#there was a fun moment where i managed to get stuck somewhere and my friend immediately put on the mask

[bluefuecoco]

i loked content warning so much that i bought copies of lethal company for me and my friends, and that shit was a blast oh ny god.

I think my favorite moment is when you're separated and you die, and you find out someone else has alread died and yall are just sitting there like "How did you die?!" and laughing over it

or when you die and you go to spectate and your friends who already got back to the ship are talking shit about you

[petrichor-idyllic]

Hiii I wanna make a request :)

SPOILERS FOR THE BOOKS AHEAD

So it takes place in the Berg where the Gladers were "stuck" in "The Death Cure". It was right after the last meeting with Newt on the Crank Palace and after that Minho wasn't okay at all. Female reader was also not good but Minho knew Newt a lot more so reader comforts Minho who is kinda off and doesn't speak to anyone and wants to let it all out but wants to be strong etc. If it's possible to end with a little spice I would very much like that :). Thank youuuu

Ooo a book request, huh? It's been a while since I've actually read TDC but I'm pretty sure I can remember what you're on about. I've also briefly skim-read a couple of necessary chapters to prepare myself which is why this took a little longer.

AFTER THE CALM

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. All book content. Slightly implied morally grey reader.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, some depressing themes and no Newt, spice, my incredibly vague knowledge of the book 'cause I read it like 8 years ago. I remember nothing about the layout of the Berg in the books apart from what I vaguely read for this piece. I'm making this shit up. Also references to Brenda and Thomas getting tied up at that party during TST.

You don't even want to think about it. None of you did. Thomas had said that Newt was acting weird, and you all knew why.

Newt isn't immune. He never has been. He was sent into the Maze as a control variable, and he'd decided to spend the remainder of his sanity in the Crank Palace.

He's gone. Someone you've been with on this insane journey and spent some incredibly important moments with- and you're probably never going to see him again

Brenda and Jorge had settled in the cockpit of the Berg whilst you'd left Thomas and Minho to talk in private. They'd both know Newt a lot longer than you- Minho longest of all.

You're not really part of either party. You're a stranger that they found during their travels through the Scorch. To everyone's surprise, you revealed you were immune when you showed some old teeth-marks from a Crank; making you one of the few Munies that WICKED didn't manage to gather up.

You were a thief and a con artist, smuggling goods and providing drugs that you stole into infected places. It was a dangerous job, but one you did willingly. So, imagine your shock when you find two hung-over teenagers tied up in a room with one of your regular buyers.

After sitting in for Thomas' explanation and hearing all the shit to do with WICKED, you lend them a helping hand and have been a regular member of the group ever since.

It was almost fun at first. The whole group looked up to you and thought you were some badass powerhouse.

But now it all feels very real. You sit on the floor, the faint hum of the Berg sending vibrations through your skull as you rest your head against the wall. You often hid in a corner, somewhere, choosing to not be a part of the rage-filled political debates that take place. You're a sort of middle ground between the ex-WICKED personnel and the torture victims. It's a weird dynamic, to be sure.

You watch from the safety of your spot as Brenda speaks to the boys, saying something that clearly triggers Minho as he storms off, slamming the door to one of the sleeping quarters. You cringe as the action shakes the whole ship.

"Sorry," you tune into the conversation, hearing Brenda's anxious words.

"It's okay," Thomas shrugs, "He was with Newt for two years before I showed up in the Maze. It'll take him some time."

You'd always known Newt and Minho were close- easily the closest out of the group. You're not exactly a genius, but you don't last as long as you have, doing what you do, if you can't read people.

You consider Minho your friend. You don't consider many people your friend, and you still have your suspicions about Brenda and Jorge, and you're on edge every time Thomas's face drops whenever Teresa is mentioned. You're not a trusting person, but you do enjoy Minho's company.

He's witty and sarcastic, easily matching your dry humour. There's been many of times you've exchanged smirks and knowing glances during some, actually, quite serious conversations. You have similar opinions, and despite your tendency to play devil's advocate, you do appreciate having a more forward guy on your side.

Minho wears his heart on his sleeve and is more than willing to kick the shit out of someone to protect what he loves.

Not to mention, you'd be lying if you didn't find the boy attractive. It's not like there are many people out in the world that you deal with that won't eventually rip your face off with their bare teeth. So, Minho is basically a God in comparison to your last couple of flings before they started frothing at the mouth.

Brenda says something about making some food, earning some agreeing mutters from Jorge as she leaves Thomas alone, probably to process the day's events himself.

I'm a Crank!

Newt's words ring in your head. Apart from your parents, you've never been close with anyone that's gotten infected- always moving from one gig to the next and never really getting attached. So, when Newt started showing symptoms, things cracked pretty fast.

The way he was waving that Launcher at you all, wildness forming in his eyes and the screaming at you to leave. Thomas, unfortunately, was right to force you all to leave. It was becoming dangerous.

Minho didn't fight. He barely even argued. Thomas dragged him and Brenda away, grabbing whoever was closest to him. You stayed behind Jorge, preparing to be at the back of the group since you're probably the one with the most experience regarding Cranks.

You weren't prepared for Newt to speak.

"(Y/N)," you froze, glancing back over your shoulder to meet the wild eyes of the once level-headed blond boy.

"What is it, Newt?" Your voice was barely a whisper as you turned to face him. Your lack of presence wouldn't go unnoticed by the rest of the group, but you didn't know why he'd chosen to speak to you. "I thought you wanted us to leave?"

"I did- I do," your eyes never left the gun that he held in his hands, his finger never fully leaving the trigger. "Look after him, please."

"Thomas can take care of himself," you'd assumed he was talking about Thomas, after all, he'd dramatically given Thomas a note, and they all seemed to look out for the reckless boy.

"No, not Tommy," Newt almost scoffed, a moment of clarity taking over. "Minho." You furrowed your brow, "He needs someone to look after him, and I ain't gonna be there to do that anymore."

"Newt, c'mon-"

"Stay. Please, stay with them. This isn't just another job you're doing for fun anymore- this is their lives. It's Minho's life. Look after him. For me, please, take care of him. Please."

Newt had seen right through you. You never really intended on staying. Sure, you'd thought about it, especially when the boys spoke about the perfect lives they'd had when this was all over. But you never planned to be a part of that. Not really.

You'd never known anything other than the adrenaline-filled smuggling life that you had, and some part of you wasn't ready to find out who you are when you're not risking your life. You just wanted to help these guys, because people like them deserving helping. Because they deserve to be happy.

But you?

You don't know about that. Surviving after the Solar Flares requires thick skin and a strong stomach. And you have to be willing to do so inhumane things. All of which you have.

So, the plan was to keep moving, even if there is a Safe Heaven. Do you really deserve to be there?

But now, you're not so sure. For all you knew, Newt's dying wish was for you to protect and stay with his friend. And who were you to ignore a dead man's wishes?

The thoughts churn over in your skull until you finally bring yourself to stand up again. You can't leave Minho alone now. If you did, then you'd be ignoring Newt, not even a couple of hours after your last interaction.

Time feels weird, but you know he's not come out of the room in about half an hour.

You pull yourself in front of the room where Minho's hiding, knuckles rhythmically tapping against the door.

"Shuck off," his voice is wavering and scratchy, like he's trying not to cry. "I've had enough klunk for today, and I don't wanna talk anymore, alright, slinthead?"

"Wow, now I'm sure that might work on Thomas here, but you know me better than that." You force a playful tone into your voice. You'd never been good with serious conversations- if a job got too tense, you'd normally just dip and run. But that's not exactly going to work here.

And, for the first time ever, you don't really want to.

It takes a couple of seconds, but you hear movement, and Minho pulls the door open. You send him a sympathetic smile, and he pushes his lips into a thin line, sighing.

"Hi," he scoffs slightly a this as you try to push a more joyful pitch.

"Hey," he responds, though his voice is heavy. His eyes flicker over to behind you, where Thomas is sat on the sofa in the common area. You follow his gaze, and Thomas immediately looks away, doing a terrible job of hiding his eavesdropping. "What do you want?"

"To talk to you? Obviously." You rock on your heels, hands in your pockets as you look up at the taller boy. Minho doesn't respond, he just kind of looks at you. "C'mon, man, I'm just tryna help."

He gives in, sighing.

Minho nods in the direction of the room, stepping aside and letting you walk in. It wasn't exactly unusual for the pair of you to sit together or talk away from the rest of the group. But that didn't stop Brenda, Thomas, and Jorge from nudging each other and snickering whenever it happened. Even Newt used to join on occasionally.

Minho shuts the door behind him, wordlessly slippingly past you and flopping backwards onto one of the beds in the room he's sharing with Thomas. His hands cover his face, so you can't read his expression.

"You okay?" You know it's a dumb question, but you're not sure how else to approach.

"What do you think?" You sit next to his legs, which are still hanging off of the bed.

"Yeah, that's fair." He scoffs again, and he goes quiet. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Minho," you try to get his attention, but he doesn't even move. "You can talk to me, man." Again, nothing. You nudge his leg and he moves his hands away from his face. "Come on. You're just gonna feel even more shit if you keep it to yourself."

"I ain't no sissy." You almost laugh at this. Sometimes, you forget that being stuck with a bunch of boys for two years probably wasn't great for anyone's perception of masculinity.

"I never said you were, dumbass- you're a person. People feel things. That doesn't make you a pussy- or a sissy, or whatever weird fuckin' word you Glader freaks use. It just makes you human," you pause as he watches you, some form of relief washing over him, "and there ain't nothin' wrong with that."

