#some of the characters are hard to pick elements for...

[rubylarkspur22]

Hear me out Demon Slayer characters in Legend Of Spyro setting

... I like the way you think, anon!

Now, I'm gonna hold off on drawing, but I will spit out some story ideas! Mostly nonsensical rambling about some bits and pieces.

So, we have some obvious parallels. Tanjirou fits very well into the role of Spyro, as the hero of our story, and Muzan would fit quite well in the role of main antagonist and Malefor. And it only makes sense for the Hashira to be the Guardians. But what else can I come up with for this AU??

Muzan was originally only capable of wielding one element, but was very weak and sick when he was young. He gained access to more power through artificial means, which ended up leading to him developing use of Dark Elements in his thirst for power.

Yoriichi and the Kamado family are the only dragons capable of wielding more than one element, a trait passed down to the eldest son. The Kamado family was actually actively hiding in the mountains to prevent drawing the attention of Muzan and his army(who are all dragons who have been corrupted by Dark Aether, some more willingly than others).

Nezuko was initially just a fire dragon. But Muzan attacks the Kamado family to try and find the dragon in the family that can wield multiple elements. In the midst of his attack, some of his Dark Aether latched onto Nezuko. It didn't fully corrupt her, but it did affect her, giving her access to some Dark Elements.

From there, the story is a mix of LoS and KNY. Tanjirou goes on a journey to undo Nezuko's half-corruption, master his elements(having already fully mastered Fire thanks to Tanjurou!)

Oh, hey! Both protagonists get temporarily corrupted by the antagonists in their respective franchises!(Dark Spyro and Demon King Tanjirou)

Some ideas for elements some of the characters use, some more obvious than others:

Kie would be an Earth Dragon. Tell me I'm wrong. The rest of the Kamado children are either Earth like her, or got Fire from Tanjurou.

Giyuu is a Water Dragon, as are Urokodaki, Sabito, and Makomo.

Obanai is either a Water Dragon or a Poison Dragon(because snake venom).

Shinobu is also one of those. And she's also tiny, so she will go for your kneecaps and ankles.

The Rengoku family are all Fire Dragons, obviously.

Zenitsu, Kaigaku, and Kuwajima are Electricity Dragons, Kuwajima being a former Guardian and the boys being slotted to be his successors. Zenitsu only knows one attack(I'm thinking it's the Electricity Primary from The Eternal Night; the ball of electricity you can launch and then proceed to set off), but he's damn good at using it. Kaigaku, of course, went the corruption route. Dick.

Gyomei is Earth.

Sanemi is Wind. And Genya is either an Earth Dragon, or he has no element. A rare case, but I assume to not be impossible.

Nezuko's extra elements are Earth(from Kie), and I'm thinking Fear.

I'm not sure what Michikatsu's natural element would be, but Kokushibo also has Fear and Shadow at his disposal after being corrupted. As well as a little Dark Aether, to compete with Yoriichi in the great one-sided dick-measuring contest.

Douma is an Ice Dragon.

Inosuke is either an Earth Dragon or a Wind Dragon. I have no clue which I prefer. Either way, feral tactical assault dragon. He's the one raised by another creature entirely.

Akaza is originally Earth. Not sure what Dark Element he wields.

Hantengu uses Wind(natural element), as well as Electricity, Fear, and Earth

Gyokko uses Water and Poison

Gyutaro is a Poison Dragon, and possibly was one from birth. Ume's element(s) are undecided.

All others, I do not know for sure, but would love to hear some ideas!

[elodieunderglass]

And one amang, an Iyrysch man,

Uppone his hoby swyftly ran…

WAIT HANG ON - slamming the brakes on drawing this stupid picture - do you nerds even KNOW the etymology of the word “hobby”? The thing you do for pleasure? The thing you have too many of? The thing you spend too much money on and share with your friends? The thing tumblr probably is to you? Those hobbies?

It comes from a now-kind-of-extinct breed of Irish pony-horse. It was called the Irish Hobby. Supposedly the hobby got its name from the Gaelic word obann, or swift. They definitely were. They’d obann your pants clean off.

Fast tough little bastards, built for rough terrain and renowned for their speed and stamina, hobby horses belonged to the Celts, and their highly annoying style of mounted warfare. but their conquerors liked hobby horses a lot, kept them, used them for themselves, and found them useful enough, despite the fact that they also had famously useful things like mounted knights or horse archers. A lightweight Irish warrior, mounted on a hobby horse, was called a hobelar.

Reportedly and in depictions, hobelars rode without stirrups. Or saddles. Or bridles. Or - well - this is all sounding very improbable, because the hobelars COULDNT have just been charging around basically bare-assed on naked ponies, screaming, and somehow in the process undoing the composure of actual mounted armoured knights. Knights who, I remind you, had stirrups. Stirrups are useful! It’s quite likely the hobelars had some gear. And clothes. and weapons. And the ponies probably had some tack - I am picturing a bellyband that you could at least hang a saddlebag on, and a neck rope for catching the bloody thing, even if not a saddle. But the overall impression, somehow created by people on darling little ponies, was apparently quite striking and fearful.

I mean. God Forbid People Have Hobbies.

Anyway after a while, whatever people became the British had eventually conquered all of the rough terrain that hobbies were best at, and horse archers just got sexier, and mounted knights became aristos, and all the bog and forest people had been subdued, so it was time to sunset the hobelars. but WAIT! Hobby horses are still tremendously fun and appealing! They’re so fast! and you can ride them without a saddle! Sure, they’re not up to the weight of a mounted knight, or indeed a lot of guys… but surely we can still find a use for a hobby or two? In the back garden? Somewhere?

At which point an English king decided to keep hobby horses just for fun. No military application. No further development of the technology. Not for fun. Just as expensive, pleasurable, pets. Just for the joy of the thing.

And that is how hobby (activity done purely for pleasure) comes from hobby horse (small horse) possibly from obann (swift.) they’re very interesting and you should look all this up for yourself! because it sure sounds like Elodie doing a bit, doesn’t it?

Today, Irish Hobbies are functionally nonexistent. References for drawing include the Kerry Bog Pony, the Connemara, and (I personally think) Dartmoors and Exmoors. They’re said to have lent their speed to the Irish Hunter/Sport Horse and from there to the Thoroughbred, but every damn horse in the world claims relation to the Thoroughbred, and they can’t be THAT thoroughly bred.

At any rate - you can never have enough hobbies. Just be glad that yours aren’t expensive beasts with minds of their own, eating their heads off in the pasture! …Unless they are. In which case, you’re part of a proud tradition.

[an-inky-fingered-lass]

i still have SO many feelings about the may & robin storyline, and just robin in general, honestly. like, i will seriously try and write a coherent thing about this at some point, but just. awestruck feels of the Soft Variety. it’s just- things brought full circle in the most gorgeous way. it’s a such a kind story, and it’s one of the most special to me in anything ever, i think. may has lost all hope so many times in so many ways. but she’s spent building so much time building herself back from so many personal ends, and when everything ends she becomes the person who keeps hope. she from not wanting hope she becomes the person that carries that hope for everyone.

robin is so young and has lived through so little and at once so much. more than anyone can fathom. she sees death and destruction behind her eyes all the time but that also makes the only person who sees the possibility of hope, the possibility of something that seems inevitable going differently. a chance for a better world, a better future. and it’s may who takes her in, takes care of her - in so many ways robin represents everything may never thought she could have, could be ever again: a mother. someone who could nurture, protect, love, hope. a source of comfort. unafraid.

You weren’t afraid of what I could do.

may knows what it is to have a hell inside your head. to find a way out, to find the hope, the light. it’s not the same thing, but it IS. robin knew, all her days, that she was safe. may believed in her. may was herself- everything she was, everything her life had made her, and that meant someone who made a little girl feel safe. that meant someone who never gave up hope. she lost so much and she loved even harder and because of THAT- because she believed in a little girl who saw a better world- because of that the world was saved.

AGH.

their exchange in the flashback is one of my favorite bits of dialogue.

may: you tell me your vision of us saving the world.

robin: but I’ve never seen that vision.

may: you will.

i’ve been feeling like I need a break from writing may lately, and have simultaneously been having kind of a hard time with that (in all fairness, i’ve written two frickin novels’ worth of her over the past almost two years and little else… this relates to both points). so. working on giving myself less of a hard time about, um, most things really, but especially ebbing and flowing inspiration. but i really really want to write something for them someday. this story is so, so special to me.

[writers-potion]

Could you give any advice for "descriptive" writing of any scene or action scenes or mapping out the scenery (Mountains, forests, streets etc) - i believe this is a struggle for Non-English speaking writers due to lack of vast vocabulary.

Common Scenery Description Tips

Vocabulary is clearly an important part of description, but it doesn’t have to be a limit. The most important thing about description in fiction is picking the right details to mention:

How does the details add to the mood of the story? A mountain ridge will be dark, gray and foggy if the overall mood is meant to be mysterious/brooding. In contrast, a mountain can be brilliantly snow-capped, lush green and “smiling down” upon the character if they’re out for a light stroll.

How are the contrasts/complementary aspects being brought out?

Are you using the five senses? You can even combine the senses, ie. blue ringing of the church bells

(If you have the POV character) what 

Some other tips for setting description:

Use similes and metaphors. Creative figures of speech always get my attention as a reader. 

Mention story-specific elements. For example, “The sky was the shade of Zoes’ eyes” or “the mountains looked like a group of trolls sleeping on one another” 

Be concise. Today’s readers don’t want to read paragraphs and paragraphs about one landscape. Outline the larger elements in the scene, their location and general mood. Add some details, then move on. 

If the same location appears multiple times, differentiate the description little by little as you write, instead of trying to lay out one scene in too much detail at once. 

That said, here are some helpful words/phrases:

Forests/Mountains

Color: bone-white, phantom-white, hazy gray

Sound: rumbling, booming grumbling, bellowing clapping, trundling, growling, thundering

Shape: crinkled, crumpled, knotted, grizzled, rumpled, wrinkled, craggy, jagged, gnarled, rugose  

Action: sky-punching/stabbing/piercing/spearing, heaven-touching/kissing, snow-cloaked/hooded/wreathed/festooned

Sloping sides, sharp/rounded ridges, high point/peak/summit

Majestic, gargantuan humbling, vast, massive, titanic, towering, monumental, mighty, vast, humbling

Mountains having faces, etc. 

Seas

Color: blue-green, crystal-clear crystalline, emerald, frothy, hazy, glistening, pristine, turquoise

Size: boundless, abyssal, fathomless, unconquerable, vast, wondrous

Sound: billowing, blustering, bombastic

Action: boisterous, agitated, angry, biting, breaking, brazen. Churning, bubbling, changing, brooding, calm, convulsing, enticing erratic, fierce, tempestuous, turbulent, undulating

Alluring, blissful, betwitching, breezy, captivating, chaotic, chilly, elemental, disorienting

Deserts

Sight: A landscape of sand, flat, harsh sunlight, cacti, tumbleweeds, dust devils, cracked land, crumbing rock, sandstone, canyons, wind-worn rock formations, tracks, dead grasses, vibrant desert blooms (after rainfall), flash flooding, dry creek

Sounds: Wind (whistling, howling, piping, tearing, weaving, winding, gusting), birds cawing, flapping, squawking, the fluttering shift of feasting birds, screeching eagles, the sound of one’s own steps, heavy silence, baying wild dogs

Smell: Arid air, dust, one’s own sweat and body odor, dry baked earth, carrion

Touch: Torrid heat, sweat, cutting wind, cracked lips, freezing cold (night) hard packed ground, rocks, gritty sand, shivering, swiping away dirt and sweat, pain from split lips and dehydration, numbness in legs, heat/pain from sun stroke, clothes…

Taste: Grit, dust, dry mouth & tongue, warm flat canteen water, copper taste in mouth, bitter taste of insects for eating, stringy wild game (hares, rats) the tough saltiness of hardtack, biscuits or jerky, an insatiable thirst or hunger

Streets

Dusty, fume-filled, foul, sumptuous, broad, bucolic, decayed, mournful, seemingly endless, empty, unpaved, lifeless, dreadfully genteel, muddy, nondescript, residential/retail

Bleach, flimsy, silent, narrow, crooked, furrowed, smoggy, commonplace, tumbledown, treeless, shady

The blacktop streets absorb the spring sunshine as if intent upon sending heaven's warmth back through my soles.

The streets absorbed the emotions in the air, the city as the steady and reassuring mother.

The streets were a marriage of sounds, from bicycle wheels to chattering.

In the refreshing light of early daytime, the streets had the hues of artistic dreamtime, soft yet bold pastels.

Cobbled streets flowed as happy rivers in sunlight.

Parties

Some extra tips for locations like parties, where lots of action is going around practically everywhere:

Focus on the important characters - where they are, who they’re with. 

Provide some overall description of the structure of the party scene (a pool, a two-storey house with yard?), then move on to details. 

Don’t try to describe everything. 

whirlwind of laughter and music, a symphony of joyous chaos.

It was a gathering that shimmered with the glow of twinkling lights and echoed with the rhythm of dancing feet.

The air was alive with excitement, buzzing with conversations and the clink of glasses.

Every corner held a story waiting to unfold, a moment waiting to be captured in memory.

It was a tapestry of colors, a mosaic of faces, each adding their own brushstroke to the vibrant canvas of the night.

Laughter cascaded like a waterfall, infectious and unstoppable, filling the room with warmth.

The night was a carnival of senses, with aromas of delicious food mingling with the melodies that filled the air.

Time seemed to slip away in the whirl of the party, moments blending into each other like colors on a palette.

The energy of the crowd was electric, pulsing through the room like a heartbeat, binding everyone in a shared moment of celebration.

It was a celebration of life, where worries faded into the background, and the present moment was all that mattered.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

I was wondering if you can do Yandere dick and Tim with a Childe reader who seems to favor Tim over Dick.

Just imagine Tim finding this little Kid following him like a little duckling and thinking that he is soooo cool!

No matter how much Dick makes the kid like him Tim is always his favorite!!

(It will be funny if Batsis who doesn't like Dick at all is also around. He will be losing his mind!!)

A/N:Oh my gosh yes! Lowkey Batsis and Tim being co-sibling-parents lolll. Honestly Tim and Batsis duo is so iconic. I need to do more. I love them. look at him...he's such a good brother.

Here's the thing, Dick is the honorary dad of the family. Like he's changed diapers, taught how to tie shoes, walked his siblings to school and gone to graduations... All the siblings go to him with their problems before Bruce.

Now new baby alert,,,,Dick is in full papa mode and is ready to do the same with batchild and is so hurt when the kid screams in his arms. Like anytime he's near or picks the child up like this kid is in distress. O my gosh I feel so bad. Poor Dick.

Dick is seriously trying so hard to make batchild love him but nothing he does works. Dick could have cocomelon on full blast and wearing a Barney costume and this kid will be trying to get away.

Eventually like Jason has to be like..."dude, please just let someone else take care of em'. They need more time to adjust to you."

It's because of his blue eyes isn't it? Dick unintentionally has the Miley Cyrus blue eyed stare and the kid cannot take it. lol

All jokes aside it's really not that bad but it's clear that Dick isn't their favorite. There's definitely cute moments where Dick is sitting down with batchild in his arms and they are munching on some snacks. Or Dick is singing to them or doing a fun trick with them in the air. But ultimately the kid seems to gravitate to other siblings instead.

Dick doesn't really know how to function though. I mean we've seen just how insane he is with batsis. Only problem is he cannot be as forceful with the child in fear of scaring them.

I think the batchild and Tim situation won't get to him until he sees batsis, Tim and batchild all together.

The whole Tim obsession is out of the blue. Like Tim is almost always in his room or in a dark corner somewhere doing research. He decides to come out one evening as he had a bit of time after solving some cases...

I like to think Tim is a super geek who probably wears cartoon pajama pants or silly slippers and it caught the kid's attention so he's waddling towards him.

Tim is kind of like...what is happening? What do I do with this young human? He's kind of awkward with the kid at first but the kid is just loving himmm. Tim will try to explain the character that it is on his clothes to the kid, and they will try cutely mimicking him and Tim's heart just melts.

"Oh uhh...this is Link from..well Zelda.."

"lwink...frwum zweldwa..?'

The kid is dead set on sitting with him during dinner too. Like they climb into his lap and starting eating off of his plate. It's perfectly okay because Tim doesn't eat much at all so he didn't mind the kid messing the plate up.

He stays out in the living room a little longer than usual that night to play with the kid a little, it's super sweet.

I like to think Tim and batsis are rather close siblings so there are times where Tim will be coupe up in this room and batsis will come in with batchild and pull him away from his work. Batchild loves playing pretend with the two, specifically knights and dragons and hospital. It's nice seeing Tim a bit out of his element and having fun.

Sometimes batkid will just fall asleep in Tim's arms as he's working late. Speaking of, Tim takes to the kids like they're his little apprentice. Oftentimes you'll find them together with tons of case files out and the kid is grabbing items or pinning things on the board for Tim. Seriously that child's reading level went from first grade to 10th in the span of a few months lmaooo

But there's often times where batsis and Tim are with them. Quickly they become the kid's favorite siblings and they want them to do everything. Like when the kid is hurt, they'll cry for either. If the kid need to get ready for school, they want either to help. If it's movie night, the kid is squished in-between the two. You guys basically broke the honorary parents and it's so adorbs.