"I just..." Minho trails off, his voice catching in his throat as he sits up. "I can't believe he's gone." He leans forward, hunched over as he looks at the floor, arms resting on his spread legs. "We went through all that just for him to tell us to leave."

"I know, but he's probably doing what he thinks is best," Minho looks at you from the corner of his eyes.

He doesn't agree with you. Of course, he doesn't. You guys have completely different life experiences. But he appreciates it. He appreciates you. You're a guide through the world as it is, and despite Brenda and Jorge's help, you have connections and street smarts like no other.

Not to mention you're hot. Like, Minho spends his nights fantasising about you kind of hot. Not just your appearance, but your take-no-shit attitude. You're not scared to fight with him, and for some reason, he's into that.

"He's my best friend, dude- I've known him for literally as long as I can remember! And he thinks he can just leave some klunky note and vanish to hang out with those psychos? And when we go to get him, he threatens to shoot us? And, obviously, I don't mean klunk to him 'cause all he cares about is good ol' 'Tommy'."

You know it cuts deep from how Minho is mocking the cherished nickname.

"After everything we went through- and he just- we- shit." His voice breaks as his face drops to his hands.

"Hey," your voice is soft and low as Minho sniffs, the events of the day, and his entire life, finally catching up to him. "Hey, it's okay." You shuffle closer, lightly placing your hand against the small of his back and rubbing delicate circles. You rest your head on his shoulder, looking up at him as he pulls his hand away.

You look at each other for a second.

He sighs, "Shuck it." Throwing his arms around you, he knocks you back slightly. It only takes a second for you to recover as you accept the hug, allowing him to find comfort in your warmth as you let him cry into the crook of your neck.

You play with his hair, mumbling sweet nothings to him as he calms himself down. You press your lips to his forehead, giving him another source of affection in an attempt to make him feel better the best you can.

He pulls away. His tear-stained cheeks and messy hair are something that you'd never expected to see. "God, this is shuckin' embarrassing."

"Hey," you wipe away some of the liquid from his cheeks with your sleeve, "no it's not, okay? This is some heavy shit, dude, I ain't judging you. Here." You run your fingers through his hair, trying to fix the state of his appearance.

You're too busy trying to fix him to notice how he's looking at you. His eyes have fallen on your lips, admiring your features like he's never even laid his eyes on another woman. You're so close, and he's so used to your lethal nature, and you're now being so nice to him and he doesn't know how to react.

He doesn't care anymore. He's lost another thing he cares about and he just wants to feel okay.

"Minho, are you-?" You don't get to finish because his lips are on yours. Your entire body freezes, eyes wide as you sit there in some form of shock.

Minho pulls away as you attempt to process what just happened. "Shuck, sorry," he mumbles upon seeing your almost blank reactions. "I just- it's just... today has been a lot. A-and you're- I don't know, really. I think I like you, but I've never liked anyone like that before so, I don't- shit. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore." He drops his head again, returning to his original position.

A small smile has crept onto your face, but you're not about to make things worse by taking advantage of Minho's vulnerable state.

"Minho?"

"Yeah?"

"I like you too."

His head perks up, "You do?"

"Yeah, but, I think you've also had a pretty shitty day and I don't want to do anything you're going to regret. I don't want you just acting like this because you want another way to cope."

Minho blinks at you. He doesn't know why he's shocked at this level of common sense, because it's one of the reasons he likes you.

"I've literally been crushing on you ever since you showed up with Thomas and Brenda," his tone is blunt and almost hollow as he's finally getting another thing off of his chest. "I fall asleep thinking about a life with you, and I get where you're coming from, but I want you."

Your chest feels tight, and you shift uncomfortably, trying to control yourself and the heat forming in you. He notices this.

"You want me?" You subconsciously lean forward, almost like two magnets pulling together.

"Yeah, I want you now, the same way I've always wanted you." His words make you feel some type of way. It's not like you've never been with anyone, but you've never had feelings for them. Not really.

Not like this.

"I just want to feel okay, and you help me."

Despite what you just said, you push your lips against his again. He lets out a nervous breath, and goosebumps cover his skin. He lets you take the lead, allowing you to show him how to move his lips. You have a lot more experience than he does, so he's not going to challenge that.

You pull yourself onto his lap, making him hum into your mouth, his hands immediately coming to your waist. Your tongue brushes against his bottom lip and he releases a groan as you take it between your teeth, lightly pulling on it.

You push him back, reconnecting your mouths as his thumbs rub your skin under your shirt. He dares to be bold, slipping them further under as his hands glide against your back. When you buck your hips against him, he digs his nails in.

You hiss, the sting being surprisingly pleasurable, which just eggs Minho on more. He thrusts up, getting more riled up and needing more friction to calm the hungar building up in him.

You move from his lips to his jaw, causing his eyes to flutter shut whilst you move further down, letting your tongue brush against the sensitive skin of his throat. You're almost experimenting; seeing what kind of responses you can get out of him. You move to his ear instead, dragging it up the side before pulling on his lobe with your teeth. You can help but smirk as the action makes the normally unwavering Runner shiver and grab at the flesh on your hips, his hands returning with a sudden jump.

You slow your grind, quickly gaining a rhythm and providing you both with a relief, even with all of your clothes still intact.

"Ah, fuck," your hand flies to Minho's mouth, flashing him a warning look. The Berg might be loud, but the walls are thin, and the soft hum won't drown out anything if he's that loud. "Sorry," he mumbles, leaning up to kiss you again.

You pull away pretty quickly, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, and he takes the hint. Struggling and half sitting up, he pulls the shirt over his head. It's enough to make you try to squeeze your legs together as you gingerly run your fingers down his abs. His breathing hitches as your hand travels lower, one arm flopping over his face, using his forearm to try and hide.

You fiddle with his belt, watching his chest rise and fall, the clicking of the metal coming undone is like music to his ears.

"Hey, is everything okay? I thought I heard-"

Thomas stands blankly in the doorway. Everyone in the room freezes. Thomas stares at the scene in front of him, trying to process what exactly is going on.

You're straddling a shirtless Minho, who is very visibly aching for more. Thomas immediately starts to change colour to a deep shade of red.

"Dude!" Minho snaps, "Don't you know how to shuckin' knock?"

You snort, climbing off of Minho's lap, clearly not nearly as embarrassed as your partner. He raises slightly, leaning back on his arms for support as he shoots daggers at his friend.

"Sorry- I didn't realise that- I just heard something-" Thomas seems somehow even more flustered and freaked out than Minho. "Brenda's made us sandwiches." He sighs, and you laugh, your legs hanging off of the bed.

"Bro, get out!" Minho snaps and Thomas seems to return to reality.

"Sorry! Sorry!" The door slams behind him and you burst out laughing.

"You guys are something else," you shake your head, and smile at Minho, who simply scoffs. "You feeling any better?" The atmosphere changes, becoming more serious once again.

"Honestly, not really," you push your lips together as Minho pulls his shirt back on, sitting up properly, "but I know that I'm going to be- some day, 'cause you're gonna stick around, right?"

You pause. Even if Newt didn't say anything, how could you possibly even consider leaving Minho? Maybe your feelings are stronger than you originally thought.

"Yeah," you lean forward, pecking him on his lips, making him smile, "I'm not going anywhere."

Wooooo, this one was actually pretty fun to write and I enjoyed writing for something outside of the Glade. It makes a nice change and I love these types of more specific requests.

Requests are still open, I hope you enjoyed :))

[drabbles-mc]

Losing It

Steve Harrington x F!Reader

Whumptober 2022: No.13 Can’t Make An Omelette Without Breaking A Few Legs- Dislocation

Combined with this request from @espieviolet99​​:  What if they have a sweet moment where reader is like, "I know you still love Nancy, but I kinda like you" and he doesn't quite act on it until they're stuck in the upside down after the bat fight.

Warnings: angst (with a hopeful ending), injury, canon-typical violence, language, no use of “y/n”

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: This is my first ever Steve fic! It was definitely fun to take on a new character from the series. Hope y’all enjoy! (Also just a reminder that my requests are still closed. This is an old request that just so happened to line up with the Whumptober prompt of the day.

Stranger Things Taglist: @garbinge​ @thatpunkmaximoff​ @winchestershiresauce​ @xbunnysbrainx​ @bigcreatorwombatdreamer​ @lmili​ (If you want to be added to the taglist, please let me know!)

Your mind was going at a million miles a minute as everyone started piling into the tiny little boat. The sounds of Dustin’s complaining was drowned out by your own thoughts and the blood rushing in your ears. Even though you weren’t really listening to what anyone was saying, your body was still going through the motions. Outwardly, you seemed fine except for the extra jitters.

Your thoughts were split in two, one half of them trying to think of every possible outcome for what was about to happen, what would be unfolding over the next few days. The other half was ruminating on the hushed conversation that you’d had with Steve the night before.

You still found it hard to believe that you’d told him how you felt about it. The words had come tumbling out before you even knew what was happening. You didn’t really know where it came from. But looking back on it, in the wake of everything that you both were facing, confessing your feelings seemed like the least of your problems. The possibility of facing imminent death at any moment over the next few days made everything else seem so…small.

And he had handled it well. Probably better than you would have if you had been in his position. You weren’t an idiot—you knew that there was still something there between him and Nancy. You weren’t quite sure what was happening there anymore, but you could see the way that they looked at each other sometimes when they were talking. It sucked, and you didn’t know what you expected to get out of it other than getting it off of your chest. Maybe that would be enough.

“You okay?” Steve’s voice snapped you back to the present.

Your eyes widened for a moment, fighting the urge to shake your head in an attempt to physically dispel the thoughts. You cleared your throat as you set your hand on top of his and allowed him to help you into the boat.

“I’m good, yea.”

He watched you wobble slightly as you took a seat. “You sure?”

You nodded. “Positive.”

He didn’t press it, but you could feel the way that his eyes lingered on you for a little while longer than they normally would. Sure, he handled the news well, probably had a lot to do with all of the bigger fish you and your friends had to fry. But it clearly was still somewhere on his mind. You wanted to be happy about it, but you knew better than to get your hopes up.

“That’s way more than three people,” Dustin called after you all as he rolled his eyes.

Steve held his hands out, feigning helplessness. “Sorry!”

You chuckled quietly at that. You did appreciate that no matter how dire the circumstances got, someone in your little rag-tag group of friends managed to keep their sense of humor about them. It wasn’t always Steve, but it was always someone. It was the only thing that kept all of you from going absolutely insane with everything that was going on.

Eddie and Robin somehow ended up being the ones who were rowing. It was a little comical to watch them, to be honest. But they got the job done.  When it was just the group of you out in the center of the lake, there was a moment when you all had to really start talking about what it was that you were going to be doing. If Dustin was right, things could get really messy really fast. But also, none of you could just say that you went all the way out there and then did nothing.

Before anyone could try to come up with a different plan, Steve stood up and started peeling off his clothes. Everyone’s eyes got a little wider, but it was Eddie who finally spoke up. “What’s…what’s going on there?”

“What, any of you have a better plan?” he rattled off all the things that made him the most qualified person to be doing this. No one was really arguing with him at that point, but he was still justifying himself even as Eddie handed him the flashlight wrapped up in a plastic bag.

The minute that he was underwater felt like the longest minute of your life. Everyone was looking at each other, looking at you, but your eyes were trained on the lake in front of you. A few scarce bubbles made it to the surface here and there, but nothing signaling the return of Steve. Each second that went by made your stomach tie into a tighter and tighter knot.

But then he broke the surface. It felt like each deep breath that he was sucking in, you were taking too. He leaned against the side of the boat, arms draped over the side of it. He was trying his best to gush about what he’d seen down there as he fought to catch his breath.

He was halfway through his sentence when he got dragged back underneath the water. Everyone was screaming, scared, unsure of what to do. After a few seconds, though, you and Nancy were both jumping over the side of the boat and diving down after him. Your vision underneath the water wasn’t the best, but you could see enough to see him getting dragged towards the bottom, a slew of bubbles streaming out of him, most likely containing the screams that he was attempting to let out.

For the second time within the same few minutes, your body was acting independently from your mind. Everything in your brain felt like it was short-circuiting as you looked at the place where Steve was being dragged to. The crack running along the bottom of the lake almost looked like it was alive. Your body kept swimming, kept carrying you towards it, but you didn’t even feel yourself doing it.

When you all came crashing down on the other side, all three of you were gasping for air. However, you quickly noticed that Steve was gasping a little harder than either you or Nancy. Your eyes nearly popped out of your skull when you saw the way that he was fighting against the bat that had wrapped it’s tail so tightly around his neck.

Both of you were scrambling to your feet and trying to get over to him, not quite knowing how you’d landed so far from him. You were almost to him when Robin and Eddie came crashing down on top of you, sending all of you to the ground in a heap of grunts and groans and cusswords.

You were the first one back on your feet, grabbing the oar on the way as you charged towards Steve. Your heart was pounding inside your chest and it was from more than just the running. You saw the way that he was desperately trying to pull at the bat tail around his neck, and you also saw the way that more bats descended upon him, biting at him to try and stop him. He tried to fight through it, but then you saw another bat wrap its tail around his arm and quickly fly away.

The choked scream that he let out was subdued only because of the way the first bat was crushing his windpipe. Tears were staining your cheeks before you could stop them. But the scream you let out as you smacked at the bats that were descending upon him was cathartic. You were swinging away, trying to get any and all of them off of him. It only took a few more seconds for everyone else to be at your back trying to help you along in the process.

The frantic look in Steve’s eyes nearly took you out. You and Nancy were tag-teaming in an attempt to get the bat off from around Steve’s neck. One she pinned it, you were finally able to drop down to your knees and peel it away. Even before you had freed him completely, he was coughing and sputtering as air finally made it to his lungs.

Once he was finally free, and you had all successfully scared off the rest of the bats, everyone fell back onto their heels a little bit. Steve was still splayed out across the ground, bleeding and trying to catch his breath. Robin and Eddie were tossing their oars aside, chests heaving as they exchanged looks of disbelief. You were still knelt on the ground beside Steve, looking back and forth between him and Nancy, who was looking everyone over to make sure that no one else had taken any serious damage.

You got yourself back up to a standing position, brushing your hands off on your pants once you did, not that it did any good. You were all disgusting at that point. Turning back to Steve, you held your hand out for him to take. He went to reach up with his one arm, but immediately winced and bailed on it, using his other arm to pin it closer to his side.

“Shit,” he cursed, cringing in pain as his eyes shut.

“What happened?” you crouched lower again to be eye-level with him.

“I think those bats dislocated my shoulder.” He tried to move his arm again, only to be punished with another searing shot of pain. He cursed again, immediately regretting the decision.

“I can pop it back in,” you offered before thinking twice about it.

“What?” all three of them spoke simultaneously as they looked at you.

You hesitated for a moment before repeating yourself. “I…I can put your shoulder back in place.”

“You know how to do that?” Eddie asked, shocked.

“…yes?”

Steve’s eyes searched yours for a few moments, trying to gauge how much confidence you had in what you were saying. When your eye contact didn’t waver, he gave in with a nod. “Okay, alright, yea. Can’t get any worse, right?”

You let out a tired chuckle. “Let’s not jinx it.” You reached forward, gently feeling out his arm and shoulder. You felt bad that it was causing him pain, but you also knew that it was going to get worse before it got better. You waited for him to look at you again. “It’s gonna hurt like a bitch, you know.”

He exhaled sharply, “Because everything else has felt great so far.”

You smiled weakly. “That’s true.” Pausing, you got both him and yourself situated so that you could get him back into place. “Ready?”

He nodded, jaw clenched tight in anticipation. “Let’s get it over with.”

You popped his shoulder back into place with relative ease, although judging by the look on his face and the sound of pain he let out, no one else ever would’ve thought that. Eddie, Nancy, and Robin were all cringing and trying to look away but not quite being able to. They didn’t want to look at Steve while he was in that much pain but there were also all so curious about what you were doing. Of all the problems they’d ever had to solve, that hadn’t been one of them.

After giving him a few minutes to catch his breath and recover from the jolt of having his shoulder put back in place, Steve finally got to his feet and you all set off together, off to figure out what was next for any of you.

The whole crew of you were deep in the woods now. Eddie and Robin were wandering far ahead, and even though Nancy was walking with them and giving you and Steve a few minutes together, every now and then she’d still turn and look over her shoulder at the two of you. You didn’t quite know what the look on her face meant, but you could venture a guess.

Like he was reading your mind, Steve said, “It’s not what you think.”

“Hm?” Confusion was all over your face.

He kept his voice somewhat quiet as he spoke. “Me and Nancy. It’s…it’s not whatever you think it is.”

“What do I think it is?”

“I don’t love her.” His brows furrowed as he realized how harsh that sounded. “Not like that,” he clarified. “She’s one of my best friends. We’ve almost died together on numerous occasions,” he chuckled half-heartedly, “but it’s not like what it…what it used to be.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know what else to say.

“I didn’t really know what to say to you yesterday,” he confessed, not quite able to look you in the eye. “I wasn’t expecting it. And with so much going on I just—”

“I get it,” you cut him off, not wanting to force either of you through him gently trying to reject you, “it’s not a priority. You don’t have to—”

“Wait,” he chuckled, “let me finish what I was saying.” He paused, and when you didn’t say anything, he continued, “I wasn’t expecting it because of all the Eddie-Vecna-Max stuff that we’ve been dealing with. My brain didn’t even really catch up until it was too late. And by then you’d already, you know, you’d already brought up the Nancy stuff and it was too late to correct you. Honestly thought it might be a little tone-deaf to correct you at that point because we were trying to come up with ways to make sure that none of us die.”

You had to laugh at that. “Yea, that…that makes sense.”

“And for what it’s worth, if I thought you were great before, that battle cry you let out earlier really sealed the deal.”

You rolled your eyes but you felt your cheeks getting hot. “Shut up. You were dying.”

“It was still pretty cool,” he said in a sing-songy tone.

“I’ll pop that shoulder right back out again, you know,” you joked.

“Oh, trust me, we are going to be talking about that when this is all over.” He smiled over at you, but you saw it soften a bit after a moment.

“When this is all over?”

“Yea,” he nodded, “can’t stay in the Upside Down forever, right?”

You sucked in a deep breath, “Let’s hope not.”

His gaze dropped down to the ground. “And, when all of this is over…I was wondering if maybe I could take you out sometime?”

Your heart fluttered inside your chest, a tiny ray of light in the midst of all the darkness that you’d all been drowning in lately. “I’d…I’d like that. Yea. You know,” you laughed half-heartedly, “if there’s still an out to go to after all of this.”

“We could always come back down here,” he bumped his good shoulder against your own.

“You just wanna hear me lose my shit again, don’t you?”

He smiled at you. “Little bit, yea.”

“Well,” you slipped your hand into his, “let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Yea,” he squeezed your hand, “let’s hope.”

[mitochondriencocktail]

You still doing these? Because

And You Can Have It All:

For 50-somethings: 8

For warriors: 25 (what would be home for them😭😭)

And 30 for both!