But this is where I said Dick is not having it. I feel like Dick was never threatened by Tim until now. Like sure Dick knew that Batsis and Tim were kind of close in a way and he was okay with batkid taking a liking to him...but all three of you being your own little squad is killing him.

He hates being excluded and not being needed so he's like ripping his hair out. He'll try inviting himself into the group and like the kid is just ignoring him...

Dick will try to open a juice box for the kid and now the kid doesn't even want it anymore like....bruh I wants Timmy to open it for me :(

Honestly I am not even sure really how Dick copes...Like I just feel like he doesn't explode because like I said he doesn't wanna scare the kiddo but idkkkk

[classypauli]

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑯𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

MASTERLIST

tara carpenter x fem!reader

summary: Tara thought out of all people she hates you the most, until she met her… and why the fuck does she follow every where you go?!

tags: enemies to lovers, flirting, drunk at party, y/n is an idiot, new girl, tara is jealous

word count: 2.2k

Late again but enjoy! Sorry for mistakes i´ll correct them later.

„Help me!“ you yelled into your mic as you gripped the console tightly.

„What? I can´t even see you!“

„You idiot I´m on the fucking ground right behind you!“ 

That was the routine for these past days, you and Ethan were playing, and something some of your or his friends joined to play with you. You were sure you lost a lot of nerves but it was also something you couldn´t say no to.

„Oh sorry!“ you heard Ethan as you watched as his character turned around and crunching beside you to pick you up. Not even a second after you saw another player appear right behind him.

„Ethan!“

„What?“

„Turn around! Right behind you!“

„What?“

Just then the player started to shoot him from behind making him yell and run away from you leaving you right where you were. You tried to crawl as fast as you could behind something to cover you but it was for no use. Then you saw Ethan´s character fall on the ground in the same position as you were now making the enemy kill you both. You slammed your hand on the table almost breaking it.

„You idiot! Why did you leave me there? I was almost up!“

„He was shooting me from behind! What was I supposed to do?!“

„Argh! We lost our streak because of you!“

„Me?! You were the one that was on the ground! I was trying to help!“

It was like this almost every game. Just the both of you screaming at each other throwing the blame on one another. But at the end of the day, you say happy goodbye like nothing happened. The loud banging on the wall from the other side was like a message for you to stop and go to sleep.

-

You were sitting in the back of the class with sweaty palms and your knees up and down. The heart inside your chest kept racing and you were sure your beat rate was at its maximum.

„Could you stop already? You are making this much worse than it is!“ Tara hissed at you from beside you with clenched teeth. You were so nervous. It was the day of your presentation when everyone from the class went in front of the board and presented their topic.

You always hated this kind of stuff and you aren´t ashamed of telling the truth. You may seem confident or nonchalant most of the time but this was something that was hard to change.

„Sorry.“ You whispered as you put your hand on your knee to stop the bouncing. Tara´s eyes softened a little as she looked at your side profile. You were trying too hard to stay calm using every technique that came to your mind like deep breathing or trying to remember something funny or the fact that this was something everyone was going through and you are not alone.

Not long after you got it done and positive to say your professor was also happy about your work giving you marks belonging to the work done.

„I´m so glad we´ve after it.“ Chad breathed out air from his lungs. You were sitting in a cafeteria with your friends.

„Exactly! I was so nervous about it and that´s not even in my element!“ Mindy said as she picked up the croissant from her plate to her mouth.

„I´m sure you weren´t nervous as Y/N.“ Tara said with a smirk on her lips. You turned your face to her being a little offended by her words.

„I was not that nervous!“ you yelled at her as if you were trying to convince them. Or maybe yourself.

„You were like I thought you would pee yourself in any second.“ She added turning away from you to eat her food. You stomped on her foot hard making her yell in pain.

„Y/N!“ Mindy scolded you.

„You fucker!“ the young Carpenter turned to you with a mad expression ready to kill you. Oh, how much that calmed you down. You smiled at her which quickly fell into a pain expression as she kicked you right below your knee with all her strength.

You crunched into the table laying your forehead on it in pain. „You little rat I hate you so fucking much.“ You whispered with your eyes almost closed and your knees in both of your hands.

Just when you wanted to say something more you heard someone saying your name. With a confused expression, you turned to the side seeing the girl from the shop.

She was walking with a group of friends which kept walking as she stopped to talk to you.

„Hey, how are you?“ she asked with a gentle voice looking into your eyes. Not long after you met at the shop you got the message that someone wanted to follow you on your Instagram. You didn´t want to know how she found you, not like it was important either. You just didn´t expect that.

„Oh hi.“ You looked up at her from your spot. You could tell your friend were looking at the both of you with different expressions on their faces. Everyone was surprised at the interaction, only Ethan looked like he wasn´t. „I´m good, how are you?“

Chad cracked a little biting his lower lip at you. You´ve never talked to them with that sweet voice you were using now.

„I´m great! Sorry I didn´t wanna bother you I just wanted to say hi.“ She quickly explained herself feeling guilty for ruining the fun you had with your friends.

„Oh no, don´t worry, really. It´s all right.“ You smiled at her noticing that her friends stopped a couple of feet away from you looking at her with smiles and giggles. „Your friends are waiting for you. Not like I want you to go away! No! I mean you can stay as long as you want you know-“

She giggled at you as you were trying to explain yourself. „It´s fine Y/N like I said, I just wanted to stop by. I hope you have a good day.“ She then turned around and speed-walked to her friends.

Your eyes were still on her looking at her fading body into distance. Just then you were cut by a loud laughing. You rolled your eyes knowing exactly who it was.

Almost all of your friends were holding their stomachs from the laugh. Chad pressed his hands together and brought them up into his chest looking up in a dreamy way. „Oh, you can stay as long as you want! Please don´t go away!“ he said in a high high-pitched voice trying to make fun of you.

Your jaw tensed at him as you were growing more angry with each second. „I don´t  sound like that!“

„But you did!“ they laughed. „I´ve never heard that voice Y/N oh my you must like this girl!“

The vein on your forehead started to form as you stared at your friends in anger. „I don't like her!“

Ethan was quietly sitting beside you looking at you. „I like her for you.“ He said softly. That made everyone silent looking at him.

„And since when do you know her?“ Mindy asked him.

„Oh I and Y/N already talked about her, right buddy?“ he said not meaning to be a tease. Chad only laughed harder making you even more mad. Ethan quickly looked at him and at you again. „Sorry Y/N! I didn´t want to make you mad.“

„It´s fine Ethan.“

„Oh but I´m a little offended how come Ethan knows already about her but we do not?“

You just breathed out and shook your head at them not having any more energy. You just picked up your food slowly taking a bite.

Tara was quiet like she was trying to process what just happened. What the fuck did that girl see in you? It was more than obvious that she liked you or at least that she was interested. You were annoying and stupid, you were always playing games and never studying. Why would she even stumble across you?

She looked at your calm expression and at the little red on your cheeks. That only made her more angry.

-

It was Friday and you were currently at someone´s birthday party. You got yourself a little more drunk than usual but that doesn´t mean you don´t know where the drinking barrier is. You danced and drank and laughed you were happy enjoying yourself with your friends.

You and Chad were competing who would drink more shots which was stopped by Mindy. You danced with Ethan who was a lot more loose than he normally is. You knew tomorrow you would probably hate yourself and Chad too but that was the problem of future Y/N.

You went into the kitchen trying to find something more to drink. Luckily for you, no one was in there at that time. You were opening cabinet after cabinet when you came by some luxurious-looking alcohol and champagne.

You wanted to grab one which was hidden behind only for you to stumble yourself from the chair making you fall on the ground.

There was a loud sound of the glass breaking and your body falling onto the ground. „Ouch.“ you let out softly.

„What the hell are you doing?“ Tara ran to your drunk ass laying on the ground trying to get up.

„Uhm I fell.“

„I can see you imbecile I asked what the fuck were you doing? Come on get up.“ She tried to get you up by your hands but saw that you were cut on your right arm. You were bleeding and you didn´t even notice that. Just when you saw Tara´s face you saw in what state was your arm.

„Oh my God Y/N! You´ve got glass in your hand I can see that!“

„Oh yeah? I can feel that!“

 It was a pretty deep cut but nothing serious. Tara quickly ran to the sink and grabbed some tissues with scissors and alcohol.

„What the hell are you doing?“ you were crawling away from her fearing what that girl had in mind.

„I wanna help you stop running away!“ she was trying to get to you. Tara grabbed you by your good arm. „Stop moving you idiot!“

„I don´t wanna die!“ you cried as you were moving around like some insect. If someone walked into the room and saw the scene they would probably think that she is trying to kill you.

„Stop yelling!“ she put the bottle of alcohol beside you after getting it on the tissue softly cleaning your wound. You hissed at the feeling but didn´t move. Tara was taking the glass away crunching on the floor beside you.

She looked up at your face only for her to see that you were now drinking the alcohol she bought to clean your wound.

„Y/N! What the fuck!“ Tara yelled grabbing the bottle and pulling it away from your mouth. „Are you out of your fucking mind?“

You giggled gently at her drunk. She was looking at you as if you were serious. She couldn´t help but crack a little at your behavior. You were an idiot.

After your giggles, you were just quietly sitting there looking at the girl in front of you.

„Your right dimple is deeper than the left one.“

Tara´s breathing stopped for a moment. Suddenly her vision was worse and her heart fell into her stomach.

„What did you say?“ she asked gently with her soft big eyes looking at yours.

„Everytime you smile your right dimple is more visible.“

Tara´s eyes widen at your words looking down at you. She didn´t know how much time had passed since you were sitting there but to young Carpenter, it was like a second. A second before someone stepped into the kitchen breaking off the tension that was created in the room.

„Oh my God Y/N! What happened?“

It was the girl again. She ran in your direction trying to find out what happened. Tara´s nerves were on top all of a sudden.

„I´m fine don´t worry.“ You somehow said with your eyes barely open. You slowly stood up with her help making her hold tight onto your arm.

„I´m taking you to mine you can´t go home all by yourself like this!“

Tara looked at the girl with a sparky smile. „Don´t worry about that Y/N and I live beside each other I’ll take  care of that.“

The girl looked at Tara and her face dropped. It was clear that she wasn´t a fan of her but that didn´t matter to her.

„Okay, I see.“ She looked up at you talking your cheeks in her hands making you look at her. „Take care, I´ll text you tomorrow.“ She then got on her tippy toes and kissed your cheek. Tara´s hands formed into fists and her jaw tensed. After that, she walked away leaving you both alone, not before looking at both of you one last time. Tara brushed the skin on your face right where that girl kissed you and took your hand into her and started to walk away from the party.

Yeah, like hell she will text you.

[tossawary]

There's something... tremendously funny and bewildering to me about AU choices in fanfiction that are distractingly irrelevant to the story. I'm going to pick on omegaverse here for my example, because my feelings on it as a setting are complicated and nuanced and also often petty as hell. But it can apply to any other AU type.

I view omegaverse as, essentially, a speculative science-fiction concept. It asks questions like "What if there were these 3+ accepted genders?" and "What if people had THIS weird feature of biology?" and then it runs with that, creating and exploring new worlds and, in doing so, making statements on our own world's relationships to sex and gender and sexuality and bodily autonomy and so on. There are many, many different ways to do omegaverse, some of which admittedly squick me out personally, some of which I just don't like.

Sometimes, the world building is fascinatingly intricate and thoughtful. Sometimes, the world building has the painted-cardboard quality of a "Star Trek" episode: it's just there to make a heavy-handed statement about sex and gender discrimination and it'll fall apart if you poke it too hard. With fanfiction, it also generally becomes a tool with which to examine a specific character's relationship to sex, gender, sexuality, and so on.

Sometimes, the main purpose of omegaverse as an element in a story is sexual titillation. It's a vessel for kinky stuff, like power dynamics and fantasy sex characteristics, uninterested in the broader world implications, and that's fine! Great! "Porn without plot" is still a purpose! It's very relevant to the story!

One of the many ways omegaverse settings can squick me out is when... hmm... it feels anti-feminist and anti-queer, like the author is uncritically creating "Bioessentialist Cisheteronormative Amatonormative Anti-Abortion Patriarchy Nightmare Scenario 2!" worlds, in which they've given no thought to what it would mean to be intersex or transgender or aromantic or asexual or sex-repulsed or polyamorous or disabled or childfree or infertile/sterile or adopted or mentally ill or a victim of abuse or a victim of assault, and so on. (Or the author outright states that all cultures around the world view sex and gender the exact same reductive way in this world, which is pretty racist and also very boring.) Yikes.

Like, uh, feels weird sometimes when you take a homosexual couple of characters and then turn them into an alpha/omega relationship, which is not only socially accepted but the equivalent of straight in this particular world, so that they can have bio-babies together. Feels bad when the author starts outright insisting that omega/omega and alpha/alpha couples are biologically impossible in this world and always doomed to failure. Feels absurd when the author is so into these exaggerated fantasy dominant/submissive concepts, such that there could apparently NEVER be a dominant omega and submissive alpha couple, that they accidentally imply that this world doesn't even have the cowboy/cowgirl sex positions. What the hell.

Like, you're using the weird sex world concept and insisting that people are only having this world's equivalent of vanilla, straight, reproductive sex? And also actively shitting on other stuff? Like the basic concept of sex toys??? Fuck off!

But, you know, even the bioessentialist reinforcement of gender roles, even uncritical enthusiasm for benevolent sexism, is still a purpose for a narrative element? I hate it, but the omegaverse is still actively doing something in this story even if I think it's doing something bad.

It gets REALLY confusing to me when omegaverse is included but irrelevant. Character 1 and Character 2 are in a Modern Coffee Shop AU, having a very basic romance, and they just also happen to be an alpha and omega. No, there are no heats or ruts or weird sex. No, there's not even any weird scenting things going on. No, there's not really any commentary on gender roles or discrimination. The story is just doing a full-world gender-bend with fantasy genders for... no clear reason?

Maybe it's to assure us that the characters won't face any societal homophobia and will be able to get married and have bio-babies down the line without issue? (Again, yikes.) But even that's unclear.

Like, damn, might as well make up a new set of fantasy genders based on star signs and apply that to your AU just because. Might as well make up new irrelevant genders based on the four seasons. If you're going to go "Imagine an AU where the characters are Red Gender and Blue Gender!!!" then I kind of expect you to have an answer if I ask, "Why, though? What's the appeal? Is it relevant to your story? Is the world changed in any meaningful way?"

I am not approaching anyone's self-indulgent fanfiction in this way, to be clear. If I don't like it, I just leave.

The answer to "Why is this story element here?" can be: "I just like it." But I do think it's funny and weird to encounter AU elements that, in my opinion, are actively dragging a story down.

Omegaverse generally doesn't even have a great aesthetic going for it. "Imagine this character as a modern punk!" or "Imagine this character as an enjoyer of gothic lolita fashion!" at least gives me some mental visuals and character self-image study thoughts to chew on, even if the author isn't explicitly using those fashion choices as a tool to examine a character's relationship with gender and to a community and to broader society.

With irrelevant omegaverse, what the author has written might be some otherwise interesting character thoughts or a meet-cute, but I can't focus on that because I'm too distracted wondering why the fuck the speculative kink genders are here.

[meglosthegreat]

So... everyone pretty much hated Veilguard's "secret ending", right? Beyond speculation about the Executors themselves, I haven't exactly seen anyone excited about its presence, and for that matter, haven't seen many people talking about it at all.

The closest way I can describe my initial reaction to it was an immediate, visceral disgust. I think I remember uttering at my screen something along the lines of "Fuck off! What the fuck?! Are you fucking kidding me???" and ever since then I've wanted to put into words exactly why it made me feel that way.

For the 88% of you (according to Steam achievement statistics) who didn't see this ending due to not picking up three very specific codex entries by complete chance, you can watch it here. In short, the clip depicts a mysterious voice who sounds suspiciously like Matt Mercer talking about how a group of shadowy figures has "balanced, guided, and whispered" over scenes of villains from the previous DA games, implying that these shadowy figures have been at least partially responsible for all of the bad things happening in Thedas, towards some unknown nefarious purpose.

Now obviously, this sucks. This is hamfisted, unimaginative writing that simultaneously retcons and re-contextualizes elements from DA's past that absolutely no one thought needed further explanation, as well as being exactly the kind of irritating sequel-bait tactics that people have largely grown tired of these days. But why does it suck so much? Why did I feel such palpable distaste for this scene?

For starters, it simply reeks of entitlement, and a lack of respect towards Bioware's own past games. Remember those villains you loved and thought were compelling? Well, their own personal, very complex and thought-out motivations were really just the Executors whispering in their ears the whole time! Loghain making a difficult and calculated decision at great personal cost for a greater good he truly believed in? Executors. Bartrand succumbing to his own greed to the point that he betrays his only family and devolves into a tragic husk of himself? Executors. Corypheus and the Magisters breaching the Golden fucking City??? Executors.

Ignore the infuriating lore ramifications for a second and consider: what do all of these things have in common? They're all instances of complex character motivation; of people in this world doing things for their own reasons that ended up having massive ramifications. In short, they're not events that can be explained easily in terms of black and white morality. And from what we've seen in Veilguard, the current dev team has a serious inability to work with any story elements that do not have absolute moral clarity: the Venatori and the Antaam are Evil. The Shadow Dragons and the Crows are Good. Any nuance; any potential questioning of this duality is quickly explained away or snuffed out.

And that's exactly what they're trying to do, retroactively, with the rest of the series. Having a hard time deciding whether Loghain was right or wrong? Well, worry not, the Executors are Evil and if they were guiding him the whole time, then what he did must have been Evil too! Grappling with how the plot of DA2 was about the inevitable tragedy of a series of oppressive systems reaching their natural breaking point? Well, wrestle no further, for if the Executors were involved then Meredith and Bartrand must've been Evil, no question! What the Magisters did was definitely Not Great, and what do you know, there were consequences for it that they and the whole world very much did pay for. But if the Executors were behind it all, then it was someone else's fault, some Evil power reaching in and making them do what they did, rather than their actions being the result of a horrific series of power abuses done by actual people.

Which leads me to where my initial disgust comes in. Because in a world which has always had core themes of power and its many abuses, actions that have consequences, and the idea that there are no true higher beings; every horrible thing that has ever been done was done by people, the simple act of putting shadowy figures behind key moments in history completely debases and neuters all of those themes. The whole point of Dragon Age as a series up until this point has been to illustrate the complex relationships people and societies have with power, choice, and morality. To remove that link - to place an external force between those characters and their choices - is to rob the series of any meaning whatsoever.

There is a staggering difference between the messaging of a game that tells you ordinary people are to blame for society's wrongs and a game that tells you a secret shadowy faction of evil forces are to blame for them. The former invites thought about one's own society; it has the potential to be uncomfortable and difficult to reconcile with. The latter assures its audience of the fantasy it is couched in. It gives the audience a boogeyman to be angry at, and in so doing deflects any potential for introspection. And that, I think, is the real point of the scene in question.

In a time where our media has become inundated with bland, unchallenging liberal politics, the idea of "cozy" stories have become a growing trend. These types of stories often sport a broad rejection of complicated themes, painful emotions, and nuance, preferring instead to provide a "safe" place to escape to. And with that "safe" space comes a directive not to engage in critical thinking about a work, and not to draw any message from that work and apply it to the real world. Yet this is exactly where Bioware seems to be heading nowadays.

Veilguard has already been faced with heavy criticism about playing things overly safe; removing anything that might be potentially uncomfortable for the player. And the end credits scene is no different. Don't think about things too hard, it whispers to you seductively, in Matt Mercer's soothingly Evil voice. See? The Bad Guys were behind everything, all along.

[sickgraymeat]

Do you ever think about how when BMO plays pretend, they favor nomadic/loner roles like a cowboy, a hard-boiled detective, a traveling salesperson, etc., which is pretty in line with their directive from Mo. But when they really are on their own (eg in BMO Lost) they immediately, desperately establish a family from their surroundings.

And how one of those universal struggles of people, especially in the context of growing up (including but not limited to childhood) is dependence vs. independence. Wanting a hand to hold and wanting to be able to drop it at will. And how some people need to hold that hand less often than others, and how some people really don’t want to even when they really need to.

Finn and Jake get frustrated with each other and try to solve a dungeon separately, only to be met at every turn with a challenge that they can’t face without the other. Marceline travels for a thousand years and settles down here and there and picks back up because the people around her aren’t constant so she doesn’t want to be either. PB and IK each create an entire kingdom because they’re lonely, and neither of them feel whole because, just like the quarters of Ooo in Elements, living in those kingdoms is too much like living inside their own heads.

Every episode of Distant Lands is about characters who both resent and long for the versions of themselves they used to be— the versions who needed other people, the versions who could still insist they didn’t — and have to reconcile with the fact that they never really stopped being those people, but also that they can never really be those people again.

Every major character in the series is building connections and love and safety using whatever tools they have, and distancing themselves with equal effort. So they’re all kind of just alternating between playing cowboy and playing house, figuring out how to balance both and where they fit in between.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Seeing Stars 2

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Summary: You struggle to be star struck by the world's most famous super soldiers. (grumpy!short!reader)

Note: Guess this is happening.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Your image in print makes you cringe again. If you keep doing that, you're going to form a few new wrinkles. It's hard to describe the expression on your face; somewhere between a gape and a grimace. Bonita doesn't seem to notice as she waves the signed photo in glee. 

"Oh my god! Mo is going to hella jealous," she chimes. 

You grumble. Another pair of thunder gods barge by and you stop short to keep from getting bonked by a foam hammer.  

"They couldn't crop me out?" You wonder. 

"Heyyyyy, no way. Then it'd only be me and cap," she whines. "You look fine." 

She isn't looking at you. She's too obsessed with herself, perched perfectly in Steve Rogers' arms. You glower at your likeness and roll your eyes.  

You shrug as if trying to wriggle free of the touch no longer there. It's there in the picture, that unwelcome embrace. It just happened so fast. You don't touch. You don't hug. Bonita gets on for her birthday and one for Christmas and outside of that, you have your bubble. 

"My feet are killing me," you drone. 

"You're not tapping our already, are you?" She chirps. 

"No, but I could use a coffee. Maybe sit for a few." 

"I don't want to miss the costume competition," she hums. "How about you come find me?" 

"That works." 

You'll agree to anything if it gets you a break from all this. You feel your battery flickering. You're at 12% socially and recharging will take days, if not weeks. 

"I'll text if I get lost," you assure her. 

You part and go in search of one of the vending machines you passed a few minutes ago. You're not outwardly sardonic, or you try not to be. When people describe you as deadpan, you're often surprised they pick up on that. You say as little as you can but some people take silence negatively.  

You tap your card for the overpriced instant cappucino. The machine churns noisily and a cup drops down onto the tray. The brown espresso mix spits from the nozzle. Its aromatic even if you expect a watered down flavour. 

You take the cup and blow over it. You keep away from the hordes of fandom devout. You wind along the wall and find a quiet hallway. You lean by the emergency exit and sip your coffee. 

You close your eyes and sigh, tilting your head back as you let the coolness of the wall soothe you. You inhale as the thrum of the crowd drifts in. You don't want to go back. 

There's some scuffing at the end of the hall. Your head snaps up and you stand straight, expecting a staff member to chase you out. Worse. It's one of them. 

"Oh hey," the blond slows as he comes down the hall, stopping midway. "Um... didn't expect anyone back here." 

You stare at Steve Rogers and take another drink, "just on my way out." You glance at the door to your left; 'Employees Only'. The placard beneath denotes a restroom. Makes sense, he can't piss with the peons. 

"You got a photo," he says as you edge down the hall, keeping near the wall as you try not to get close. 

"My friend did, yeah." 

"Wait? You didn't get a copy? I can pull a few strings." 

"No thanks," you stop a foot away from him, realising he's too big to squeeze by.  

"You alright?" He asks, sounding genuinely concerned. Your forehead furrows but you stop the frown from reaching your lips, "I'm fine." 

"These things give me a headache too," he says. 

How presumptuous. Even if your head is feeling a bit dull. 

"VIP is pretty nice. There's a lounge. I could get you and your friend some passes. Hear they got real coffee too," he gestures to your cup. "I don't know for sure, I don't get to enjoy it much." 

"That's... too nice," you insist. "Excuse me, I gotta find my friend." 

You motion past him but he only moves an inch, "need help?" 

You look at him and shake your head, "I'll find her." You waggle your phone at him and turn, sidling by slowly. At last your free but at the cost of a few drops of coffee as it sloshes in your cup. It's bland. You toss it at the first bin. What a waste. 

You find Bonita near the contest banner. She looks unimpressed as she pouts and crosses her arms. You near as a yawn threatens to break free. 

"What's up?" You ask. 

"Didn't qualify for the contest," she mopes. "So, guess I'll watch." 

"Hm, there's a prize?" 

"Just a gift card but still," she says. 

"Ah, too bad." 

"Well..." she looks around, "how about the raffle? The grand prize is a your of the Avengers compound or something." 

You try not to show your disinterest. She better not invite you to that too. Ha, it's a long shot anyway. You'll humour her for a bit longer. 

"Sure, why not." 

You follow her over to the table. The staff at the table fill out the ballots for you using your ticket numbers. You give your information mindlessly, figuring there's enough people there that you'll forget you even bothered. 

"That's so awesome," Bonita trills. "Can you imagine?" 

You would hate it. You know. You like a museum tour or even a solitary stroll through the library but some good will act for good PR? You'll pass. 

"I hope you win," you say to Bonita. 

"Me too. I have so many questions!" She begins to ramble as you only half-listen. 

As you walk along the booths, your eyes wander through the milling bodies. You squint as a head of golden hair bobs at the far end of the room and pauses. Even on your toes, you can't see enough to confirm your suspicions. What does it matter anyway? Good luck to the Cap finding his way back through these fanatics. You don't envy his lot, you hardly covet your own. 

[carolmunson]

you get me closer to god | kas!eddie (dark)

entry for my fall frenzy requests. this request comes in from @edsforehead: 'something with kas!eddie in a graveyard.'

a/n: y'all, i don't know. i kind of snapped with this one. sort of canon compliant. inspired by a post that i saw that said that after vampires feed they have an insatiable desire to breed afterwards. steve also makes an appearance cause i love him.

tw: 18+ MDNI, dub-con, dub-con, dub-con (reader does get into it). use of hypnosis, coercion. blood play, blood drinking, biting. very obvious power dynamics at play here. death of minor character mentioned. p in v smut, rough and sensual. oral (f-recieving), monster-type-fucking. mild chasing trope. some religious elements if you squint??? anyway i listened to closer by nine inch nails on a loop for this if you wanna know the general vibe. let me know if there is anything i missed and need to put on here!

October 31st, 1998

Your niece had a better haul than you ever did at this age, it seemed like every house on the fancy side of Hawkins was giving out full size candy bars. No one ever gave you full size candy bars. The Harrington's had outdone themselves this year, hoards of kids picking out wrapped caramel apples and passing out spiked cider to the parents. Humming and smiling while the adults hugged their parkas to their chests, kids running up and down the stairs of the cul de sac of Hawkins Mansions. Decorated to the nines -- you were happy that most of the street would tire her and all of her friends out. "Auntie!" she calls out, hurrying over to you while her pink and purple puffer coat swishes with her. Alycia glitters against the lights of the houses in the dark of the night, the red sequins on her leotard making her easy to find. Your sister-in-law made her a headband fitted with red horns with a pointed tail sewn into the back of the red tu-tu from her Spring recital to match. A Dancing Devil she called it -- for newly six, she was a pretty creative little bug.

"Auntie look," she yells, running into your legs. The spiked cider sloshes in your cup that you hold high over her head so it doesn't spill onto her. She holds up a decorated caramel apple covered in eyeballs made out of sugar.

"Gross, Leesh," you giggle, "It's got eyeballs all over it!"

"They're fake eyeballs, Auntie," she explains like you're stupid, "They're not real eyeballs."

"Oh, thank you for telling me. I didn't know," you giggle, catching Steve watching the two of you chat. Your cheeks burn, that crush from when you were fourteen and he spent the summer working at the mall never fully fading. He's married with four kids now so you should probably get over it. "How're things?" he asks from the curb, coming over to sneak Alycia a couple of Reese's cups. "They're good," you shake your head with a shrug, "They're fine. Out here with the rugrat while her mom's at work." "How's the family, your mom?" he presses, arms crossing over his broad chest that stretch the sleeves of his tan workwear jacket.

"She's doin' okay," you smile tightly, "Always a little hard for her this time of year."

"Five years now, isn't it?"

"To the day," you say with a lilt, "Gonna go visit him after I drop her with her grandparents. My dad'll be so thrilled to steal half her stash."

Your laugh is a little hollow when he squeezes your shoulder comfortingly, he slips a candy bar into your hand, too before saying his goodbyes -- set of twins running around his ankles.

Hawkin's bravest fireman somehow off duty on a night like this turns before you take your niece's hand to leave, "Be careful out there at night. You know it's not always safe."

"You don't believe in all those rumors, do you Harrington?" you laugh.

"Don't have to believe them or not," he says seriously, pushing his wire rims up his nose, "I know they're not rumors."

"Happy Halloween, Steve," you say dully, "Goodnight." You both wave, Alycia's little hand in yours while she rattles off a million words a minute about the skeloton outside of the Sinclair house. The moon glows down over the street, dark clouds slicing it like a broken plate.

You rarely visit your brother on the day of, especially since there's always idiot teenagers running around the place. Not exactly easy to mourn when some loser in a Scream mask keeps trying to scare you.

It was quiet, your Docs crunching on mid-fall frosty grass -- some of it already half dead with the season. Commotion from the town in the distance had dulled into mostly nothing now that the kids had turned in for the night. Families turning their porch lights out, settling in for scary movies and sugar highs.

You squeeze the bouquet of baby's breath and eucalyptus a little hard in your hands when you walk through the tombstones. The low lamps along the walk way casting the grass and asphalt in a looming orangey glow -- not offering much light beyond their posts. The moon does the work, still looking shattered amongst the thin gray clouds sliding through the sky.

You hear some giggling, the rustle of leaves, the snap of twigs. Always an outlier of kids doing spells or a Ouija board out here this time of year -- old Chief Hopper coming down to make them scatter and take their weed. You walk off the path when you get a decent way in, crossing away from where the cemetary mostly turns to forest. Four 'Happy Birthday To Yous' into the brush and then a left, two head stones, then a right -- it's the third headstone on the fourth row. No light to shine down on you this time, just whatever's left in the sky. You take your big yellow scarf off from around your neck to lay over the grave, giving yourself a place to sit so your spandex covered thighs didn't have to touch the grass. Your mom would kill you if you got grass stains on the red trench she let you borrow -- a makeshift Carmen Sandiego costume if anyone asked.

You sit, laying the bouquet right at the granite edge, tracing his name before letting your hand drop. You don't say anything for a while, letting the cool wet air run over you in waves. You wonder if the wind blowing is him saying hey.

A few cemetery patrons come by, pay their respects to their loved ones and leave. Some superstitious, some religious. They fade out after a while. The loneliness is comforting, just you and your brother hanging out together like before. Despite being six years apart, it felt like you both always had some weird wonder twin telepathy. He was never really one for a lot of words.

"Didn't that guy tell you not to come around here so late?"

You jump at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, turning around to see an even more unfamiliar person. Wild curly waves messy around his face, cut in 80s shag perfection. His face chiseled, jawline pronounced with soft stubble, soaked in fake blood. It trails down his neck and stains the white of the baseball tee underneath a leather jacket; fitted over top with a battle vest that rivaled the metal heads of the 70s.

"Who're you, huh? You following me?" you ask. You swallow nervously, finding solace in seeing a few other cemetary visitors mosying around. The faint giggle of more mischeif causing teenagers in the distance.

"Sorry," he laughs, a warm laugh that meets his eyes, "Didn't mean to scare you. I um, I saw you over by the cul de sac, overheard him say somethin' to you. I was with my little cousin -- dressed like a mermaid, I don't know if you remember."

You think back to Leesh's pal of trick-or-treaters, scanning them in your head to recall a little girl with big brown eyes and a makeshit Ariel costume on under her jean jacket -- covered in patches much like his.

"Yeah," you smile, "I remember. But that didn't answer my question -- are you following me?"

"Nah," he grins, shaking his head, "I'm visiting someone -- this was just a happy accident."

"Oh," you respond quietly, "Who're you visiting if you don't mind me asking."

"My mom," he shrugs, scrunching his nose, "Halloween was her favorite holiday so I always try to come say hi."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you offer in condolences, "Did you um -- did you grow up here? I feel like I'd remember you."

"Nope," he sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans while his wallet chain jingles next to his thigh, "Grew up with my uncle."

"Oh, nice," you nod, "Well um --"

"Who're you visiting?" he interrupts, sitting on the gravestone next to your brother's; hardware tinkling prettily as he does.

"Pete," you say, hand out to gesture towards the shiny granite in front of you, "My brother."

"Nice to meet you, Pete," he turns his head, curly hair flouncing over his shoulder, "Pleasure."

You laugh, he laughs with you -- you have to laugh about it or else you'd have to deal with the alternative. You're pretty sure you're all cried out about your brother now.

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He worked construction," you shrug, "Took an overnight shift five years ago by the quarry, an' it was Halloween so he was workin' by himself -- no one to spot his safety gear. Must've fallen off the rigs or something and since it rained a lot that year the quarry was basically a lake at that point, hit his head and drowned. His body was completely banged up and waterlogged, they could only ID him from his pass in his pocket."

"Shit," he nods, "That's -- that's fuckin' awful. I'm sorry."

You shrug, "Bitch of living, I guess."

"Hm," he nods, "I wouldn't know."