I LOVE YOU FOR ASKING ABOUT THIS AU

8. Do they have any favorite activities to do together? (mid-50s Bookclub AU)

(I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE FOR THE LORE DUMP and I'm counting this as 30. Free space! Say something about this ship that you want to say! also because I basically wrote a plot summary...)

Ok so this snippet of a universe was a briefly planned AU I had where Bojan is a divorcee who joins a book club upon Martin's insistence, and ends up meeting Jere. Cue: a guy in his mid-50s with two kids grappling with his sexuality suddenly and, because he's older and divorced, he's actually surprisingly pretty chill about it? Well, as chill as any version of Bojan could be. He still panics a bit and appreciates Jere's patience, but he is head over heeeels with this Jere.

He remembers suddenly what it's like to fall in love except this feels like even more because it's all clicking for him now. The pieces of himself in his marriage that, no matter how hard he tried, how much he loved his ex, just never felt like they slotted in correctly.

And this Jere is someone who's dated a bit, fallen in love, but found that nothing really stuck around for too long. He traveled to London for music and focused so much on his career, that his romantic life was neglected for most of his life. Only now, older and settled in, the music thing unfortunately not working out for him (and Bojan too, that's how they actually initially bond), he starts opening himself up to the possibility of a real, lasting relationship.

BUT to answer your question, they love going hiking together. Taking in the views, still being active. They're definitely one of those couples that are like, "We're not slowing down until we're forced to!" Lots of couples cooking classes (Bojan Tries), dinner dates, getting frisky in an empty movie theater at first to "make up for lost time."

But once that initial frenzy calms, they settle in. They still do the occasional big fun outing, go to sports games, check out a museum, etc, but they do what they did upon first meeting in that book club: read together :)

25. What is their dream home? Do they buy a place together? Who plans the decorations and who does the heavy lifting? (Warriors AU, also counting this as 30. Free space! Say something about this ship that you want to say!)

OUGH my heart. So, yeah, this was the tragedy universe for them. It wasn't super fleshed out, but let's see what happens as I keep typing.

For them, I pictured a world where they literally could not be together due to the political set-up. What that was exactly, kinda murky because if I ever delve into fantasy politics, I'm someone who'd want them to make sense ;o; But perhaps two warring factions, a dispute over kingdoms and resources with lots of tangled societal consequences. Bojan and Jere having met by fate, enemies to friends to lovers, and stolen what little time they could together, but ultimately duty-bound to their lands lest they accidentally reveal too much and endanger the other. Dying by each other's hands not as enemies, but as means to live eternally with one another.

HOWEVER, if they did live happily, having survived running off and managing to not be found, I think they'd do their best with whatever meager cottage they can find. Somewhere secluded, perhaps by a coast, since they both love to be near the water. Back in those stolen, happy moments, they'd jokingly (but also heartbreakingly) talk about how they'd have a nice garden, filled with flowers and vegetables, but then one of them would point out that coastal homes are often rocky where they are -- shattering the illusion, the daydream.

Bojan would love to adorn the house with trinkets and baubles, some just for sentiment, others for superstitious reasons. Jere would bring in seashells and glass from along the shore. They'd work equally here, I think, if only because it's their dream that they share together in equal parts.

THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVED THIS ASK <3

[cluelessbees]

I sadly do not have any presentable wips for today could I interest y'all in part 2 of the Dash and Lily post I made the other day--

***

Blue,

You’re sticking with Notebook Boy? You really are stubborn. But okay, Notebook Boy it is.

I have to warn you. I don’t think I’m as mysterious as you want me to be. The air of mystery really is just the notebook talking. I’m fairly boring otherwise. 

But to answer your question.

I think my music taste also varies but- I really like rock a lot. My brother is where I get my music taste from. He would give me a bunch of mixtapes that he’d make and the music was always so— different and the sound was so addictive. 

I think my favourite song right now is Boys Don’t Cry by The Cure, have you heard it? 

Also, I have to say, your friend makes great music. 

When I first got to the venue I really thought I was like- this weird…outsider. Like- I don’t know….like I didn’t really fit into the crowd there? And I want to pretend like it went away quickly as it came, but it stuck for a while. Which I know is stupid. I’m sorry.

Thankfully, the moment the music start the more I felt it. I felt the energy course through my veins and it was electric and suddenly the music was all I could hear. You somehow managed to drown my thoughts. Kudos to you. 

Tell your friend again I think he’s extremely talented. And if he ever records them on tape I 100% want a copy.

As for you, Blue. I think you need to learn to be less stubborn- let yourself go a bit. You don’t always have to be right, yknow? 

So, I think it’s time for you to be more flexible.

Have you ever done an escape room before? Usually they require a lot of team work and communication. Stubbornness won’t do anything if you don’t listen. 

I’ve devised a team that truly won’t work unless you allow some flexibility. Let’s hope you don’t hate me after this one.

The games at 7pm tomorrow night. Leave the notebook in the first items locker.

Now for my question, 

What’re your thoughts on true love?

I know even you can be a bit cheesy so- I’m praying there’s a bit of a hopeless romantic in you somewhere.

That’s all for now.

Until next time,

Notebook Boy

***

Notebook Boy,

Wow. You were not kidding about this team. You really are a sadist huh? You managed to create my nightmare team. I cant tell if should be happy you know me enough to do that or terrified that you knew how to get on my nerves.

I’ve got to hand it to you. You did manage to make me a bit less stubborn. Only a little though don’t get cocky. It was…very challenging I’ll say- trying to get everyone to listen. Not fun. But we did manage to win! A minute to spare and several hints but we won and I think that’s a point for me.

I’ll have to disagree with you a bit. I don’t think you’re boring. You’re probably one of the coolest people I know. You might think you’re boring but you’re not. Your mind is amazing yknow that? I like being able to read your thoughts. It makes me feel special. 

Don’t call yourself boring alright? I think you should own the name Notebook Boy. Own the mysterious-ness of it all. 

In fact, I think I know your next dare.

There’s a cafe by the old middle school I don’t know if you know it- Uncle Mel’s? Anyways they do poetry slams every weekend. Go to it. Get on stage and make up and identity and do whatever. Be weird be different be you anything. You’re never gonna see these people again so screw it. Make up a character if you want to.

I think you’ll find yourself a bit more interesting afterwards. I’m sure you’ll even steal the hearts of a few boys and girls. (Although hopefully your heart is already reserved)

Anyways, true love. I don’t know what I think really. I’d like to think it’s true. I’d like to think there is such thing as true love and the one and all of that but…part of me doesn’t. Or- we’ll that’s not true.

I think most of me thinks it’s not true or— at least has accepted it. But…part of me wants it to be true- hopes it I guess. Like, hopes that will one day I’ll see the one and it all clicks yknow? It feels childish admitting that. 

Also. Don’t apologise. You don’t have to apologise for feeling like an outsider. It’s okay.. I feel that way too. It’s not stupid. I hope you at least feel less of an outside now? Either because of the show or….or me? I don’t know.

Now for my question, I think…I want to know…do you play DnD? If so, what’s your class? 

I’m a paladin. (Maybe you’ve guessed that considering how well you know me) 

Enjoy the poetry slam (leave the notebook with the barista with the name tag Max)

Yours,

Blue 

[garbage--account]

Too much thoughts going on in my head...

Today, I had a mental breakdown, as it occurs more and more often to me nowadays.

Too much information, too much stress, too much work, too much deadline, too much heat, too much drama, too much people getting on my nerves, too much ....

Too much was going on in my head. So much that I couldn't even think or concentrate. As I had so much too do and so little time to proceed, i could literally feel anger and sadness in my throat and a sort of fever forming on my forehead. I knew I was at my ultimate limit. My job was asking me efficiency, knowledge, availability, reliability, but all I could respond was aggressivity, disdain, sarcasm and antisocial behaviour.

As i was reduced to tears in the bathroom, i suddenly realized that i will turn 24 this month. It made me feel pathetic. Childhood and teenagehood was long behing me, though here I am having a temper tantrum like those obnoxious spoiled kids that couldn't have candy from their moms, right in the middle of a supermarket.

People says we glow up when we get older, on every aspect. I glowed down, for sure. I am now definitly ten thousand worst that i was in my moodiest days of the rebellious phase. I can do better, i know i did better before. Younger me couldn't even care less about drama, toxic people, of what we could say about her, bad news that didn't concerned her : she was focused on her work, on her exams, on her friends, on her future. She always managed to have good results without mentally scaring herself and to do what brought to her joy. Now me is head first in the drama, stuck with unsufferable colleagues and boss, always more work to do, with no time and space to do it properly, blames everything and every mistake on others, on lack of time, on lack of justice, on lack of sleep, on lack of rest, she absolutly can't deal with criticism, she's borderline insane.

When too much is too much, i sometime wonder what happens if i die : Will they feel sorry to push me so far? Will it teach them a lesson the hardest way? Will they not do it again? Will my parents and friends hate them afterward? Will they even care? Does it hurt when you die? Do i get to really rest when i die? What would my funeral cost? Will dad and mom still stand after that? Will i get to do what i want somehow?

Thing is, i don't really want to die. I just think of death, not necessarily mine (even if i don't expect living that old), nor theirs. I just want a break, a pause, a really long pause, from everything. Somewhere, i don't know anymore where, i heard that those people with depression with suicidal thoughts often doesn't really want to die but just that everything stops, while they tryna get back on their feet.

I can relate with that, but i have no depression. I think i haven't. I don't really want to make sure. I can have dark and heavy thoughts one moment, and being the most silly, happy, lightheaded person ever the next. Most of the time, i am emotionless inside. I am not enough sad and desesperate to call myself depressed, but not enough well and balanced to say that i am ok.

There is so many reasons for me to be happy, or at least cheerful, yet i feel no satisfaction, no contentment. I have certainly enough days off to be rested and to have fun, yet i have no peace of mine, never. Even when i know there is nothing to do today, tomorrow and the day after, i still feel pressure. My family and friends thinks that i am just lazy when i wake up at ungodly hours. Truth is i woke several times : the first time i felt tired so i closed my eyes again, Second time it was to early to be out out bed and get bored, third time was the perfect time but i just wasn't feeling like doing anything and be with people yet, fourth time i got lost in my train of thoughts again, mind so heavy i couldn't even get up, fifth time i was masterbathing (not because i am corny, but just because), sixth time i was finally up 'cause had too pee. Despite this long ass beauty sleep, i find hazy and tired, my mind empty after my brain exhausted itszlf. I spend the rest of the day "napping" with open eyes on the couch.

I suspect something might be wrong in my head but am afraid to reach out at this point. When i tell at work that i cannot do anymore more than i do, they answer by "it's just a busy time", " it will be calmer next time", "we already help you on whatever we can", "we all have our problem". When i tell about this with the doctor, he answers "try to talk with your manager about this". When i tell my family and friends that i have it rough, they answer "me too lol", "could be worst", "why don't you leave then?". I feel like speaking to walls, sending me back my echo. How can I tell if something is wrong with me or the way i am treated if everybody seems fine with it? I feel like if i am actually reaching out a professional, i will be wasting their (and my) precious time. Do i even want to get help?

So i guess i have to assume that i am being just dramatic and just need to grow up ... finding a way to find my own peace of mind, discovering who i am by myself, starting living on my own without help or support. But i don't have time to look after that. This existence is going at bullet train speed and i have to catch up as my life is running away from me.

Also, I have too much going on in my head right now ...

[melodraca]

hi. I'm seeing a lot of Tatiana in your oc tag. tell me about Tatiana if you felt so inclined? 👀

Hi. asfgxmgk thank you so much for the ask, oc asks are like crack to me

Tatiana is my best friend/RP partner's oc. She's technically from her own separate story (a modern drama/romance university type situation), but they haven't written it yet, so I'm mostly basing this off of the verson of her in one of our RPs.

Said RP was vaguely inspired by The Long Dark and Frostpunk. It's set during an apocalypse, where the Earth is being overtaken by a sudden iceage/massive blizzard, and the main cast of protagonists are traveling across the country to try and find somewhere that hasn't frozen over yet.

Tatiana is one of the main characters, and is in a relationship with my character Jordan. The whole story began with Jordan, who was visiting Canada as a volunteer to try and help people evacuate. The storm got too bad for her to escape and she ended up stranded with another character (Amir).

Tatiana came in when a rescue was attempted for Jordan and Amir, and she was a part of the crew. They didn't make it too far (helicopter crashed :/) and from there, she was stuck with them, along with a military medic who was also a part of the rescue team (John). On their way, they picked up several more people to join them as they traveled south.

OK that was a lot of preface. I'm so sorry.

So, Tatiana herself is an anarchist and a tattoo artist, deeply involved in the punk subculture. She's tall, toned, covered in tattoos, has blue hair and pronouns, etc. But on god, she is not as cool as she sounds. She's so cringefail. She's just such a fucking loser. She's wet and pathetic. And I love her so much. She sucks, and I would kill for her. I walk into a room and I tell everyone "get ready here comes the most specialest girl ever if you don't cheer and clap for her I'll blow this whole fucking building up."

(Jordan actually does blow a building up for her at one point)

Ok but genuinely, I feel so bad for her. She joined the mission to try and save Amir (her best friend) and for a moment she felt like a hero. Until that mission failed horribly. And after that, she felt like she had to be a leader and that she had a responsibility to step up and keep their group safe. But she kept failing, sometimes by no fault of her own, and sometimes as a result of some very bad decisions. She ended up being somewhat ostracized by parts of the group, and even eventually by Amir, her best friend.

Some fun facts:

- She grew up with really strict, awful parents

- She's so mentally ill, she's just a mess. Her dorm room was a prime example of "damn bitch you live like this?" She's just like me fr.

- She managed to get on the incredibly dangerous and borderline suicidal rescue mission to save her friend by "convincing" one of the officers to let her on (she punched him in the face)

- She'd fight anyone. She'd fight her own reflection. She'd fight god.

- Most of her tattoos were done by herself

- She's a cat person

- The cast of protagonists in this particular RP is so funny because at one point they end up hating each other so much. It's like the world's most toxic found family

- A lot of it was spurred by Tatiana being reckless and hot-headed. Part of it was due to her getting into a misunderstanding with another character (no one's fault) which resulted in said character (Nur) being hurt pretty bad. Nur's ride-or-die best friend (Esther), who holds a grudge like nobody's business, despised her so much for it that it ended up fracturing the group for some time.

- They get better though

- John's kind of like the glue that holds everyone together. He's everyone's friend. He's the capybara of the group. A real peacemaker. He was always nice to her, even if some of the others weren't

- Tatiana is so into her cool scary girlfriend; she's so gay for her it hurts

- Favorite Tatiana quote => "Maybe I want to take risks. Maybe I want to keep pushing myself, further and further. 'Cause, if I stop, I might never start up again. That somehow, that rush is all I have left. So maybe I'll keep risking it. Until something finally takes me out."

- She disappeared from the group for like 2 months because she was so sopping wet and sad and convinced that nobody liked her that she thought it would be best for her to run away. When she returns, she's gone through a journey of personal growth (beat up some guys, got beat up, joined a lesbian survivalist commune, got a cool badass wardrobe change) but she's still a little bit cringefail.

- She gets a massive burn scar on her face at one point during her personal journey, and when she returns she's like "Jordan... I'm so sorry,, You probably think I'm hideous now.... :(" And Jordan, who has had severe facial scarring since before they met, is just like "No???? Why the fuck would you think-"

For some reason this picrew my friend made is the only picture I can find of her. The hyperrealistic hand.

[kimium]

Hey friend, I was wondering: What are some of your favourite experiences from when you lived/worked in Japan?

Aw friend! This is a fantastic ask! I have so many great memories of being in Japan that I am delighted to share with you!

My favourite experiences from what I lived and worked in Japan

-Kappazushi: In case you don't know, Kappazushi is a conveyor sushi restaurant chain. While there are many different conveyor sushi restaurants, I like Kappazushi the best. Also, they have kappa as their mascot. 10/10.

-My parents + sister visiting me: My first year in Japan my parents and sister came to visit me during Christmas. They saw the school I was working at, my classes, and then toured around Tokyo with me. It was a lot of fun and I have a lot of happy memories.

-Staff dinners: Every three months the staff would have a dinner at the local restaurant. It was always a lot of fun and my favourite part was during autumn/winter they'd serve nabe (hotpot).

-Getting lost on the way to my own farewell party: We held my farewell/going away party in Nagano-shi and I didn't realize the restaurant was on the fourth floor of the building. I walked past it and Google Maps wasn't helping. They ended up sending three of my coworkers to come find me. How embarrassing.

-Maid Cafe in Akihabara: Before I left Japan I spent two days in Tokyo. On my first day I went to a maid cafe. The staff were panicking because "we don't speak a lot of English" (I know enough Japanese to get by). Coincidently there was another English speaking person there at the same time. They sat me beside this person LOL. We had a nice hour chat at the very least.

-@a-little-harmed-shinra visiting me: I'm still so happy that Yuki managed to visit me! I was so happy and had a lot of fun going around Tokyo with them! Shout out to our first day in Tokyo where it rained while we were at the Tower and that doujinshi store that became gayer the higher up we went.

-Wearing a kimono to Kinkaku-ji and having a foreign couple want a photo of me: I was gifted a kimono and wanted to wear it while I was in Japan. I ended up wearing it to Kinhaku-ji where this couple wanted my photo. I felt very cool in that moment.

-USJ (Universal Studios Japan): The same trip when I was at Kinkaju-ji I went to USJ. It was right around the time the live action Attack on Titan movie was out too, so I was able to see the props and a sculpture of the wall post S1. One of my favourite photos I took.

-Danjiri-matsuri: If you've never experienced the Danjiri-matsuri in Osaka, I highly encourage it. It's my favourite festival and I love my Nakamachi shirt.

-Being short change for the parkade and needing to ask a stranger for 120 yen: This was so embarrassing! I emptied all my change and only had a 5000 yen note. I thought I could slip out and break it at the convenience store right beside the parkade but a lady was waiting to leave. I didn't have the Japanese to tell her my plan so instead I asked her for 120 yen.

-Visiting the Pokemon Centre in Ikebukuro: Honestly, one of the coolest stores in Japan. I took a lot of fun pictures and while I didn't buy a lot, I have some items that are very cute.

-Homemade noodles in my village: Where I lived we had cute little old grannies making homemade noodles all the time. I didn't realize how spoiled I was until I had ramen somewhere else.

-"Yamada Denki!": There is an electronics store in Japan named Yamada Denki. They have this little jingle that is stuck in my brain for eternity.

-Buying my own kotatsu: My first year there I had to buy myself my own kotatsu. Sadly I couldn't take it with me home, but I love my little kotatsu and had fun picking it out.

-ARUKUMA-CHAN: Arukuma is the mascot of the prefecture I lived in and I love Arukuma with all my heart. There is a statue of Arukuma in the Nagano-eki so if you're ever there, please check him out.