"What do you mean?" you ask with a cocked head, eyes lingering on him while his linger on you. "Don't worry about it," he smirks, the kind that makes your heart flutter; cheeks getting hot at the sound of his voice. "You know something," you start, "With this whole get up -- and you're not from here so you might not know -- you look just like --"

"Eddie Munson?" he asks, with raised brows, "Yeah, my aunt's been telling me that forever. That's why I sorta dressed up like him for Halloween."

"That's dangerous around Hawkins, especially this time of year," you warn him, standing up from your spot and picking up your scarf. You shake it out to get some of the grass of the underside. You hardly notice the way his eyes trail from your shoes over your calves to your thighs.

"Some people say that he went right to hell after that earthquake since he killed that girl," you explain, shrugging the trench off some to fit the scarf on under it, "And now he's a demon that haunts Hawkins and terrorizes the town."

You both laugh, though his drops to a low and guttural hum. Nearly a growl. You lift your head to see him just a foot in front of you now, and you can really look. You can really see him. The paleness in his skin, tendrilled navy veins raising through it as he leans close to you.

At this distance it's clear that the hollowness in his eyes isn't makeup, but the sparkling brown is sunken into his skull. His brows darkened and determined while he looks at you.

At this distance, it's clear that the blood on his jaw is real.

"They're close," he says with a sly smile, "Really should've listened to Harrington, sweetheart."

You swallow hard, icy sweat in a film on your body while he takes a step forward.

"Those rumors are true."

The icy air shreds your throat as you run, heaving it in and out in gasps. Your calves scream, thighs aching while you sprint through the brush of the forest; trench and scarf long forgotton somehwere amongst the trees. You try to ignore the way twigs and branches swipe at your face, slicing you and scratching you with unforgiving whips. You let out a cry while you speed, leaping over roots and piles of leaves all while trying to listen with peak percision. Is he close? Is he getting closer? Can he see you?

You stop behind a log near a dip in the earth, rocks above it. Climbing in you heave, trying to catch your breath -- you aren't really made for this. You don't know how girls in the movies can run that long without needing a break.

With a deep inhale in, you hold, using the quiet to try and hear him but there is nothing to be heard. No rustling, no creaks in the wood or in the wind.

You catch your breath, slowly creeping out of your hiding space while the darkness hones -- trees blocking out some of the moonlight. You take a step and then another, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Your efforts are of no use though -- you stomach turns at the sound. The flap of wings, leathery wings -- big. A shaky breath in gives you the courage to turn your eyes up. On one of the taller branches above you he sits, pale and domineering, "Hi, sweetheart."

You bolt again, depserate and sobbing while the cold air is no longer a hello from your brother but mother nature's cruel bite on your wet cheeks. You can barely take in breaths without pain in your throat and chest, turning left and right and left again to lose him but from above he can predict your every move.

When you hear silence again you take another turn, a mausoleum broken down a short distance away. You crawl your way in, wet earth and cement hitting your nose while you gasp and heave for the second time. You listen for the wings for moment, a few moments -- a calm washing over your back when you're sure he's gone.

You take a step back further into the darkness to be sure you're unseen. Deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. One, twice, three times.

Another step back and you bump into a pillar making you jump, a screech wrenching from you.

Not a pillar no, not by the way a set of claw bites into your shoulder.

"Would've been a good hiding spot if it wasn't for me finding it first, right?" he quips, "Bummer." "Y-you can't d-do this," you cry, "The r-rumors are true they'll -- they'll look for me! Steve knows about you!"

"Oh, babe, that's so cute," he muses with a giggle, "Why do you think I'm still here, huh? Steve's just like me, he's bitten too."

"B-but--"

"Why do you think he believes in all those rumors, huh baby?" he asks with a lilt, "Cause he's one of 'em. Well -- not all the way, I guess. Not like me."

"He blows my cover he blows his whole operation," he grins, sharp teeth bearing themselves at you, "Why d'you think he only works night shifts?"

"I -- don't -- I don't," you sputter, "Pl-please d-don't bite me, d-don't eat me I -- I'll do whatever."

"You're too funny," he says in your ear, deep and grizzly while you're rooted to the spot under his clutch, "I already ate, sweet girl. But you'll make a fine dessert."

You don't know how you get there but it's not like home -- it is but it isn't -- dark and deadly; covered in slithering vines. You're too petrified to ask; but whatever this place was, despite the spores in the air and the rubble from the walls -- it was much nicer than the trailer he grew up in.

"Shh, shh, shh," he coos, claws deep in your shoulder while he wrenches you to a bed covered in plush linens -- satin and full. In the blur around you it could almost be a movie set; the booms of red lightening, dripping pillar candles in heaps around the room.

You whimper at first when his claws release, hot blood oozing against your sweater. The pain pulses like a dull thud, spit flooding your mouth while you move to your side to wretch but he catches you by the root of your hair. You wail in fear, smelling the decay in his breath, the sweet subtle rot of your surroundings.

"It's not polite to cause a scene in a stranger's home, right princess?" he asks with a soft lilt. He holds your gaze, warmth spreading over you when he smirks again -- and despite your fear, you can't look away. You aren't even sure if you want to look away.

Your body goes slack on the comforter, melting into itself like a dropped marionnette. "Very good," he purrs. Hazy, you feel his hands on you -- losing their warmth while they sneak under the hem of your sweater. The pads of his fingers are soft in comparison to the tips of his nails, grazing your stomach and sternum before reaching up to cup your breasts. He lets out a shallow breath, squeezing the delicate flesh softly in his palms -- so gentle despite his rough demeanor.

His thumbs graze your nipples in slow circles earning him a mewl from your dry throat.

"So easy," he giggles in a whisper. You nearly pout when his hands slide down and away from you; beginning the unhurried removal of your clothing. He moves glacially, eyes remaining on yours, wraiths of whispers in a lanuage you don't understand fluttering in the air around you -- in one ear and out the other. Part of you wants to scream and thrash while he slides off your spandex, rips the seams of your panties, destroys your socks.

His clawed hands shred your sweater, snap your bra at the straps until all your clothes are left in a heap on the dusty floorboards by a forgotten desk. He crawls over you like a predator, undressed himself now: some how bigger, more hulking than before. His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing while skin so white it's nearly blue stretches over it. Whatever is down here has completely infected him, you can see it in the color of the veins beneath his skin, the slight red in his pupils, the dark blue hues under his eyes.

His wings lift high around him in an arched half circle, tips appearing behind him like a hybrid of horns and halo at once.

"Could smell you from here," he leers, "since last night. Christ, fucking drooling over you like a kid."

You whimper again, body jolting in pain when his nails pierce your thighs when he parts them. Fresh ichor spilling from the wounds in deep sanguine and he doesn't seem to care about the mess he's making while it drips onto the sheets. His cavalier manuevering comes off as though he likes to play with his food before he eats it.

"And I don't know what it is, angel, how my senses find the right ones," he rasps while he leans forward to your blood soaked shoulder; serpent tongue slipping out to lave over it, "But you really called to me this year; think you might be the one."

"The o-one wh-what?" you sniffle. His tongue slides over the lacerations on your shoulder again, sucking slightly from the new wounds. He lets out a groan, using free hand to rest on the side of your rib cage for support.

He deatches from the well he drinks from, tip of his nose running over your decollatage and up your neck. In inhales over your jugular, pressing a wet kiss under your jaw before getting to your ear.

"The one I mate with, sweetheart," he breathes, "The one I breed."

Breed? You heart sinks like a stone into your belly, body tensing in a freeze while you think of what to do. How to get out of here.

"Wait," you gasp, arms coming up to push at his chest and push him away, "No, please, wait -- you can't."

You push and push but he's a stone pillar, he barely moves, his muscles barely push inward at your assault. He tuts, the click of his tongue between his teeth almost a chitter. He noses your cheek before looming over you, tips of your noses brushing. He catches your gaze again, the whispers start while the air blows in through the broken window. Obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo. His lips aren't moving but you can hear his low voice in your ears, barely there, swirling around in your subconcious while the wind whispers with it. Another flash of red lightning illuminates him in a streak, the rumble of thunder vibrating your belly and chest. His hand floats up from your rib cage while you settle, cupping your cheek to slide down to your jaw and over your neck. The touch is nearly comforting, dipping you back into a haze like before.

"You were saying?" he asks.

"Hm?" your brows pinch, his voice muffled and far away.

"That's what I thought," he says smugly, head dipping back down to your neck where his lips drag over your delicate skin. His breath leaves a patch of wet heat that lingers when he moves down over your chest, fangs peeking out behind his full lips when he drags them over the swell of your left breast.

A gentle gasp escapes you, eyes fluttering closed when the tip of his tongue teases your pert nipple, blowing cool air against it once soaked with his spit. He flicks against it again, alternating sides, presses kisses over them in clear ownership. The more he tasted of you, the more it belonged to him.

With each touch and tease of your tits the more you gasp and whine beneath him, he chuckles from his belly, moving down to your sternum.

"And I died a virgin, can you believe it?" he asks with a cocky lift to one of his brows, "Now all I gotta do is smile and girls like you 'll just fall into bed with me."

There's cotton in your ears, all you can do is nod slowly while blood still leaks from your shoulder and thighs. All you can feel is his mouth and hands travel further and further down. The wind howls and the low chant in the back of your head changes tune but in the same cadence; over and over again: vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

He licks a stripe up the back of your thigh to catch a bead of blood before it reaches the mattress, savoring you. He feeds from the gouges he left behind for a moment before inching forward to the apex of your thighs. Eddie inhales your scent deeply, the earthly musk of you making his mouth water in a mix of metal and spit. His nose brushes against the untrimmed hair of your mound, ghosting himself over it drunk with attraction.

Your body heats up with mild embarrassment, flexing while your hips writhe slightly underhim. Almost as if he can hear your thoughts he kisses the crease of your thigh, "Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. Girls don't let it grow like this anymore n' it's such a shame."

You want to speak up and explain it's just 'cause you haven't had the time but your tongue doesn't know how to move anymore. Too tired to speak, too caught up in how he feels, how he touches, how he takes what he wants. You relent again, body relaxing; pliant while he spreads you apart for him a desperate moan pulling from you when his tongue -- still soaked in your blood -- glides from the pool of slick at your opening all the way up to your clit.

You almost gag at the way your body betrays you, sending a spread of electricity over your nerves from your core to your finger tips. "More," you whisper, not even believing you're begging for him, "Please, more."

Eddie's smug in his response, smiling with his eyes while he looks up at you from between your legs, "And good manners? You spoil me, princess."

Your back arches in a soft curve when your hips push back into the mattress, pressing yourself into his waiting mouth. He groans again when your body drips for him, leaving a damp sheen on his cheeks and chin. It's not about your pleasure despite how much of it he's bringing you, but about your consumption. He's devouring you. Licking his plate clean from the outside in.

The moans he takes from you spur him on, getting you further and further away from the fight you put up before. Spilling over for him like a puddle while you writhe, a hand reaching out to rake through his hair. His own reaches up from aroud your thigh to hold you by the wrist tight to your side.

"Hands to yourself," he murmrs, soft lips wrapping around your swollen clit to suck expertly on the bud. You whimper, tugging at his hold but it only makes his grip more intense, pinning you there without much a fight. Not even enough to distract him from the task at hand.

When his tongue sinks back down into your soaking core you feel it, the heat pulsing through your belly while he lets the muscle dip and swirl in your wetness. Your thighs twitch and shake when his nose bumps your sensitive clit, his free hand coming up to gingerly rub circles over it in tandem.

"Oh my god," you whine, "Oh my god -- K-kas don' -- oh my god, ohmygod." He snickers, contining his movements, murmuring a quiet, "God's not here, baby."

Another roll over your hips sends you reeling, his tongue gliding in long strokes when finally the coil in your belly snaps. You fall apart beneath him, loud moans and high pitched squeals while he consumes you through it. Your body vibrates, thighs clamping down over his ears, blood from the slices in your flesh staining his hair and jaw.

He hums low when you settle, gasping for breath on your already dry and scratchy throat while you come down. 

Eddie rises slowly, shoulder blades and wings moving with him while he crawls up your body. Smooth and languid like a snake, his torso hovers above yours while he settles his hips between your thighs. You look up at him, his shape, the way his eyes have blown black, the newfound sharpness in his features. A creature, a monster in your wake — not the same person you saw at the cemetery. 

“Oh,” he coos when he sees your eyes glassy and rounded upon him, “So precious.” 

You're much weaker now, mind and body, the stings across your skin from the broken branches and his sharpened nails a pain you've become better accquainted with. You take another breath of calm, arms resting by your head with your palms up towards the ceiling. He takes the moment of surrender to hold them down against the bed. The pressure of his hips against yours keeps you pinned, but you barely fight -- maybe squirm, maybe whine. No thrashing, no screaming, the whispers echo through the wind again:

Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

"So, so, precious," he whispers while he leans forward, kisses pressed to one cheek and then the other slow and controlled. He inhales again when he dips down to your neck, piercing fangs dragging over the vein there. You feel the push and then the pain, the unbearable blinding pain of his teeth ripping through you. Through your skin, through the muscle, the pulse of his mouth while he holds himself there.

You cry out, nearly a scream while he holds himself there -- just enough to infect you, just enough to get the poison in. The pain reaches a blinding peak, bile growing up your throat, eyes filling with a white hot surge of anguish and then -- Nothing. Euphoria. An unknown lightness you hadn't felt before.

He releases, still holding tight to your wrists above your head when he raises up over you again.

"Open," he instructs, and in your hazy gaze you obey. Your tongue flattens against your chin without command.

"Very good, sweetheart," he praises, collecting the blood left on his lips and in his cheeks to spit it directly into your waiting mouth.

"You can close now," he grins, "And swallow."

He grunts, hips sliding against you so that you can feel his length between your legs; the girth alone sends a chill to the part of you that is screaming inside your head. How is it supposed to fit? How is he supposed to get this inside you? "Don't worry," he laughs, "It'll fit."

When your vision snaps up at him he laughs again, "I can hear you in there, princess. I can always hear you."

He dips down again, tip of his nose sliding over your cheek to your ear, "So be very careful what you think about."

He doesn't need his hands to guide the head of himself into your already needy center. It's a stretch, delicious but nearing painful. It's not something you've ever even dreamed of taking before; thick, large, inhuman.

Your legs lift on their own accord while he pushes in further, getting half way while you let out a choked sob.

"Aw, shh, shh, shh," he mocks, easing in more, "C'mon you can take it."

"You can --" his hips snap in hard for the rest of him, letting out a ragged grunt when the rest of him disappears inside you, "--take it."

You mouth hangs open in a desperate oval, face crumpling when you become so full of him -- all encompassing. A part of you now, buried deep within. He moves, dangerously slow and controlled; methodic in how he thrusts himself deeper and deeper inside. "Mmm, that's it," he growls, chest to chest with him while his hip grind at a deliberate pace. You feel his hot breath fan out over your lips, forehead pressed against yours. He's not hot, he's not cold, just skin against yours while it flashes with heat. You go from shaking to sweating with minutes in between.

When your hips roll to meet his thrusts you moan, the tip hitting you so deep in your core that stars burst behind your eyes. "There we go," he grins mischeviously, "S'at feel good, pet?"

"Ooh, yes," you hiss through gritted teeth, actively trying to bounce yourself againsth him now that your body has started accommodating his sheer size. He raises himself up on his hands like a cobra, snake like peering down at you while he meets the roll of your hips with an unforgiving thrust.

"Good," he oozes the word out like smoke, deliciosly deep seated in his belly when he thrusts hard again. He mumbles a quiet musing to himself that you can't hear -- too gone in the lightness in your body, in the way nothing hurts, in the way you're so full.

Can finally fuck you how I wanna.

He gets up, sitting back on his haunches while still inside you, pushing your legs up so your knees end up by your ears. With this leverage he sinks in deep. You don't even know how far in he is, just that he's in and he's there, he's everywehre, he's outside and in.

Eddie locks eyes with you, that same smirk from the cemetary that made your stomach flip dancing across his devilish features, "Tell me you like it."

Your mouth moves before your brain can hesitate, "I like it." "Tell me you need it," he demands, tone measured and sure.

"I need it," you say back, your voice coming out broken and weak, "Please, I need it."

He pulls back and punches forward, hard enough that you gasp at the impact. He grips you hard by the backs of your legs, thrusts starting slow and building at an unrelenting pace. His eyes are wild; boring down at you through from under furrowed and determined brows. If you had any mind left, you'd think that he hates you by the way he stares.

"Fuck," he snarls, leaning forward over you, one hand pressing down on the mattress next to your head, "Shit -- fuck, that's it. That's fuckin' -- shit, you're fuckin' mine." "Say you need me."

"I need you," you choke back without thinking, barely able to breathe at his speed. The coil tightens deep inside of you again, tears pouring down your cheeks in waves -- not even crying, just recieving. Absorbing him. Your body rocks like a boat on unsteady waves pinned beneath him, the only sounds are the whispers in your subconcious, his growls and sputters like an animal above you. The lewd slaps of skin against skin, the squelches of him pushing you to your limits.

He steadies himself over you, nose to nose again while he fucks you. Really fucks you. Impressed with himself, he lets out a breathy chuckle when you throw your head back -- eyes shutting tight with a pornographic scream.

"Oh GOD!" you cry out, "Oh my god."

His fingers and claws catch your chin with a firm shake, eyes snapping open to meet the knowing glare of his ruddy brown ones.

"Your god," he starts, panting into your mouth, "is right here in front of you."

You swallow, mouth falling agape again when you feel the bite of his nails on the fat of your cheeks. "Right here," you repeat, dazed and overwhelmed, "N'..n'fronname."

"Right here in front of you," he nods, leaning down to brush his nose against yours while his thrusts slow to a steady pace. It's then that his lips meet yours, the kiss searing with desire and claim when his tongue slides into your mouth. You can taste the metallic twang of your blood in his mouth, sighing into it while he guides the kiss. Breaking away and coming back in; rushed and heated each time while he feels himself get closer to his peak.

His forehead presses against yours, one hand finally releasing your wrist to hold your head in place over your hair. You keep eye contact with him, not even sure if you're blinking, if you even need to blink. You rasp breaths, mouth and throat dry and aching while you breathe into him. You're close, teetering on the edge while he pushes you up with his hips to rest your lower body on his knees and thighs.

"Come undone," he murmurs, "Let go for me."

The command ripples through you, bursting through your belly with a warm heat. You welcome it, eyes rolling, cries pouring from you in words you don't think you understand. He encourages you, offering you rough sweet nothings while you pray to him, beg for him, ache for him.

That's enough to send him over; seeing you completely at his mercy now. Obedient, trained, devoured.

He snares and snarls, growling while he comes deep inside of you. The hand on your head wraps painfully in your hair like it did before you started -- uncaring, brutal. The heat of his seed pools deep within you like the heart of your orgasm. Glazed over you groan, hips rolling up in one final cant to receive him fully. Your vision vingettes while he unsheathes from you; fluids leaking onto the sheets. You're empty and the room spins with a new blackness, you're fading. Fainting? Dying?

The fuzziness continues to darken arouns you, around him, until he's all that's left in the tunnel of your vision. "That's a good girl," he soothes smugly, "Very well done."

Your gaze and mind fade fully to a staticky black.

You wake, you’re not sure how much later. 

Still on the bed and still undressed but your arms feel tight – a tug reveals your current state. Bound to a post on the headboard by a triple handcuff knot, dense hemp rope keeping your arms above your head. 

You whine and struggle, coming to your senses now – no one knows where you are, you barely know where you are. An underworld – hell. Somewhere. 

“Don’t look so terrified, sweetheart,” his smooth honey voice is heard before he appears in the candle light again, “I’m right here.” 

“Wh-why am I –” you swallow thickly, coughing and sputtering with how dry your mouth and throat are now, “Why am I tied up?” 

He looks at you with faux concern, brows raising, “Oh honey, are you okay?” 

He reaches out, pushing your hair away from your face, “Don’t be stressed. Y’know something – I just realized, I never offered you anything to drink.” 

“My uncle always told me you should take a girl out to dinner before makin’ the van rock and look at me,” he gestures at his chest, tutting at himself, “Where are my manners, huh?” 

Your lip wobbles while he looms over you, “Are you thirsty?” 

You nod, he grins – cheshire like, fangs glinting in the light, “I thought you would be.” He gets up, lazy and confident in his walk across the room. His body looks like marble, chiseled with the running and hunting you realize he’s been doing for over a decade. Stronger than ever; ethereal in his post orgasm glow. 

He pulls his hair back while he walks, holding it up away from his neck while your eyes travel down his back where his wings have tucked in under the skin. You gag when you see them move above his blades, rippling beneath the tattoos he has there. He’s dressed in only shorts; silk – likely stolen to really own the whole vampire thing he has going on. 

You take in a shaky breath when he gets what he needs, dropping his hair back to his shoulders when he makes his way back to you. 

He holds the dagger coolly in his hand before gliding the tip down the center of his wrist. Blood blooms from the wound; he doesn’t even flinch. 

“Open, princess,” he murmurs. Your lips clamp shut, shaking your head no while fear takes over – rot in your chest. He catches your chin again, forcing you to look at him like before. 

“Open,” he repeats, slower. His voice reverberates like a gong between your ears. 

Your mouth opens on its own accord and the smell of his blood becomes the most alluring scent you’ve had pass your nose in years. You latch on to the laceration, swallowing and sucking deeply on the wound while his blood and body quench and feed you better than any meal you think you’ve ever had. You feel revived as you devour him, eyes fluttering closed while the fill feels never enough. 

“That’s it, keep goin’,” he encourages under his breath, “Won’t have to keep asking you to do things twice once this is all over with.” 

You break away to breathe, gasping like you’re coming up for air, drowning in him. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean you’ll be just like me, sweetheart,” he says, chuckling when you eagerly lean forward to drink him again, “After a night of some deeply insurmountable pain; and then nothing. Just mine. Undead and mine.” 

“But y–you said you were – I’m –” your brows knit in confusion, “You didn’t h-have to d-do this; whatever you um – whatever you bred me with will die if you do this.” 

“Oh, no, no,” he laughs evilly, “I didn’t breed you quite yet.” 

He pulls his arm away, wiping the blood from your chin with his thumb roughly. 

“Consider what we did a, uh…hmm,” he takes a second to think about it with a hum, shrugging cheekily, “A soul bonding experience.” 

“You’re disgusting,” you spit. 

“I’m delicious,” he corrects, smearing his blood from your chin to your cheek, “If you do say so yourself.” 

He gets up again, pulling the covers out from under you to tuck you in. The chill getting to you in a way it never gets to him; you might as well be warm while you turn into actualized death. 

“I can hear you, remember?” he asks, tapping your head, “You won’t be totally alone with me. There’s…shit there are plenty just like us.” 

“Like Steve,” you pipe up groggily. 

“More than just goodie two-shoes Harrington,” he groans, “God, do you ever shut up about him?”

You sniffle in response.

“I mean this place, this – dimension,” he says, “It’s more than just Hawkins, and there are so many more like us; even up there.” 

He points upwards with a sharp nailed finger, “All around.” 

“And now that you’ll be just like me,” he smiles, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you in the crook of you waist, “There’ll be all the time in the world to breed you.” 

Your vision blurs, either from tears or from another fade, you aren’t sure. You can feel a slow burn through your veins, a rush of blood. You whimper. 

“So it begins,” he smirks, running the tip of his finger over your nose bridge. 

“Oh!” he says, eyes bulging, “Before I forget, and before I lose you – because you’ll be such a pretty blank slate when you come to – I felt like I should be honest.” 

He gestures dramatically, a maniacal grin pushing his cheeks up to his eyes while they spark, “Again with my manners, it was so rude of me to introduce myself to Pete’s grave at the cemetery. We’ve met before! Can’t believe I had almost forgotten.” 

Ice in your body fights the burning in your veins, you gag, bile coming up to singe your throat. 

“And y’know, I didn’t mean to drop him in the quarry when I was done with him,” he says with a scrunch of his nose, like he accidentally wrote the wrong tip on a restaurant check, “Really, my mistake, but Christ did he hit every piece of limestone on the way down.” 

He lets out a hearty laugh while he remembers it, your brother's body bouncing off rocks and metal before slipping under the water. You swallow your sick only or it to rise back up with a vengeance, staining your skin red while it seeps out of the corner of your mouth. You tug on the ropes in retaliation, hot angry tears stinging your eyes. 

“All that fallin’ did a number on him – which is good because it really took the heat of anyone knowing it was me. I just wasn't as clean about it back then. Much better now though,” he nods, finishing with a superior and charming look like he just told a bedtime story. 

He leans forward close to your face while your vision pulses in fuzzy black, browning out while he looks down at you. 

“And I’ll tell you something, babe…” 

Fading, fading, fading.

“He tasted divine.”

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

MOST DATABLE DATABLE CHARACTER 2 THIRD PLACE

Claude propaganda:

"To say Claude has trust issues is an understatement—you have to spend half the game earning his. (Claude isn't even his real name!) Once you have it, though, he's absolutely ride or die for you until the stars go out. He is so full of heart and ambition: He wants both sides of his heritage to get along, he wants to open borders and eliminate xenophobia and promote equality between commonfolk, and deep down, I think he craves a partner to stand with him at that new dawn, or an equal who sees his vision for the future and will fight for it just as hard. Nobody believed in him when he was a kid, but if you put your faith in him, he'll return it tenfold. Some people don't like that he's calculating, or has to leave the player character at the end of the game to go back to his homeland, but both are necessary elements for his goals to change things. He will always come back, and everyone who bets against him and his love for his companions is wrong with a big fat W. #KhalidForMostDatablePrez"

"Claude is a fun little onion of facades. He calls himself the embodiment of distrust, he acts like he's carefree and without worries, an unscrupulous schemer--and so many in universe buy into that hook line and sinker. He's used to others viewing him with suspicion and uses it as armor to obscure his not-so-dark truth: that he cares immensely, that he values minimizing the loss of life, and that above all he has so much hope that people will fundamentally choose to do better given the choice.

His front guards a center that his conflict filled world would be happy to tear apart. As the child of people from two nations in constant conflict--one of which is explicitly isolationist and dehumanizes those outside its church's reach--he hasn't really had a place where he can be without his facade. As a child he thought he could run, but when confronted with the fact that this hatred existed no matter where he ran, he chose to instead try to create a more just and kind world.

His inability to let others in beyond his facade at first may lead to a sense of distance, but isn't it then all the more satisfying when you're allowed in? All he wants is a little trust, a little faith, and--like what he wants to give everyone--a chance to be better.

And like that you got a charming young lad with a fun personality that your grandma would be thrilled to have stay forever."

Elliott propaganda:

“Just look at him. Pure hunk energy.”

“I will punch anyone who dislikes him. He’s like a fire emblem character in the modern day. He’s so flamboyant and handsome, he can play the piano and he’s best friends with the old fishing man!”

“dramatic writer man with sexy hair”

"Since I like elliott. I will state some reasons why I like him

Imagine if Mr. Darcy didn’t insult your family first time you met him, that’s Elliott. The man who’s basically the hallmark romance love interest. He’s a writer who moves to the small town in the country side to find inspiration for his writing. Then he finds the farmer.

He has a crab living in his pocket

He can play the piano (hopefully it isn’t the river flows in you however)

His fans sometimes hc him as a merman and that’s just a major plus IMO

He genre of the book he writes is dependent on what genre you say you like.

He also sends letters to you if you marry him

Okay and also some things I dislike

His liked gifts, the easiest one is pomegranates, which cost like 6000g to grow a tree if you don’t pick the fruit cave. I AM NOT GETTING SQUID INK IN YEAR ONE FOR YOU.

he might be British /j

The fact he has no kitchen but still likes food like lobster, like he is just a mystery. Lives in a cabin, with no kitchen, no washroom (okay no character has a washroom), but still likes the most fancy food out there and has luscious hair worthy of a L’Oréal ad.

Gifting him on rainy days when you don’t have two hearts"

[butterflydm]

Additional WoT 3x04 thoughts

That was so good. Okay, now that I've gotten some sleep, some more thoughts. spoilers for the show through 3x04 and for the books through the fires of heaven

Rand's journey through the columns kinda washed it away for me at the time, but I did really love the beginning with Rand and Lan, and us getting some insight into what Rand is getting out of his training sessions with Lan, and the ways in which Lan is treating him like an adult capable of making his own choices, and Rand's reservations about any potential relationship he might have to the Aiel people.

Of course, we the audience know that Lan is still keeping Moiraine's secrets for her (including that time she let Rand and all his friends get attacked by Lanfear), but I don't think Rand ever forgets that Lan is Moiraine's Warder.

We got two transformative journeys for relationships last night and I'm glad that they gave those two moments to Rand & Aviendha near the beginning and the end of the episode, and the way that Aviendha looked at him at the end! (and how she ran away from him lol oh baby, run as hard as you can but you can't outrun wanting to bang that man like a house shingle in a storm). Her straight-up picking a fight with him at the beginning because him using a sword so close to Rhuidean reminds her that she's wearing weapons when she knows that she's been called to be a Wise One but she ran away from her duty instead of following her duty to her people! Everything that we had with Rand and Aviendha was so perfect.

And the other one, of course, being the journey that Rand and Moiraine took together. So, I mentioned last night that I do get why they didn't want Mat there... I love Mat's story in the Waste, with Rand, but Mat being there does (I am reluctantly forced to admit) undercut the specific character and relationship arcs that we are currently undergoing with Rand and that we probably need to undergo with Rand in order to get him where he needs to be with his relationships in the future. Mat being there means we need to carve out a third storyline in Rhuidean. Mat being there means that Lanfear needs to haunt him too (trying to drive him away from Rand) the way that she's haunting Egwene, or else her entire premise (I'm the Only One Who Cares About You, Rand) falls completely to pieces. Show!Mat, especially, is genuinely such an amazing friend that he completely destroys Lanfear's manipulation attempts simply by existing near Rand, and this story that they're telling, where Rand might potentially believe Lanfear when she says that no one would love him if they knew the truth about him, gets a harder shake if Mat is there trying to lift his spirits. Egwene is in the same sort of dark place that Rand is (in part because of Lanfear torturing her every night to keep her there) and Rand also has so much guilt surrounding his relationship with her, both elements that aren't there in his friendship with Mat.

So, yeah, I get it.

But I do really hope that we get our s4 (and s5+) so that we can have Mat back in Rand's storyline and making him smile again. <3

Rand and Moiraine did go on a very transformative journey, both together and separate. I loved how we see at the beginning exactly why Rand is wary with her, and yet how Moiraine can sincerely believe she has "done nothing but help him" even though we've literally seen her sit and do nothing while he and his friends were calling for help in 3x01. Their moments at Avendasora together, and Rand realizing how connected their threads have been, with her uncle being the one who set into motion the events that led to his birth on Dragonmount. And then their looks toward each other at the end of the episode. Definitely very interested to see what they will have to say to each other in 3x05!

I loved all the interactions that we saw Rand having with all the Aiel characters! That was all so good. We got some really great stuff, and it was pretty book-accurate but it was translated to screen so well. Amys-with-a-Bair-nametag was great; Melaine was great, Sevenna was great (...a sentence I would never say about book!Sevenna); Couladin was great, etc and so forth! I loved all the interactions.

The horror of the thousand-thousand futures was really well done -- to start with a future that seemed happy but that would doom the world (Moiraine a happy fishwife, smiling at Siuan) to the futures where Lanfear kills her in so many different ways. You really can feel that there's only a narrow path forward that Moiraine needs to forge. We know that we're going to get Moiraine talking to Lan about the rings (presumably in 3x05) so I'm interested to see what else she tells him that we didn't already see in the trailers. We saw so many different ways she tried to guide Rand (and they DID include the one where she and Rand became lovers, I noticed!) and so many ways it ended in death and doom.

Moiraine straight-up stealing the strongest sa'angreal in the world from the Aiel people! Definitely in character but girl, damn! And that was before she saw any of the futures, so it wasn't even her thinking that she would need it for something specific in a future vision.

And the centerpiece of the episode. Rand's journey into the past. It was so good.

I'm really glad that we got the scenes with Janduin! "Shade of my heart!" Him telling her that they'd won, desperately cupping her face but not feeling any warmth. That was so heartbreaking. Giving Rand this moment in particular was a good way for the show to lead into Rand being more deeply affected by the columns than he was in the books, because this mirrors the grief that he saw his father (Tam) go through when they lost his mother (Kari). It instantly gave him a point of connection that he could deeply relate to -- as his adoptive father loved and lost his wife too soon, his blood father loved and lost his wife too soon. Seeing and feeling how deeply his mother was loved, and how deeply his own absence was felt by his father, it gives him a starting connection to his bloodline that we're able to trace through to his previous ancestors.

The formation of Rhuidean, and seeing ancient Latra. The last of the Aes Sedai from the Age of Legends (who isn't a Forsaken trapped in a seal). Gorgeous. And we also once again the reinforcement of "shade of my heart" as an endearment.

Lewin! I saw someone calling him hobbit!Rand and, yes! There were definite hobbit vibes going on with his hair. This vision was truly the formation of the Aiel as who they are today. I am going to say, I kinda like that the show didn't feel the need to call out the moment when the Maidens first picked up the spear, because that just makes it feel more assumed that, yeah, just as some men decided to make this choice, women started deciding it too.

This whole sequence was so heartbreaking! And I definitely noticed that they made Lewin's friends reminiscent of Mat & Perrin. The scene between Lewin and his mother at the end is so much. "I had a son with a face like that once. I do not want to see it on a killer."

I feel like this specific moment in time is the one that kills so many Aiel who try to go through the columns. Learning that their entire way of life is based on breaking their oaths to be committed to peace. That what they believed was a noble thing about not touching swords is actually a last desperate attempt to hold onto any remaining honor after losing the Way of the Leaf.

Poor Jonai, struggling with the Way of the Leaf and remaining firm to it, as the Tuatha'an choose to break their ancestors' oaths and abandon their duty to safeguard what the Aes Sedai left them. I really like the connection we had with Adan his grandson being a small boy in this one, and then being Lewin's grandfather in the vision just before it. That really helped with a sense of emotional continuity. Adan's entire life was this journey to the east! Bookended by loss and violence and yet Adan never wavered in his own commitment to the Way of the Leaf.