-Oyaki: My beloved... I miss you... especially nozawana.

[cassiopeiagarcia]

Cassiopeia García

26 years old

Doesn't let anybody refer to her as Cassiopeia, opts for Cass

Also born in Madrid, Spain

Moved to Japan when she was two

Hearts player

Art restorer

Changes her hair color often, now stuck with blonde

Sarcastic, witty, loves bickering, tends to hide her emotions

Cares deeply for those that manage to get close to her

───⋆☆─────────────

Both the muses and mun are +18.

This is just something I do for fun, because I love my characters and wanted to develop them further than just a few fics and oneshots.

I am not picky when it comes to what to write, but if you're interested in romance, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, or anything of the sort I'd like it if there was chemistry between our characters. Maybe they could start off as friends and see where that takes them?

I don't like writing smut.

I am always up for talking ooc as well, so if you ever want to chat feel free to shoot me a message.

If I ever don't reply to a post/am taking very long to reply to one of our threads, again, please message me. It could be that I'm not inspired, I haven't had that much time, the thread got lost somewhere in my notifications or I just can't get into the mindset of that character in that particular moment.

Each of your characters gets their own separate universe with the siblings. So, basically, multiverse. But, you get the three of them, because otherwise I'd go crazy. <3

[puppybearuniverse]

i miss barry and thori and blisk and bear so much tonight. bear was gonna b so cool. but tbh i should have known this was the direction things were going. killing thori was kind of a last ditch effort to make things run smoothly again, and i think at that point, you should just cut your losses. it may not have been bad d&d, but it wasn't enjoyable d&d anymore. i think expressing that feeling also kind of led to this. it sucks, but hey. life moves forward. i can always use my "x class thinks theyre actually y class" gimmick somewhere else. i did it with thori, i did it with reggie, i can do it again. it kinda sucks that it happens like. right before cool shit happens though. like i think thori had some really cool opportunities available to her that we just didn't explore for [reasons]. i would have really loved to do that, but it wasn't what was fun for everyone. and i was really excited to play with henry's life and what that entailed, but then everyone was gone and nothing was fun anymore. max would have been really great, too, but nothing gold can stay. i think the body swap was such a cool concept, but nobody ever got to find out about it. not that it would have mattered much - i seem to fall into a pit of playing with people who only really care about their own characters, and not a collaborative experience. god knows i didn't enjoy orryn or vesuvius past a certain point. athel was really awesome though. i miss what she had going on, and i think getting to explore her "orphanage" would have been seriously kickass. zia also seemed like there were opportunities abound. god cese was really fun to play with, i think having that element missing from the game with max and kiwi and jeff was a big detriment to it. it's nice to play with someone who is paying attention to the circumstances but doesn't need to be centered in them. one day i will find a group of these people and play a really great game, but that just takes time and patience. this is an absolutely incoherent dump at this point but im typing it on tumblr so its staying on tumblr. i think everyone should be a little more adaptable with d&d. i know thats a very lukewarm take. but i think everyone should be able to like, sit back and be cool with where the story goes as a group, and adjust based on the group vibes. i'm not flawless. thori was kind of a cunt. i loved her, but she was a cunt. i don't think it was a bad vibe - i was told it wasn't. but idk, people aren't always fully honest about those things. it sucks that i felt like i had to kill her in order to have a place in the story, but i couldn't find any other way for her to fit in. i hope she's enjoying herself out there. i hope the people who she hurt get their vengeance, and i hope she's able to forgive herself. i hope henry found peace in his little half a home, and managed to find love from his community, if he couldn't save his wife. i hope max. well. i don't think max survived that giant fireball if you think about it. but if he did, i want to forever picture that moment with water-walking boots and the vial of water, waves roaring just under his steps. i don't know what bear... well, tallulah, would have gone through, but i hope she navigated it with all the grace a teenager could hope for. i hope they're all happy, even if they're not real. they only really grow and change around others, and i don't really replay characters, so they're more or less stuck where they were, with what i know about them. they're like friends i lost touch with. i know they're out there, i know what they were last up to, but beyond that, i can only hope that they're okay.

[eluvion]

2022 Fic Year in Review

Total number of completed stories: 3

Total word count: for published fic, 22,576. the tua draft that i never got to finishing has somewhere around 10k words on it, there were a few random 1 and 2k drafts that are stuck in my google docs somewhere, and there’s a Lot of words in college applications and articles

Fandoms written in: bungou stray dogs, the umbrella academy, and daredevil!!

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d expected? hoo boy a lot less. i expected college apps would have An Effect on how much fic i wrote, but Wow. it cut off me writing that one tua draft literally right in the middle of me writing it, and i have no idea if i’ll get anywhere near finishing it once im done applying to places.

What’s your own favorite story of the year? all that said, poetry au--aka hope is our four-letter word--came out this year, which was some of my best work. i love it a lot, and even though it didn’t see the same levels of success as my other bsd fics, it is by far my favorite.

Did you take any writing risks this year? i'm walking backward into my own myth was a fun one. i wouldnt exactly call it a risk, but the format and time jumbling was weird enough that i’m putting it under this category.

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the new year? write more?? i don’t have any drafts i’m in the middle of, but writing more for daredevil looks fun. i’d like to write some team red, but i don’t know if i have a solid enough grasp on either wade or peter’s characters to feel confident doing that

Most popular story of the year? hope is our four-letter word!! which, to be fair, is my longest and i put it out in january and my other fics were published in november and literally like an hour ago, so it makes sense.

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: this year?? i think they’ve been pretty well appreciated. obviously, just breathe that moment down was published literally today, so i can’t really say anything about it. i wish hope got more attention, but it makes sense to me why it didn’t--it’s kind of an eclectic mix of tropes and is very soft and quiet and kind of unlike most of my bsd fics. 

Most fun story to write: ohhhhh i dont know. hope was fun because i got to construct a lot of the world around chuuya and dazai, and i love the idea of where dazai is at that point in his life. he’s well enough to go to college, but everyone around him still worries, and he thinks about oda all the time and he kind of wants to die all the time, but he’s just starting to see light at the end of this tunnel. yosano in this verse is also just the best i love her so much. 

but god. i’m walking backward into my own myth was SO fun. the tense changes and mess of five destroying time and trying to put it back together is just so fun to write, and the style was wonderful. 

Most unintentionally telling story: none of them are unintentionally telling, but just breathe that moment down is certainly. telling. december is just Bad this year so sorry yall have to keep hearing me bitch about college apps but. yeah. Yeah!!! 

Biggest disappointment: THE TUA DRAFT. oh my god i wanted to finish that So Bad and i feel bad because i’ve put out so many snippets but i never got the fic out. it was going to partner with a klaus-centric fic my best friend was making, but :(((( we both got caught up in our personal lives and college applications, so neither of us managed to finish. ah well. perhaps in the new year we’ll get back to it.

Biggest surprise: not necessarily a Good Surprise but god. oh god. the Great 2022 Writing Slump. it hit like a goddamn truck.

but!!! for good surprises, me getting into daredevil!! i’m scared for whatever the mcu is going to shit out next, but the show was a masterpiece and i think it’s high time i started reading the comics instead of putting misplaced trust in disney to have good writing, so i got some for christmas!!

[noteguk]

bad attitude | jjk | m

[ ! ] this is part of the bad influence collection. You can read it as a stand-alone though! 

— summary; in which Jungkook finally learns how to behave. Kind of. 

— contents and warnings; pwp, smut, badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, enemies with benefits/enemies to lovers, brattysub!kook x dom!reader, actually more of a switch!kook/switch!reader, the oc is kind of a demon with teasing because payback is a bitch, bondage, edging, dirty talk, begging, oral (m receiving), female masturbation, cockwarming, unprotected sex (don’t be dumb), creampie, stuffing, Taehyung makes a cameo, terrible use of the two wolves meme I’m so sorry 

— words; 7,2k 

— author’s note; yes I started this with a meme and no I’m not okay. This is kind of chaotic tbh but I wanted to write something a bit more unhinged and lighthearted after all that drama from the third part of the series. This happens some time after bad reputation. 

Also! Take a look at the text messages that brought them to this moment ;) 

Probably one of the dumbest things that Jungkook had ever heard came from his roommate and childhood friend, Taehyung, after a few hours scrolling through Facebook with a blunt hanging from the corner of his lips. Taehyung was in the deep web equivalent of social media: entrepreneur pages, where young, overly-dressed men with obviously rented convertibles promised to teach gullible people how to become millionaires by working at home (if you only pay for their courses). Nevertheless, what started as an ironic scroll through shallow motivational quotes quickly escalated into a semi-believable, mostly high rant about the importance of controlling your inner demons, which Jungkook sadly had to endure, since he was the only person around and, therefore, his roommate's sole target. 

Taehyung was high out of his mind, but it seemed as if he would be the last to get that memo: in his twisted conception, he was spilling the hottest of truths (and not the incoherent ramble that it really was). Fighting through Jungkook’s complaints and eye rolls, he simply went on and on about how the page “Alpha Billionaire 101” wasn’t really that off beat when they said that you do, in fact, have two wolves inside you — and the one you feed is the one that wins. Jungkook was basically disassociating by the point that Taehyung started drawing some graphs, looking fixedly at the two wolves on the screen of his computer (one written “success and drive” and the other one representing “failure and procrastination”) and wishing that the gods above would strike him down once and for all. 

And why is that important? Well, because eventually Taehyung fell asleep and moved on with his life, only casually mentioning the other stuff he saw on that page, but his words stuck around, glued to the back of Jungkook’s head. Not because they held any sort of meaning, but because the wolf metaphor was just too stupid to forget. And that eventually caught up to Jungkook in the strangest, most unexpected of ways: with you and bondage being involved. 