And I had originally thought that our queer!Rand ancestor was Jonai, but I don't believe he got a name, and I think he was Jonai's grandfather. What a wonderful surprise he was. I adored his scene with Latra, and getting to see Josha do entire scenes in the Old Tongue was such a delight. Every one of the ancestors felt so sharply drawn and unique, but this one in particular really really drew me in even before we found out he was queer, though that definitely helped me feel even more connected to him <3 <3

He's so quiet and sincere and earnest. Committed to his duty and the honor that it brings him. Reminds me of Warders, in a way (with much less fighting lol), instead of the kind of generational servitude that original Aiel were in the books. And seeing how futuristic the wagons were, comparing to the wooden wagons that we see two generations later with Jonai!

And we end with Charn, speaking to Mierin and seeing the Bore, and catching a glimpse of the Dark One!

This scene was so good! We once again saw Charn's devotion and his genuine joy in his work, like we did with his descendant -- he seemed interested in what Mierin Sedai was saying about finding a source of power that anyone could use, but mentioned that he wouldn't want to use it to bring the harvest in, because he finds value and joy in doing it with his own hands.

I loved the way that the Bore looked. It really did look like a crack in reality.

And Mierin was great. She was warm and kind with Charn, but there were hints there of what would grow to consume her in the future -- her telling Charn the importance of not letting go of the ones you love... actually, Mierin, you definitely should let them go if they break up with you and marry someone else! That's definitely the point at which you should let them go!

I am very curious if Mierin will come up the next time Rand talks to Lanfear.

The journey of the tree throughout the episode! How the object of power rested inside its branches as it was small, as it waited for Latra to find it again. I really like how Latra was the one who created Rhuidean! And how devastating it must have been to her, to see what the Aiel had become, after we saw the relationship that she had with the Aiel when she was younger, during the very beginnings of the breaking of the world. And this also shows us the lifespan of how long powerful Aes Sedai could live, and how many 'normal' lives it spans.

What a brilliant episode.

[coefore]

I did it! This is an IDW AU born while watching The Green Knight (2021), specifically from one movie shot that I'd like to redraw. I was torn on whether or not to draw them all as robots or humans, so I started making designs for their human counterparts first - mostly because it is more fun to come up with clothes and accessories. I will eventually tackle a robot version. This is a long post, btw!

Indeed, this is a completely separate version from the Lion King AU I had come up with a couple of years ago, I just borrowed the crowns because I really liked those designs lol.

But let's set the stage under the cut. You can listen to the playlist on spotify dedicated to it: I've placed the songs in sequence so that they can create a certain vibe for the scenes I had in mind. You can read the plot part while listening.

Some character traits

This royalty au supposes a parliamentary monarchy (like the UK, Spain or Japan). This work is an in-between of later Roman/early Medieval aesthetics and some Futuristic Stuff. The Autobot brand is the royal family crest, while the Decepticon brand can be used to signal the Protector and their entourage, but only in formal settings outside the nation. Usually, the Protector can show elements of the Decepticon colours (red) in their attires.

Optimus Prime

Optimus is prideful and domineering: he knows he has the power to do real damage to people. After all, he was born into royalty and has known no other life. He has anger outbursts, but that's a side effect of his paranoia. At the start of the story, he is not the prime yet. He's around 23-24, already suffering from a mental affliction much like schizophrenia, but, just as in ye old days, the court and his father (Zeta) are not really concerned about his odd behaviours. "He is just volatile", you know. He is also dramatic, making big scenes when his emotions are too cooped up. Optimus, though, is not intentionally cruel - this isn't a Shattered Glass au where he wants some kind of bloodlust sated. He has a deep inner mind, feeling much more like a philosopher and a writer than a brute. This makes him a little naive, too, having people in court (like Prowl) taking advantage of him - and sometimes even Megatron uses his influence on Optimus to stir him where he wants to. He reads a lot, is curious, and is deeply in love with Megatron - sometimes becoming a little cringy about it. He can be a bit of a goofball, telling jokes and being rather affectionate with his family. Sadly, he's a Pisces.

Megatron

Megatron is a diligent engineer who just so happens to pick the Prime's son's interest at some point while assisting his father (Terminus, a strict, distant man) in a job at court. Optimus and Megatron are the same age. He is aloof, quiet and a very good listener. That means he often allows people to speak over him or for him - that doesn't mean, however, that he isn't going to correct them or speak his mind. He is just a careful man. Coming from a rather cold family environment, he has a hard time expressing his emotions, both verbally and physically: he kisses and hugs, sure, but that doesn't come naturally to him. After becoming protector, he has a hard time getting used to the court lifestyle since he is quite bothered by the intricacies of royal "rituals", may they be clothing, hairstyles or make-up choices. Or Starscream fussing over him about that all day. He also often stands up against abuse of power, especially from Optimus. They fight quite a lot. He enjoys drawing (buildings, like architecture) and reading novels, but he's not particularly cultured. He is also, sadly, an Aquarius. (And transgender, but this has no political or social bearing in the story besides being Rodimus' biological carrier).

Prowl

Prowl is about fifteen years older than Optimus, becoming his advisor once Zeta Prime passes in "a tragic accident". He is ambitious, cunning and... Deceptive. His ultimate goal is to push Optimus to insanity, convince the parliament he is unfit to rule and become reagent in his stead. This would allow him to create an oligarchy with other senators. His words always support Optimus' delusions, abusing the Prime's naivety for his scheming. Prowl thinks of Optimus as an idiot lucky enough to be born in a high position in the social pyramid. He has attempted various times to "warn" Megatron, one of the few people who is extremely suspicious of Prowl. And by warn, I mean having him pushed down the stairs, giving him a nice broken leg. He also acts suspiciously around Rodimus.

Zeta Prime

Zeta Prime was a balanced, careful ruler. He held concerns about his son's future, as he thought Optimus wasn't fit for a leading role. He was a stern man and often frustrated by Optimus' antics. However, their relationship was on good terms. He was "found" dead by Prowl during a political meeting abroad, as he was standing in for Alpha Trion (Zeta's advisor), prompting Optimus' coronation. Zeta wasn't sick, but all primes in this AU suffer from haemophilia (a hereditary illness that makes it harder for the body to stop bleeding).

Rodimus

Rodimus was born three years into Optimus' primacy. He was brought up in a restrictive environment, as Megatron grew more suspicious of Prowl, fearing for Rodimus' safety. That translated into Rodimus feeling anxious when Megatron's not around (for too long, at least) and becoming a little jealous of him, even if it's Optimus taking Megatron's attention. Rodimus uses "dad" for Megatron and "Father" for Optimus. He doesn't like Optimus too much, usually bearing his presence and ignoring him whenever he can, but deep down he worries about his father, too. He is a very knowledgeable child with a vast vocabulary, as he enjoys books of every kind and, just like his dad, he is a good listener, learning a lot from the "adult conversations" around him. Rodimus is often seen together with Starscream (his nanny, in a way lol), who he is fond of but has difficulties showing it. He becomes Prime-to-be at the age of 16, like all Primes.

Starscream

Starscream was the royal alchemist, an inspired researcher and a man of science. He is loyal and has strong opinions on many subjects, especially on morals and ethics. That is also why, during Zeta's late reign, he was demoted to servant with the accusation of insubordination. He is still a high-grade servant, usually dealing with bureaucracy... Until a new Protector shows up, that is. As soon as Megatron becomes a Protector-to-be, he is assigned the role of first maid in assisting him, a task he takes very seriously. Although Megatron's distance and lack of interactions with him drive him quite mad at first, he slowly realises they're quite compatible. Their relationship evolves into confidants and then friends, as Megatron often takes Starscream's side. Also, Starscream has been suspicious of Prowl since day one. He enjoys Rodimus until he starts being a little opinionated pest-- but he's fond of the child, even as he grows older and more anxious. His hobby is sneaking into the court laboratories and fixing whatever annotations made by other alchemists he deems wrong.

Skywarp & Thundercracker

They are part of the Protector's entourage (and Starscream's brothers). Skywarp is a little airheaded, a bit clumsy, and usually focuses on entertainment, mostly writing poems and songs. He is the only one who knows all the intricate inner passages of the court's buildings by heart, meaning he never gets lost. Thundercracker, on the other hand, is a bit more cocky. He is built like a brick, so he helps with manual tasks and is a decent leader, usually picking up the ranks when Starscream is busy. Both of them were not demoted like their brother, they just started working at the court as high-grade servants. They are very loyal to Megatron, although they treat him more like a royal than a friend.

The Plot (generally speaking)

Optimus is interested in this one engineer working at the court he has seen a couple of times in the last few months. He is gorgeous, and it sounds like a fun time to fill in his afternoons, maybe even getting some sex out of it. That's a thing he hasn't lacked in his life, like most royals he was used to having sex workers available at whim. However, Megatron doesn't seem too affected by the Prime-to-be's attention. He is very deadpan and interested in him as a person; he finds Optimus interesting and funny, so, in a matter of weeks, they kind of hit it off, Optimus falling madly in love with this man, spending most of the time daydreaming and absolutely useless at his duties, much to Zeta's dismay.

As this love story progresses over the next couple of years, Prowl's machination starts rolling out: being a young overachiever, he patiently waits for the chance to get rid of Zeta in a way that doesn't point directly to him. After all, Prowl is trusted and seen as loyal and caring for the Primes he serves; he is an incredibly talented actor, having the support of a few Autobot senators, too. On an out-of-country political trip, he lets Zeta bleed to death, coming back home in a hurry to announce the Prime's death and rushing Optimus' coronation. At this point, Optimus is not mentally ready to hold that position; he is quickly pushed to marry Megatron, making him his Protector. In a matter of a year and a half, Optimus' mental state quickly deteriorates, allowing Prowl to take hold of the neo-Prime's decisions.

Optimus' mental illness worsens, which stresses Megatron into stirring his husband away from Prowl. Rodimus is born in that worried, paranoid environment. Although mostly wanted by Optimus as one of his fixations (and also discouraged by Prowl himself), Rodimus brings more stability to the court. Megatron finally takes hold of Optimus' volatile behaviour as Rodimus grows older, making the Prime doubt his advisor's suggestions more than once. Prowl, thus, "warns" Megatron to lay low, having him pushed down the stairs. The goal wasn't to kill Megatron but to show him Prowl could. As Rodimus turns seven, Megatron becomes more anxious and paranoid, rubbing that over to his son. Optimus doesn't allow them to go around the court or outside without being accompanied.

Prowl's hold on Optimus slowly slips away. At the time of Rodimus' coronation as a Prime-to-be, during a medical examination for his haemophilia, the court physician (Ratchet) tells him he needs to be careful, as that illness was Zeta's cause of death. That was a known thing, of course, but it made Optimus think over the mechanics of his father's death in a way only an obsession-driven man can. He confides with Megatron over his suspicion of Prowl killing his father, and finally, they seem to be on the same page on this...

This is somehow the story up to now. I don't know if I'll update it further. I just enjoy the idea of whatever can happen in this setting. I hope you enjoyed reading this wall of text.

[winteringdream]

MEET UGLY ──── han taesan

You've had a small crush on Taesan since your first year of university. Now that second year has begun, you're determined to get to know him better. Your first meetings with him are ugly to say the least. But as you try to connect with him, you realize that Taesan struggles to show his feelings. Will the two of you manage to show each other how you feel, or will your feelings remain untold?

✩ ⋅ pairing. bio major!taesan x bio major fem!reader ✩ ⋅ genre. fluff, angst, university!au, mutual pining (i tried) ✩ ⋅ warnings. alcohol intake, miscommunication, ankle injury, mentioning of being followed, reader studies quite hard-core, overworking ✩⋅ wc. 7k ✩⋅ with ive's liz & rei, all of bonedo and triples mayu ✩⋅ a/n: no mentioning of y/n, also the you character is somewhat similar to taesan personality-wise

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You don’t expect to run into Taesan outside the library, but there he is, standing near the entrance, his usual neutral expression in place. He looks like he’s thinking about something, though, his gaze distant as he leans slightly against the wall.

When he notices you approaching, he straightens. His eyes flick over your tote bag, the weight of the books inside probably obvious. “Studying all day?”

You let out a sigh, shifting the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “Yeah. Just catching up on stuff.”

Taesan nods, silent for a moment. Then, he clears his throat. “You should take a break.” His looks around, not daring to make eye contact. 

“A break?” You blink at him, surprised by the suggestion. Had he been waiting for you?

He exhales, looking slightly to the side as if this is harder to say than he expected. “There’s a record store near campus. It has a café next to it.” A pause. “I thought you might like it.”

Your eyes widen slightly. Is he asking you out?

“Wait.” You tilt your head, amused. “Are you inviting me?”

Taesan scoffs lightly, shifting his weight onto his other foot. “Forget it.”

You bite back a smile. “I didn’t say no.”

And just like that, you find yourself walking beside him. The record store isn’t too far, tucked into a quieter part of the neighborhood, away from the usual campus rush.

The bell above the door jingles softly when you step inside, and a wave of warmth greets you, the scent of old vinyl and wood filling the space. The store is dimly lit, cozy, with shelves upon shelves of records, some new, some vintage. A soft, crackling jazz tune plays from the speakers.

Taesan walks in like he’s been here plenty of times before, heading straight to one of the sections. You take your time, letting your fingers skim over the worn edges of the album covers, occasionally pulling one out to examine the artwork.

“You into vinyls?” you ask, glancing at him. He seems more in his element here, different from how he usually is.

Taesan picks up a record, turning it in his hands. “Yeah.”

You wait for him to elaborate, but of course, he doesn’t. You chuckle at the way he’s clearly trying to distract himself. 

“You gonna leave it at that?”

“I like the sound. Feels more real than digital.” You blink at him, surprised by the suggestion.

You hum, considering that. “I get that. There’s something nice about hearing the little imperfections in the audio.”

Taesan nods approvingly, as if you just passed some kind of test. He moves further into the store, and you follow, pausing when a particular album catches your eye.

“Oh, my dad used to play this all the time when I was a kid.” You pull out the record, smiling at the cover. “My favorite one out of all the ones he played.” 

Taesan glances over, then back at you. “You have good taste, then.”

You blink, surprised by the casual compliment. He doesn’t seem to notice what he just said, already scanning the shelves again.

You spend a while browsing, exchanging the occasional comment about album covers and song titles. Eventually, Taesan checks the time. “Coffee?”

You nod, and the two of you step out of the store and into the small café next door. It’s quiet inside, the smell of freshly brewed coffee wrapping around you like a blanket. 

As you wait for your drinks, you lean against the counter. “So, you do this often?”

“What?” Taesan replies, looking at you. He takes note of the way you’re standing, in stark contrast from when the two of you were still uncomfortable with each other. 

“Take people to record stores and coffee shops.”

Taesan huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Not really.”

“Not really, or not at all?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Then, after a beat, he shrugs. “Not at all.”

Something about that makes your stomach do a small flip. You glance away, focusing on the barista handing you your drink.

The two of you find a small table by the window, where the late afternoon light filters in. For a while, neither of you speak, just sipping your drinks in comfortable silence. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he says.  “You should send me songs you like.”

You raise a brow. “Why?”

“So I can see if you have decent taste.” His smirk is subtle, but it’s there.

“Bold of you to assume I’ll text you.” You scoff, trying to see if he’s serious or not.

“Then how are you gonna prove me wrong?” he challenges, leaning slightly forward. 

You open your mouth to argue, but stop when he slides his phone across the table. You blink at it. Then at him.

“You’re serious?” you ask.

A small warmth spreads in your chest as you pick up his phone and enter your number. When you slide it back to him, he types something quickly before your own phone buzzes in your pocket.

You check the message. It’s just your name, nothing else.

You raise a brow at him. “That’s it?”

“What else do you want?” he asks, taking a sip of his coffee. You shake your head, but you’re smiling. And though you can’t see it, Taesan is also smiling. 

The sky is dimming when you step out of the café. The conversation flows easily as you walk, teasing him about his questionable opinions on music and laughing at his responses.

By the time you reach your dorm, the air between you is comfortable, natural in a way that feels new. Taesan lingers for a second, then nods toward your phone. “Text me when you get to your room.”

“Why? So you can make sure I don’t listen to bad music?” You joke. 

His gaze flickers to you. “Something like that.”

“You told me I had good taste. Are you sure it’s not because you want to steal some of my good taste?” Earning a scoff from Taesan. 

“I only complimented you once, don’t get too ahead of yourself.” He replies with a smile on his face, his arm reaching out to open the door for you. 

The two of you wait until the elevator arrives before saying goodbye. Taesan feels the need to say more but he doesn’t get the chance to. 

“See you around, Taesan.” You wave to him as you walk into the elevator. 

“Yeah. See you.” He nods, feeling somewhat disappointed that the date had ended. “Don’t forget to–” 

“Lock my door. I know, I’ll make sure.” You flash a smile to him, and he smiles back. Once again he waits and makes sure the doors of the elevator are fully closed before turning back.

His fingers tighten around his phone and he unlocks it to see the chat between the two of you still open. Even though only his message with your name is displayed on his screen, for some reason, having your name in his contacts feels like something important.

Taesan doesn’t open his phone until he gets back to his own building, but when he does his heart skips a beat. 

A message from you is staring at him. 

door is locked 🫡

He almost drops his phone when he sees you typing, quickly turning off his phone. He catches sight of his face in the elevator mirror, his cheeks flushed and his expression somewhat happy? He quickly wipes his expression blank.

He turns on his phone and reads the message off of his lock screen. 

i had a great time today

thanks for taking me to the vinyl shop and cafe, i really needed a break :)

After a brief hesitation, he unlocks his phone and types something.

get some rest

He sends it before he can overthink, shoving his phone into his pocket as if that’ll stop the feeling creeping up his chest. And even though he tells himself it’s nothing, that same small, undeniable smile finds its way back to his face.

It starts as a drizzle, soft raindrops tapping against the pavement as you and Taesan walk through campus. The sky had been cloudy all afternoon, but neither of you had checked the forecast, too caught up in the conversation. You had grabbed coffee together after class, and everything had felt natural, lighthearted and comfortable.

But then the rain picks up, you should have expected it. Spring was nearing. 

You glance up just as a droplet lands on your cheek, followed by another. Within seconds, the drizzle turns into a steady pour, the cold seeping through the thin fabric of your sweater.

“Oh, you have to be kidding me,” you groan, pulling your sleeves over your hands as if that’ll protect you from getting drenched.

Taesan exhales sharply, looking up at the sky in exasperation. “Of course this happens now.”

“Should we run for it?” you ask, glancing toward the nearest building, but Taesan has already grabbed your wrist, tugging you toward a large tree near the walkway. Its thick branches and dense leaves offer some shelter, but not much.

Underneath, the two of you stand close, droplets slipping through the gaps between the leaves, dampening your hair and shoulders. You shake your sleeves out, huffing a laugh. “Well, this is great.”

Taesan runs a hand through his hair, pushing wet strands away from his forehead. “At least we’re not completely soaked.”

“Not yet,” you point out, shivering slightly.

He notices. Without hesitation, he pulls off his hoodie, shaking out the water before holding it out to you.

You blink. “What—”

“You’re cold,” he says simply.

“And what about you?” You hesitate, looking between him and the hoodie. 

“I’ll survive,” he says, tone even. Then, when you don’t take it, he sighs and raises a brow. “Or do you just want to keep shivering?”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re so annoying.”

“And you’re still cold.”

He wins. Huffing, you take the hoodie from his hands and pull it over your head. It’s warm, slightly damp but still more comfortable than your thin sweater. The scent of him lingers. It’s clean, familiar, something that makes your stomach flip unexpectedly.

You tug the sleeves over your hands, glancing up at him. “Happy?”

“Just a little.” His lips twitch slightly, like he’s holding back a smirk. He tries his best to refrain from smiling, but the way you look in his hoodie is adorable to him.

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the way your fingers subtly curl into the fabric. The rain continues to fall around you, steady and rhythmic, the air carrying that distinct, fresh scent of a downpour.

“Thanks,” you mumble, adjusting the sleeves.

Taesan nods, shoving his hands into his pockets. The rain continues to fall around you, steady and rhythmic. For a while, neither of you say anything, just watching the empty walkway, listening to the soft patter of raindrops against leaves.

Then, quietly, he says, “I don’t know when it happened.” His body language shows he’s uncomfortable, his fingers pulling on the hem of his shirt. 

“What?” You glance at him. 

His eyes stay fixed ahead, as if he’s still deciding whether to say it. Then, with a slow inhale, he turns to face you fully. “I like you.”

Your breath catches.

His expression is unreadable, but there’s something about the way he says it that makes your heart race. He doesn’t fidget, doesn’t look away. It’s as if he’s already accepted the weight of his words, even before knowing how you’ll respond.

“You do?” you ask, your voice quieter than you expect.

Taesan exhales, his lips twitching into something like amusement. “Yeah.” He pauses, tilting his head slightly. “That’s usually how it works.”

You huff a soft laugh, still stunned. “And you’re telling me now? In the middle of a downpour?”

“Not like I planned it.” He shrugs, but Taesan wished it wasn’t raining. Maybe he would’ve done something more special, but he couldn’t take it anymore. His heart was about to burst with the love he has for you, waiting any longer would result in a heart attack, he was sure of it.

You shake your head, but there’s a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the hoodie. Despite the rain, despite the way your fingers are still cold, you feel something settle inside you, a realization that you’ve been waiting for this. For Taesan to show you how he feels, for him to come to you.

You meet his gaze, heart pounding. “I like you too.”

Something shifts in his expression. His shoulders relax slightly, the corner of his mouth curving upward in the smallest, almost relieved smile. He tries his best to slow down his racing heart, but the fact you like him too makes it hard to. 

For a while, you both just stand there, hidden under the branches, listening to the rain. The world outside feels muted, softened by the misty air. It feels like a secret moment, one just for the two of you.

After a beat, Taesan exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was going to wait.”

“For what?” You turn to him, a drop of rain falling on your forehead. 

“I don’t know,” he admits, glancing away briefly. “For the right time, I guess. But I don’t think there was ever going to be one.”

You could’ve at least picked a day with better weather.” You joke, looking up at the leaves and branches of the tree. 

He lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well.” He gestures vaguely to the sky. “Didn’t exactly have control over that.”

You smile, and for the first time in what feels like forever, there’s no uncertainty, no second-guessing. Just the sound of the rain, the quiet, and the fact that, despite everything, you’re both here, standing under this tree together.

The common area of the dorm is relatively quiet when you walk in, save for the low hum of the vending machine and the occasional footsteps in the hallway. The overhead lights cast a warm glow over the space, where Rei, Mayu, and Liz are gathered. 

Rei is stretched out on the couch, flipping through a textbook, her legs draped over Liz’s lap. Liz, completely unbothered, is focused on scrolling through her phone, and Mayu sits on the armrest, sipping on a soda.

You step inside, still slightly dazed. You’re barely a few steps in when Rei looks up, her brows furrowing.

“You look out of it,” she declares. 

Liz turns to look at you, tilting her head. “Oh, she does.” 

Mayu lowers her drink, narrowing her eyes. “You were out with Taesan, right?”

At the mention of his name, your stomach flips. You grip the sleeve of your sweater instinctively, your mind replaying the moment under the tree, the way the rain had softened everything around you, your own words slipping past your lips before you could second-guess them.

I like you too.

You take a deep breath and walk fully into the room, sitting down in the empty chair across from them. 

“He confessed.”

For a moment, there’s silence. It’s as if time has stopped. The three girls blink, not registering the words you just said.

“WHAT?!” Rei shrieks, sitting up so fast that her textbook slides off her lap and thuds onto the floor. Liz lets out a gasp, and Mayu’s soda almost spills as she jerks upright.

“No way,” Liz breathes, her eyes wide. “Taesan? Confessed?” 

“You’re lying.” Mayu blinks at you like you just told her a celebrity had died. “He actually said it?”

Rei is already leaning forward, eyes gleaming. “Wait, wait, wait, like, with words? He actually admitted it?”  

You exhale sharply, still barely believing it yourself.  “Yeah. Under a tree. In the rain.” You say, and chuckle softly, realising how stupid it sounds.

Mayu recovers from her shock quickly, a soft smile forming on her lips. “I knew it. I knew there was something there.”

“Hold on, hold on. What did you say? ” Rei urges, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. The other two girls also lean forward, anticipating what you have to say. 

“I confessed too.” You hesitate to say it, but there’s no point in dragging it out. You inhale sharply, preparing for their reaction.

Liz inhales sharply. “NO WAY.” 

Mayu’s smile grows, and Rei immediately lunges across the couch, grabbing your wrist and shaking you. “You confessed back?! You actually said it?!”

“Yeah.” You nod, heat creeping up your face. Suddenly the room feels hot, the realisation actually hitting you that you and Taesan both confessed. 

“I cannot believe this!” Rei falls back dramatically onto Liz’s lap but immediately sits up again, practically vibrating with energy. 

“Wait. Does this mean you guys are together now? Like, are you dating?”

“Uh,I don’t know. We didn’t talk about that.” You stammer, you hadn’t thought about it at all. The moment was too intense to think properly. 

Rei groans. “Ugh, typical Taesan.” Then she pauses, grinning. “But also, typical you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You frown, looking at her. 

Mayu chuckles, sipping her soda. “She means that you overthink things, and Taesan overcomplicates them without even trying.”

“Exactly. But still! This is huge. We need to celebrate.” Rei declares, shooting up from her seat and pulling you along with her.

“Celebrate?” you echo, as the four of you walk towards your dorm. 

“Duh. It’s not like you get confessed to every day. You’re the first one who is going to get a boyfriend.” Liz says, slamming the door behind her closed

Rei stands dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. 

“Our emotionally constipated friend has finally admitted her feelings. And Taesan—TAESAN—confessed first? This is historic.” 

You shake your head, but you can’t stop the smile from forming.

Mayu helps Rei take out the wine that was hidden in your fridge. Liz pulls out a chair for you to sit on. 

“To our dearest friend, who has finally managed to pull Taesan after crushing on him for the entirety of our first year and half of second year.” 

Taesan barely makes it through the door before Woonhak nearly collides into him. He’s on his phone, a tiktok playing on his screen. 

"Yo!" Woonhak exclaims, eyes widening. "Where have you been? And why are you soaked from head to toe?"

He steps back, scanning Taesan like he’s searching for something unusual. Jaehyun is sprawled out on the floor, one hand lazily digging into a bag of chips, but at Woonhak’s words, he slowly lifts his head.

"Were you with her?" Jaehyun squints, eyeing him up and down.

Riwoo, lying on his bed with Leehan, glances up and side-eyes Taesan. "He was with her. There’s no way he’d be this soaked if he just ran from the lecture hall back home."

"And?" Sungho asks, arms crossed. "What happened?"

Taesan exhales, already regretting coming back at this hour. He steps around Jaehyun and kicks off his shoes, ignoring the way all five of them are watching him with increasing curiosity.

Jaehyun slowly sits up. "Hold on." His gaze sharpens as he studies him. "Something’s different."

"He looks happy," Woonhak squints. “Yah, Han Taesan what did you do?” 

Riwoo lets out a short laugh. "No way."

"No, no. It’s worse than that," Jaehyun says, pointing at him. "He looks in love." 

"Did you confess?" Sungho tilts his head.

The room goes still.

Taesan grips the hem of his hoodie, the hoodie he lent you, still faintly smelling like rain and your perfume. His jaw tightens, and he looks toward his bed, but the hesitation in his movements is enough of an answer.

"No way," Riwoo says, sitting up properly now.

"NO. WAY." Jaehyun’s repeats, shooting up onto his feet. He walks over to Taesan, gripping him by his shoulders.

"Oh, this is good," Leehan grins, propping himself up on his elbows to get a better view of what is happening. 

"And?" Sungho leans forward slightly. 

"Don’t and us! What did she say?" Jaehyun shouts, shaking Taesan back and forth. 

"She confessed too." Taesan sighs, pressing his fingers to his temple, pushing Jaehyun away to make him stop shaking him around. 

Jaehyun physically falls over onto the floor, clutching his chest like he’s just been shot.

"I knew it," Leehan claps his hands together, laughing.

"Took you long enough," Riwoo shakes his head.

"Really did," Sungho smirks.

"WHAT. YOU TWO. ACTUALLY. SAID IT?!" Woonhak jumps onto the bed, causing Riwoo and Leehan to look up at him, the bed shaking as he bounces from Riwoo’s bed to Taesan’s bed.

"So, does this mean you guys are dating now?" Woonhak stops jumping as he lands on Taesan’s bed, sitting down cross-legged on his bed. 

The room falls silent again.

"We… didn’t talk about that," Taesan mutters. A series of groans can be heard throughout the room. 

"Seriously?" Leehan blinks.

"Oh my god!" Jaehyun groans, throwing his hands in the air. “Of course he forgets to ask!” 

"What do you mean you didn’t talk about it?" Woonhak collapses against the bed dramatically. 

"It’s not that simple," Taesan scowls.

"It is that simple! You like her, she likes you! Boom. Dating," Jaehyun groans louder, dragging his hands down his face. Woonhak laughs loudly at the sight of his frustration. 

"At least you got this far," Sungho laughs, also finding the sight of Jaehyun’s frustration amusing. 

"I’m going to shower," Taesan mutters, “And then I’m going to bed. What are all of you even doing here?” 

“Woonhak wanted to drop by because he misses us sooo much.” Riwoo teases, “You know he always wants all six of us to hang out.” 

"But we’ll let you sleep. Sweet dreams, loverboy," Riwoo continues with a smirk, eyeing Taesan to see his reaction.

"Dream of your girlfriend," Jaehyun cackles, continuing Riwoo’s teasing. Taesan grabs the nearest pillow and launches it at his face. Jaehyun yelps as the pillow hits him, knocking over the bag of chips.

"You deserved that," Sungho bursts into laughter.

"He is so in love," Woonhak giggles, curling up at the edge of the bed.

Taesan scowls but doesn’t argue. For the first time in a long time, the noise in the dorm doesn’t bother him at all.

The next morning, you wake up with a mild headache. Rei, Liz, and Mayu had made a huge deal out of your confession, practically toasting to your emotional development like it was some kind of historical achievement. You’re pretty sure Rei even teared up at some point.

Your phone vibrates against the nightstand. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you reach for it.

Are you awake?

You blink at the screen. It’s a simple message, nothing unusual, yet your stomach still twists. After everything that happened yesterday he’s already texting you first thing in the morning?

barely. why?

There’s only a brief pause before his reply comes. 

Meet me outside.

right now?

Yeah

Heart pounding, you push off the blankets and scramble out of bed.

"Why are you up so early?" Rei mumbles, turning around to face you.

You hesitate before answering, "Taesan wants to meet."

That wakes her up instantly. She bolts upright, nearly knocking over her water bottle. "WHAT?"

"Keep your voice down!" you whisper, already pulling on a hoodie.

"What does he want?” 

"I don’t know," you say, hurriedly fixing your hair. "I’ll find out."

"Text me everything," Rei insists, but you’re already out the door.

Outside, Taesan is leaning against a lamppost, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. The morning air is crisp, and his hair is still slightly messy, like he barely ran a hand through it before coming out. When he sees you, he straightens slightly.

"You actually came," he says. His voice is soft, but still a little rough from sleep.

"You texted me before I was even fully conscious," you reply. "Of course I came."

His lips curve slightly into a smile. "You hungry?"

"Huh?"

"Breakfast," he says, glancing toward the path leading to campus. "Let’s get something."

It takes you a second to process. He didn’t just text you to talk, he wants to eat together. It’s such a simple thing, and yet warmth spreads through your chest before you can stop it.

"Yeah," you say, tucking your hands into your sleeves. "Okay."

He nods and starts walking, and you fall into step beside him.

The café near campus is quiet in the mornings, the kind of peaceful that makes you want to sit there for hours. You get something warm, hands curling around the cup as soon as it’s set down in front of you.

For a while, there’s only the sound of spoons clinking and the low hum of conversation. The silence between you isn’t awkward, but it is new. 

He’s the first to speak. "Did you tell your friends?"

You huff a laugh. "Oh, yeah. They lost their minds."

"Figured." He exhales, shaking his head slightly.

"What about you?" you ask. "Did you tell anyone?"

He stirs his coffee idly. "Woonhak and Jaehyun wouldn’t let me breathe until I did."

You grin, already picturing the equally dramatic response his friends would have. 

He doesn’t comment further, just takes a sip of his drink, but there’s something in his expression. His fingers drum against the cup before he finally says, "So, what now?"

Your breath catches. You look at him, and for once, he isn’t hiding behind sharp remarks or avoidance. He just watches you, waiting.

“I don’t know,” you admit.

Taesan is quiet for a moment, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup. Then he shifts, resting his arm on the table as he leans in slightly. His voice is steady, but there’s something careful about the way he speaks.

"Can I be your boyfriend?"

Your breath catches.

He says it plainly, without hesitation, but there’s something vulnerable in the way he watches you, waiting. He isn’t trying to be casual or detached, he’s just asking, straightforward and sincere.

A slow smile tugs at your lips. "Yeah."

"I'm glad," he says, voice quieter now. "I wanted to ask properly."

Your chest tightens, warmth spreading through you. "You did," you murmur.

Taesan holds your gaze for a moment longer before nodding, like he's committing this to memory. The two of you fall back into easy conversation, and for the first time in a long while, everything feels right.

It starts with the best of intentions.

You and Taesan claim a table in the library, notebooks and textbooks spread out between you. Your goal? To get through at least three chapters before taking a break. Taesan seems cooperative, flipping open his book without complaint.

For a while, everything is fine. You highlight important passages, take neat notes, and occasionally glance at Taesan to see if he’s actually working. He is. Sort of.

Then, after about twenty minutes, you feel his gaze lingering.