Now, Jungkook had two wolves inside of him: one was extremely laid back and barely cared about most things that happened, as long as he was having a good time. The second wolf was a bitter, prideful, egocentric, mean little thing that simply wouldn’t fold no matter how much the world wanted it to. And it was that second wolf that took him to that position: because Jungkook told you that he was positive, certain, a hundred percent sure that he’d never be like you and beg for something during sex. 

Which made both of your wolves absolutely pissed. 

“What the fuck…” he mumbled, looking up at your agile hands moving like wasps around his wrists. The room was dark, barely illuminated by the moonlight that came from the window, but that wasn’t really the reason why his pupils were so blown-out. “Where did you learn to tie knots like this?” 

You smiled, giving a last pull on the ropes to make sure they would stay still. Jungkook had been elated when you finally told him that you’d be willing to try it out bondage. One thing he didn’t expect, though, was that he would be the one getting tied up. “I was in the Girl Scouts,” you told him, sitting back against his thighs. 

Jungkook scoffed, tugging at the ropes. They weren’t too tight, yet they burned his skin a bit — not an unwelcome feeling, but his mind wasn’t too focused on it. He had to live up to his own words. “Of course you were in the fucking Girl Scouts.” He rolled his eyes. “So, how long is this gonna take?”

His gaze followed as your hands unclasped your bra. Jungkook, who had already been stripped down to his boxers, could barely disguise the twitching of his eyebrows when your breasts finally came into view. The bra collapsed somewhere on the floor. “Depends on how long it takes for you to say it,” you reminded him. 

Jungkook shifted around, gaze following the rise and fall of your chest. His hands struggled against the ropes, aching to touch your breasts, and you could notice the frustration blossoming at the back of his throat when he spoke up. “I’m not gonna say it.” 

With a pout, you leaned back in, placing your hands on his broad chest for leverage. “Then it’s probably going to take a long time.” You blinked up at him, and there was a devilish glint in your eyes that he didn’t remember seeing before. He was doomed. “Comfortable?”

“Not at all,” he complained. 

The smile you gifted him made his knees weak for a second. “Perfect.” Your hands traveled to the back of his neck, fingers playing with his hair and eyes zeroing in on his mouth. “Now, be good and kiss me like you mean it, okay?” 

Be good? 

Jungkook didn’t get any time to digest your words before your mouth was pressing against his, enveloping him in your warmth — and suddenly he didn’t want to think about anything else. How could he? When you had your hands caressing his neck, with a soft sigh against his lips, there was nothing else in the world that could rob his attention. 

In the end, past his brooding, unshakable persona, Jungkook was still a weak man when it came to you, he really was. It had become a natural, well-rehearsed reaction of his to explore your mouth with his tongue at every chance that he got; your lips slapping together as he groaned against you. The skin of his wrists was tingling, pressing hard against the ropes that held his hands back from exploring your body; from pulling you closer like he wanted to. Instead, he was at your mercy, following your own pace as you leaned your head to the side, fingers tugging on his hair as you sighed happily into the kiss. 

It was exactly the way he liked: sensual, slow, messy; made his head spin when you rolled your clothed center on his erection before sucking on his tongue. Jungkook was sure that you were doing all that on purpose, riling him up as much as possible before finally touching him where he needed so much, and that was definitely going to be a problem. 

In the back of his head, Jungkook was currently trying to decide if he hated Taehyung or not: the fact that his roommate had compulsively chosen to attend a party three hours away was the reason that you were there, kissing him like he was the air that you breathed, but also the reason why Jungkook had gotten tied up in the first place. If he had had a bit more time between texting you that he would never beg in sex (a very dumb, very unthought action), and the moment that you actually tried to make it happen, perhaps he would be able to convince you to step down from it. Perhaps he would realize that his prideful side was also really, really fucking stupid when it came to predicting his own limits. 

Truth was: Jungkook was pretty much panicking when you moaned against his lips, because his cock was unbearably hard inside his underwear and he just knew that he would fold after some time. Especially when you were acting like that, like a demon trying to seduce him into selling his soul; a siren about to drag him to the abyssal depths of the ocean. He could barely follow what was happening. 

Because of his dominating tendencies, Jungkook had never seen you showing your typical neurotic, controlling self during your sexual adventures — which was something he endlessly teased you for, but never thought it would actually have any sort of backlash. It seemed that both of you liked the usual dynamic (of Jungkook taking over) well enough and, yet, as he watched that sadistic expression monopolizing your features, he realized that maybe it was for the best. Maybe you had been training your whole life to perfect the masterful art of having things happening the way you wanted it, and maybe giving you the lead was one of the worst decisions he had made in some time. 

As you pulled away, Jungkook chased after your mouth, managing to place another small kiss on your lips before the ropes held him back. “More,” he groaned. 

The curve of your mouth was a wicked little thing, almost making him lose his composure for a second. “No, no more,” you were firm in your words. “Be patient.” 

He huffed. “You only got an attitude because my hands are tied up.”

“I always have an attitude,” you were fast to correct, getting out of his lap. The lack of your warmth was instantly felt, made his chest heave in frustration as you sat down next to him. There was an embarrassingly large wet spot on his underwear that he was hoping you wouldn’t notice. “But, yeah, maybe I’m a little braver because of it.” Before he could muster up a response, one of your hands traveled between his thighs, faintly tracing its way up his skin. “And what are you going to do about it?” 

Jungkook clenched his jaw — it was embarrassing how sensitive he was, goosebumps spreading through his legs. “Don’t tease."

“Or what?” A squeeze of his bulge was everything you need to make him shut up, his hips buckling up to meet your palm. Jungkook was hard and leaking, pulsating as you gave him a few, half-assed pumps through his underwear. A few seconds were more than enough to let him have his fun, it seemed, because you were soon removing your hand from his erection. “Now, stay still unless you want me to tie your feet too.” 

He hissed at the lack of contact, but refused to complain about it out loud. You smiled at his reaction: Jungkook was so stubborn when it came to things like that, would never show you his weak, needy side so easily. But you were patient and, from what you had been told, you had all night to get your way. 

Call it revenge, call it whatever: there was nothing that you wanted more than to see Jungkook bite back his own words and beg for you. It was an ego thing, perhaps, the mission to leave him just as overwhelmed and desperate as he had made you so many times in the past. Maybe you were a bit mean about it. But it was well deserved. 

You took your time pulling one of his legs towards you, watching as his cock throbbed when you placed your body between his thighs. Jungkook could only think about how soft your mouth felt as you kissed up his thigh before, at last, you were nuzzling your face against his erection, placing kisses on his clothed member as your thumb pressed down on his sensitive tip. His breath grew irregular at the feeling, his tongue poking out to wet his lips as you looked up at him with that demonic smirk of yours, those big doe eyes that wiped his thoughts clean. Jungkook was absolutely fucked. 

Luckily, he didn’t have to urge you further because, soon enough, you were pulling his underwear down, making it join your bra on his bedroom floor. Jungkook could’ve cried when you rolled your thumb over his crown, spreading his precum all over him, a delighted hum dripping past your throat. “You’re leaking,” you commented, eyes following the glistening of his reddened tip. He could only muster a raggedy, short sigh before you were talking again. “I can clean you up, don’t worry.” 

Jungkook moaned out when you wrapped your lips around his cock, not hesitating much before you sank down on him. His head fell back when you started sucking, your cheeks hollowing out and tongue pressed flat against him. “God, your mouth feels so fucking perfect.” His hips thrusted up, but you had enough of a reflex to pull away before he managed to hit the back of your throat. “Take it deeper, baby, do it for me.”

But you did the opposite, removing him from your mouth. You glanced up at him with a disinterested look plastered all over your face, lips glossy with a beautiful mixture of your saliva and his wetness. Jungkook made a mental note to never forget that sight. “I don’t know if you understand what’s going on here, Jungkook.” You wrapped one hand around his cock, pumping it twice. It felt good, but nothing compared to your mouth. “But it’s really not your place to tell me what to do right now. That’s not how it works.” 

“Yeah?” He chuckled, eyebrows raised in a silent dare. “And what are you going to do about it?” 

Poor decisions: Jungkook’s week was filled with poor decisions. Blame that unshakable arrogant side of his, blame his terribly constructed defense mechanisms; blame whatever it was that didn’t allow him to think clearly when you were so beautifully placed between his legs, but it seemed that he really thought it would be a good call to provoke you when you were already 1) deadset on making him embarrass himself 2) probably the best Girl Scout to ever tie a knot in history. 

Jungkook was completely helpless: he knew that, you knew that. So the reason why he mocked you in such a position would forever be another mystery that science could never answer. 

And the payback arrived soon enough. Jungkook only earned a few seconds of relaxation, staring at your impassive face, before your mouth was sinking back down around his member. 

If Jungkook thought that you were teasing him before, now you were sucking him like you wanted him to cum in two seconds — hands pumping his length, playing with his balls, tip hitting your throat, tongue dragging against his slit: the four horsemen of your apocalyptic blowjob technique that got him seeing stars in no time. “Fuck, that’s my girl,” he moaned. He was sure his wrists would be all red in the following morning from the way he was mindlessly moving his arms around, his mind just so hyper-focused on the need to touch you, to pull your hair when you were wrapping around his cock so well. “Feels so fucking perfect.” 

Then, as he was just about to tip over, you pulled away. 

“No, what the fuck,” Jungkook’s eyes snapped open, still unfocused and glazed-over. His body flinched at the interruption of his pleasure, and his cock throbbing against his pelvis, angry for attention. “Fuck, why did you stop?”