At first, you ignore it, assuming he’s just thinking about something. But when the silence stretches, you glance up. He’s not even pretending to read anymore. He’s just watching you, his chin propped on his hand.

You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” He tilts his head slightly. “You concentrate really hard.”

You blink, unsure whether he’s teasing or making an observation. “That’s kind of the point of studying.”

A hum of acknowledgment, but he doesn’t look away. Instead, he shifts closer, resting his arm on the table so that he’s leaning in. You try to go back to your notes, but it’s difficult when he’s practically in your space.

“Taesan,” you warn.

“Hm?” He’s still watching you, an almost amused look in his eyes.

You sigh, pressing your pen harder against the page. “Are you even paying attention?”

He smirks. “Not really.” Of course, he isn’t.

You roll your eyes and try to refocus, but now it’s impossible. The warmth of his presence, the subtle scent of his cologne, the way his voice dips when he’s teasing, it’s distracting in ways you don’t want to admit.

Taesan picks up his pen and lazily twirls it between his fingers. “You’re not paying attention either.”

You open your mouth to argue but realize you haven’t written anything in the past five minutes. Scowling, you nudge his arm. “This is your fault.”

“We’ve been here for almost an hour. Let’s take a break.” He chuckles, shifting back slightly. 

You shake your head, trying to suppress a smile. “You’re the worst study partner.”

“I’m not that bad,” he counters. “You’re still getting your work done.”

As the days go by, the changes in Taesan are subtle. It starts with small things, like when you’re walking through campus, and without thinking, his hand brushes against yours. At first, it’s barely a touch, but you both feel it.

You glance up at him, surprised, but Taesan doesn’t seem to notice the weight of the moment. His eyes are ahead, a little distant, but there’s a quiet satisfaction in the way his lips curl slightly. He doesn’t look at you right away, but you both know. 

The next time it happens is in the library. You’re sitting next to him, textbooks open in front of you, but your focus is on the way his knee gently bumps against yours. It’s almost too casual, like it’s nothing, but you can’t help but notice.

You look at him, trying to see if he’s noticed, but Taesan is absorbed in his notes, his brow furrowed in concentration. 

“Taesan,” you say softly, not entirely sure what you want to say.

He looks up, meeting your eyes. “Yeah?”

“You’re okay with this?” you ask. You don’t need him to explain everything, but you need to know that he’s not pulling away.

Taesan pauses, the moment stretching between you, before he leans back in his chair, his gaze shifting toward the window. “Yeah. I think I am.”

Later that evening, you’re walking back from dinner, and the breeze stirs your hair, sending it in every direction. You try to brush it away, but before you can, Taesan’s hand gently reaches up, tucking a stray strand behind your ear. His fingers linger for a beat longer than necessary, the touch warm and tender.

His voice is low, almost a whisper as he says, “You’re beautiful.”

The simplicity of it catches you off guard. Not the words, but the way he says them, like he believes them, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to admit. You stop for a moment, meeting his gaze, and see something you hadn’t noticed before, a vulnerability, soft and unguarded.

“Thank you,” you murmur, feeling the flush on your cheeks. You could say something in return, but for now, the silence between you feels just as perfect.

As you keep walking, his hand brushes against yours again, this time lingering a little longer. Neither of you pulls away, and for the first time in a long while, you realize that all the uncertainty, all the hesitation, has faded away.

Months pass, and the season shifts from spring to summer. The air is warmer now, and the campus feels different. It’s the perfect time for growth, and you find that, just like the season, everything between you and Taesan has changed and grown into something more comfortable, more secure.

You and Taesan have settled into a routine that feels effortless, the way two people who truly know each other function. Study sessions turn into late-night talks, quick coffee runs into quiet walks through the campus, side by side, hands brushing, fingers intertwining. 

Even the silences are comfortable now, filled with shared glances and understanding that needs no explanation.

One afternoon, after an impromptu study date in the library, you and Taesan head to a nearby park to unwind. The world around you feels distant, everything quiet except for the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze and the occasional laugh or shout from children playing nearby. It’s peaceful. Perfect, even.

Taesan's voice breaks the silence, casual but with a tenderness you’ve grown to love.

“You know,” he begins, his gaze on the horizon, “I was thinking about how we first started. All those misunderstandings, all that back and forth.”

You laugh softly, a fond smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, I remember. It feels like forever ago.”

He glances at you, his eyes soft, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t expect any of it. But I’m glad it happened this way.”

“I think I am too,” you reply, your heart warming at the moment. You can hear the sincerity in his voice.

You sit on the grass, facing each other, his knee brushing against yours. The space between you feels just right. You’ve both learned how to be vulnerable, to be present with each other. You’ve grown together, and it’s evident in the way you both respond to one another: thoughtful, patient, affectionate.

He leans back on his hands, looking at the sky, and then turns back to you, his expression a little more serious. “I’ve never really  done this before. This whole being with someone like this. It’s not something I was good at.” He smiles slightly, a bit shy. “But I’m figuring it out. With you.”

Your chest tightens from the overwhelming sense of gratitude and warmth that washes over you. You reach out, gently taking his hand in yours. “Me too. And we’re doing fine.”

A soft chuckle escapes his lips, and he squeezes your hand. “I think we’re doing more than fine.”

It’s true. You’ve both come to a place where the quiet moments like holding hands, sitting together in the park, sharing simple smiles, speak volumes. 

Later that evening, as the sun begins to set, casting a golden glow over the world, Taesan pulls you closer, his arm around your shoulders, and you lean against him. There’s no rush, no expectation to move faster or slower. It’s just the two of you, here, now, figuring things out as you go, but with a sense of certainty that wasn’t there before.

You don’t need to speak it aloud. What you have now is something solid, something real. And for the first time in a long time, you feel completely at peace.

As the evening wraps around you, the stars starting to twinkle in the sky, you know that whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

And that’s all that matters.

a/n : hi guys! ty for reading i had lots of fun writing this so i hope you enjoyed it too!!

taglist: @jungwonbropls, @enzstr, @bluecene @brownetry

bnd taglist: @ihruaz

[classypauli]

𝑫𝑶𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑹’𝑺 𝑻𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x fem!Reader

Summary: Tara´s asthma attack requires doctor´s treatment and having a hot doctor taking care of her is just a bonus, safe to say she likes the bonus better.

Word count: 2.5k

Tara was in her room, scrolling down on her phone having nothing to do. Her sister was somewhere in the house, getting ready to go out with her boyfriend. Tara sighed, she wasn��t jealous of her sister, she was glad Sam had someone to be by her side other than her. But in times like this Tara felt lonely. Chad was now on his practice and Mindy was having a date. So she was alone, lying in her dark room with the only noise of cars driving behind her closed window.

She stood up and went to the kitchen to grab some water. She needed to find some distraction, this wasn´t good for her mental health, rotting in the bed all day. Besides school, Sam and her friends she has nothing to do or talk to.

And she tried, she used to watch a lot of movies, especially the scary ones, and talk about them, analyze their plots and characters, acting, and cinematography. It was her element. But now it´s different, it brings her feeling and memories that aren´t right. Tara loved having nights out and watching horrors while eating popcorn sitting in her living room. But those thoughts only brought her to one of her ex-friends who betrayed her.

Tara´s chest started to rise and her throat became narrow as her breathing got only worse, she grabbed the bottle of water with shaking hands and started to drink it. This wasn´t her first time having asthma, she had it lots of times, Tara was familiar with it, but still, she couldn´t control it and it was scary.

„Hey I´m heading out-“ Sam came to the kitchen finding her sister leaning against the counter, eyes closed and her hands gripping onto the table. Her knuckles were white from how hard she was holding herself from falling.

„Tara“ she immediately came by her side, eyes wide, holding her sister so she wouldn´t fall, leading her into one of the chairs to sit her down. „It´s gonna be okay, don´t worry...“ she helped her sit and rushed out to her sister´s room for an inhaler.

Sam cursed under her breath, she looked everywhere for it but couldn´t find anything. Finally one was lying in her drawer, she picked it up and ran to the kitchen. Tara´s face was now white, her sternum was rising up and down in a fast way, tears running down her cheeks as her hand was holding onto her shirt.

„Shhh here, take it“ Tara grabs the inhaler with shaking hands almost not able to hold it. After the inhale Sam was expecting her sister to get better, to finally get some oxygen to her lungs. But nothing, Tara tried it again but with no change.

„Fuck“ Sam grabbed her phone from the pocket of her jeans and dialed Danny´s number.

„Hey you ready to go-?“

„Danny! I need your help!“ Sam shouted into her phone as she still was trying to calm down her sister. „Tara´s having an asthma attack!“ Her voice was breaking as she was getting more worried by each second. „Oh God okay okay! I-I´m going to be there in second!“

„Please hurry!“ Sam cancelled the phone call and her hands found their way to her sister´s cheeks. „Just breathe, you know how we do it every time.“ The older sister started to breathe with her, taking big inhales with her nose and exhaling with her mouth. Tara was repeating her sister´s action, looking into her scarred wide eyes.

Danny soon came and helped Sam with Tara into his car. Whole car ride, her breaths were the only thing Tara could hear, her head was spinning and her hands were gripping everything that was near. She was trembling and sniffing the whole ride. Thankfully the hospital wasn´t far and the traffic wasn´t as bad.

„Please! My sister has an asthma!“ Sam yelled as soon as they made their way into the building. Behind the reception table was a woman, she was sitting in her seat, phone in her ear having a conversation with someone. She only looked at them with no interest.

„Ma´am you need to wait-“ Sam cut her off before she could even finish her sentence.

„Are you kidding?! She´s having an asthma attack and you are telling us to wait?!“ a couple of nurses heard her yell and went to help.

„You must calm do-“ the woman tried again, Sam was so angry at the moment that if she wasn´t holding her sister she would jump across the table and beat her up. „I won´t calm down!“

One of the nurses immediately went to find a doctor and the other came by their side and helped them to go down the hallway of the hospital. Tara was now barely walking she was so tired from breathing and her head was spinning.

„Bring her here!“ Sam heard one of the doctors and was so happy that at least someone tried to help, she was so scared. „Okay let's put her here.“ The doctor was pointing at the bed and carefully was holding Tara´s body so she wouldn´t fall.

The nurse came to Sam´s side and started to gently pull her out of the room. „Ma´am please.“ She wanted to be by her sister´s side, she didn´t want to leave her here alone. Sam was afraid something would happen to her, she would never forgive herself. „She will be okay, I promise... There´s no need to worry, we just need you to wait outside.“ Sam nodded, if it meant that Tara would be okay then she would make this sacrifice.

In the room Tara was lying with her knees up leaning her back into the bed, her brain was barely processing what was happening. She just knew that Sam or Danny were no longer with her, which only created more anxiety. Someone was kneeling in front of her.

„Hi... I know how you feel right now and it can look absolutely scary but you won´t die don´t worry.“ The person was giving her some pills „I need you to take this... It will help. I promise.“ Tara took them and was now leaning again trying to calm down. Your voice was calming down her nerves, it was smooth she wanted to hear it again. As she looked up at the person, her heart almost stopped.

You were one of the hottest doctors she has ever seen in her life and she has seen them a lot. You looked so young to be a doctor, she couldn´t even guess your age. You were wearing a white coat with white pants, and around your neck was hanging a stethoscope. These were things she caught before her eyes made it to your face. Your eyes, softly looking at her, and your small smile that was greeting her eyes. In those white clothes, she almost felt like you were an angel.

„Good just slowly breathe in and out... There´s no need to rush.“ Tara kept looking at you shamelessly, not caring about how it may look, you were hot. She didn´t even notice that her breathing calmed down and now she was just sitting there looking at you.

„See! It´s already over.“ You smiled even wider at her, still kneeling in front of her looking up at her face looking for any change. Thankfully, Tara was now absolutely fine and it didn´t look like she would have an attack anytime soon. „Have you ever had an asthma attack before?“

„Yeah, this wasn´t the first time... I´ve been having it since I was a kid.“ She let out, almost whispering her answer as if she was embarrassed by it. „But this was the first time it went this far, usually the inhaler is enough.“

„Well sometimes attacks like this get triggered by situations the body is put into or thoughts, or it can come from nowhere... the symptoms of asthma are often nonspecific and can be precipitated by other disease processes... but based on your mimic and what the girl was yelling in the hallway I knew.“ You winked at her and stood up to go to your table.

„Asthma is a chronic inflammatory disorder arising from not fully understood heterogenic gene-environment interactions-“ 

Tara stopped to listen to you somewhere in the middle. She kept nodding her head as if she understood everything you were talking about. She didn´t understand one word that came out of your pretty lips.

„-features variable airway obstruction and bronchial hyperresponsiveness-“ God you were so hot when you talked like this. You looked too intelligent using all the medicine words that she could only dream about understanding.

„I gave you bronchodilators... it helps airways, or bronchi in the lungs to open and relax more.“ Tara kept looking at you from head to toe, you were tall and your body build was like a Greek god even under the doctor´s coat. You sat behind your desk and started looking for something, when you found it you smiled at her and went back by her side. 

The way you talked with your body language so confidently was sexy and she was trying so hard not to drool because of you. It got her thinking how old are you, you looked young to be a doctor, or maybe your genes were just good.

„Here... when it gets harder for you to breathe take this.“ You gave her an inhaler, she looked at your hand. Was there something about you that wasn´t attractive? Your hand was much bigger than hers and she could just imagine how her small hand would feel in yours. Tara slowly took it from your hand, making sure that she touched your smooth skin. „I know you have a lot of these at home but this one is a bit stronger.“

You smiled at her still keeping eye contact with your patient, looking for any sign of discomfort. „So I think you are ready to leave.“

Tara didn´t want to leave, she just wanted to look at you even if that meant you wouldn´t talk or pay attention to her, she could just stare at you and how you doing your work. A soft knock was heard on the door and a nurse came in. „Hey we are already done, can you please call the other girl inside?“ you asked her and she immediately went out to call Sam.

Sam rushed in, wide scared eyes looking for her sister. „Tara! Oh God... I was so scared.“ She hugged her, putting her chin on her head, pulling her away to kiss her on the forehead, her hands still on Tara´s side of her face. „Please don´t even scare me like that...“

You watched the whole interaction with a small smile visible on your face. Sam turned to you and thanked you for taking care of her younger sister.

„You don´t have to thank me... it´s my job.“

Sam helped Tara to get on her legs, slowly pulling her up, and holding her afraid that her legs would be too weak. You opened the door for them and they slowly walked outside of your room to the hallway.

„I´m so sorry for our receptionist this shouldn't be like this, I´ll take care of that, you can rely.“ You smiled at Sam and then Tara, winking at her again. The girl blushed at your action and looked down. Why was she so nervous around you? Her heart was beating and her body just wanted to reach out for yours.

„Take care! Hopefully, we won´t see each other under these circumstances again!“ you laughed and slowly started walking away down the hallway of the hospital. Tara now was looking at your back till she felt Sam´s arm tighten around her to hold her better.

She was now sitting in a car, looking out of the window, she wanted to see you again, so badly. She didn´t even know your name! Her mind was submerged by your face and your body, the way you smiled at her and talked to her, you were paying attention to her, and that made her so special. Being around you felt so different, like a fresh air in her life, even when she was with you only a couple of seconds.

When Mindy and Chad found out what happened they came to the Carpenter´s house. Everyone stayed by Tara´s side the whole day, talking, joking around, laughing, watching movies... and Tara still couldn´t stop thinking about her hot doctor.

„You are more quiet than usual, care to share?“ Mindy sits beside her on the couch looking at Tara. The girl only let out a sigh and looked back at her friend.

„Mindy... that doctor... was so hot.“ She threw her head back and closed her eyes. Mindy laughed at her and punched her thigh slightly.

„Don´t tell me you have a crush on some old fart.“

Tara turned her head to her lowering her eyebrows at her as she shook her head. „She wasn´t old, she looked really young! Almost our age!“

Mindy looked confused at her, most of the doctors were old, or at least around forty. Either you looked young or you were a young medic. They wanted to find you somewhere on social media but Tara didn´t even know your first name, so they went to the official page of the hospital and started looking at the personnel working there but they didn´t find anything.

Until they came across the photo of the all hospital workers, doctors, and nurses smiling at the camera. There was you, besides the nurse that was with you today and some other doctor, wide smile across your face.

„Damn! You are right she looks hot!“ Mindy moved her eyebrows up and down in a teasing motion, zooming the photo at you. „You got lucky Tara...“ she whispered looking at the photo. Tara snatched the phone from her hands and held it by her side in a protective way.

„I found her first! Find your doctor!“ Tara yelled at her friend but she only put her hands up.

„No need to be defensive, I won´t take her away from you.“

„You better.“ Tara mumbled, looking at her phone again, making a small pout with her lower lip. You caught her attention instantly, everything about you was mesmerizing. Tara only hoped that you would meet again. She was thinking about all the ways how to end up in the hospital... in your doctor´s bed. Or maybe even your own.

„Well getting treatment from a young doctor is definitely a jackpot.“ Mindy commented and laughed at her friend. „And even HOT doctor! That sounds like a big bonus to me.“

Yeah, Tara liked the bonus much better.