“That’s what I’m going to do about it.” You smiled, and Jungkook noticed that he was really playing a very dangerous game. In a span of two seconds, he asked himself if he was that mean to you, realized that he probably was, and came to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t change anything about it. “Are you going to behave now, Jungkook?” 

He groaned, fighting against the frustrated waves that overtook his body. His orgasm, before so close, had now been washed away, leaving him with a pulsating feeling inside his guts. “You’re pissing me off.”

“Likewise.” You tilted your head to the side, placing one hand on his thigh. “Now, stay still and do what I tell you to do. That’s the last time I’m asking.” 

He frowned. “Or what?”

You blinked, pausing for a second. “Isn’t it obvious? Or I’m leaving you like this.” 

Jungkook’s brain finally seemed to comprehend the fact that, sometimes, it’s better to keep your mouth shut. So, instead of saying something, he simply watched as you removed your underwear before sitting between his legs, your thighs over his. 

Because you absolutely hated him, you had opened your legs wide, pussy on full display, as you used one hand to lean back against the mattress. His eyes almost jumped out of their sockets when you used two fingers to spread your folds apart. “Look,” you said, your breathy voice making something inside his chest switch. “I’m so wet.” 

And wet you were. Jungkook exhaled, nostrils flaring. His mouth salivated at the thought of licking you clean, fingers growing white around the ropes. He never hated an object so hard in his life. “I can… I can see that.” 

You giggled at the grogginess of his tone, dove into the satisfaction that came from his focused eyes on your soaked folds. A gentle suspire left you as your digits slipped up, covering your clit with your arousal before pressing down on it. You were acting up a bit, whining loudly at the feeling because you knew that it drove him crazy to hear you make sounds for him. “Jungkook…” you trailed off. You had to bite back a laugh when his stare snapped up at you, looking so overwhelmingly horny and pissed off at the same time — the duality of men. “Want to have you inside me.” 

He exhaled heavily. “Do it,” he said and you allowed him to think that it was his order (and not your decision) that made you move. 

Jungkook’s pupils were blown out in sheer desire, wanting to absorb every light that bounced off your soft skin when you lined yourself with his cock, covering his tip with your warm wetness, allowing it to rub between your folds. By the time that you sat down on him, he was dangerously close to cracking. 

“Oh fuck.” His hips thrusted up, wanting to feel more of your tight walls around him. It was heaven and hell, just the way he loved it, but his delight wouldn’t last long. “Fuck, baby, that feels so good.”

“It does,” you agreed, but there was a teasing inflection in your tone that he did not miss. Soon, your fingers were back where they were before, circling your clit. “And I happen to know how to make it even better. For myself, at least.” 

It took him a few moments to understand what was going on, but, once it clicked inside his head, he could’ve cried from frustration. “What are you doing?”

“Getting myself off.” You smiled — oh you were such a fucking demon, he thought, a trickster spirit that wouldn’t rest until he was begging you to let him cum. Worst part? He might as well do it. “You don’t mind, do you? I know you love to keep your cock inside me like this.” 

They say that revenge is sweet and, as you saw the flash of desperation that crossed Jungkook’s face, you couldn’t agree more. “Aren’t… aren’t you going to move?” He tried. 

You could tell that he was holding back from just thrusting up inside you, which was equally satisfying and arousing: maybe, just maybe, he was starting to learn one thing or two about following your orders. “Hmmm… not at all.” You smirked, a tiny gasp leaving your lips as you circled your sensitive spot just the right way. Jungkook followed the movement of your lips as if they were writing the secrets of the universe. “Not if you keep that attitude up.” 

He frowned, the corners of his mouth twitching in frustration. From your peripheral vision, you could see his wrists vaguely struggling against your knots — humbly speaking, you were a great Girl Scout, the typical overachiever, and you were positive that they would hold up. 

“You’re going to regret this later,” Jungkook warned, but his words didn’t even have the chance to affect you. One clenching of your walls around him was all that it took for his head to roll back, a deep grunt dripping from his mouth at the sensation. It was just enough to keep him dangling over the edge, but not even close to making him cum. “Your pussy is so fucking tight, baby. Feels so fucking good.”

“I’m almost there, that’s why.” Your other hand slithered up your waist, cupping one of your breasts. Being a bit more theatrical than necessary (because you wanted to provoke him as much as you could), you gasped out his name as you rolled one nipple between your fingers, arching your back at the sensation. You swore you saw Jungkook’s eye twitch. “Gonna cum just like this. And you’re gonna be good and watch me.” 

Again with that be good bullshit, again not giving him enough time to process it before you were timidly rolling your hips. “Baby,” he gasped. “This isn’t fair.” 

“It isn’t,” you agreed, slightly breathless, your hand moving to play with your other breast. Jungkook followed the action like every part of you was magnetic, calling for his attention. “You do that to me all the time, though.” 

He frowned. “But I let you fucking touch me.” 

“How nice of you,” you sarcastically remarked. Another small roll of your hips made you gasp, fingers working faster around your clit. Teasing Jungkook got you shamefully turned on, it seemed, because you were just about to tip over the edge. “Fuck, feels so good.” 

“It would feel so much better if you just— God, you’re so fucking wet,” his mind was barely functioning at that point, the heavenly feeling of your walls clenching around him was making him go insane. “Just ride my cock, baby.” 

“No,” that simple word was like an arrow, shooting all his hopes down. Jungkook closed his eyes and threw his head back, trying to fight against the claustrophobic nature of his position. There was no way he could hold himself back, he thought, he would beg you as many times as he needed it that was what it took for him to finally cum. “I’m close, Kook.” 

That whimpery, needy tone of yours would be the death of him one of those days. “I can fucking feel it,” he cursed. Jungkook just wanted to thrust inside your dripping pussy, make you cream his cock like you were made for it, but he knew that you would just stop everything again if he did so, and he seriously didn’t think he could take that. “S-Shit, baby, you don’t know what you’re doing to me.” 

But you had a good idea of how you were affecting him. Through parted lids, you watched as his face contorted in pleasure when you squeezed particularly tightly around him; a muffled sob perishing on his throat when you vaguely raised your hips. Jungkook was filling you up so perfectly, like he always did, and it was that amazing stretch of his cock inside you, combined with the clear hunger that covered his features, that pulled your climax towards you. 

The orgasm that washed over you was abrupt, overbearing, just blinding enough so you didn’t notice the weak little moans that Jungkook let out at the throbbing of your walls around his aching length. You tried to prolong it for as long as possible, rubbing yourself, crying out his name for theatrical reasons, but eventually sensitivity got the best of you and you stopped. 

What you found when you did, however, was a glorious sight. Jungkook was a perfect picture of lust and desperation, his chest rising and falling rapidly and eyes locked on where your two bodies joined. There was a thin coat of sweat all over his skin, the small sound of the  ropes pulling on the headboard. When he noticed you were staring, he found your gaze. “I- I stood still,” he said. 

“I know, you did so good.” You placed one hand on his cheek, leveling your face with his so you could kiss him. Jungkook melted under your touch, a deep sigh leaving his mouth as you pulled away, his cock still deep inside you. “I’m proud of you.” 

As if something had magically changed, Jungkook tried to fight against his immobilized hands, only to find out that he was still unable to free himself. “Wanna touch you so bad, baby. You look so fucking hot sitting on my cock like this.” Jungkook was spoiled, you realized, because it didn’t take him two seconds of good behavior to revert back to what he wanted to happen. It was a terrible habit, you realized, one that you probably helped enable. “Fuck, just let me cum, baby. Take these off and I’ll fuck you just the way you like it.” 

And maybe if you weren’t so high up in your power rush, you would’ve at least considered his offer. However, having Jungkook turned into a pliant mess beneath you was worth more than anything else at that moment. “I’ll think about it if you say the magic word.”

He frowned, his charm melting away. Jungkook was so adamant on having it his way that it bordered on a joke. “Not gonna do it.” 

You kissed him once again before speaking up. “Then we don’t have a deal.” You shook your head, moving away from him. Jungkook searched after your mouth, but your stupid Girl Scouts knots didn’t allow him to go much further. He collapsed back against the headboard with a frustrated groan. “You’re a terrible sub.”

“Maybe because I’m not a fucking sub— Shit.” All his thoughts were wiped clean when you slowly raised your hips, only leaving his engorged tip inside, before, finally, sitting back down. The drag of your velvety walls against his sensitive cock was driving Jungkook up the wall, his tied-up wrists mindlessly knocking against each other. “Fuck. I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” You pouted, repeating the movement. You watched as his jaw clenched, a sharp exhale leaving his nostrils as Jungkook both fought against and searched for his pleasure. “Sure you don’t wanna say it?” 

A deliciously slow roll of your hips got him gasping out. “I’m not gonna — fuck — not gonna say it.” 

You leaned your head to the side, stopping your movements. Jungkook’s abdomen was caving in with every small brush of your pussy around him, the illumination from the streets making the drops of sweat on his skin look like small diamonds. It was an erotic sight, from the falling of his dark hair over his hooded eyes, to the beautiful inked drawings on his arms. Unfortunately, you had other things to do other than to admire him endlessly. 

With a sigh, you got up from his lap. “Too bad.”

“Baby,” Jungkook whined — actually whined —  when he felt his cock slip out of your perfect heat, collapsing against his abdomen. The sensation got him flinching, made him bite his lip for a second in an attempt to compose himself. “Baby, don’t leave me like this, come on.”

You frowned, faking annoyance. “How can I not leave you like this, Jungkook?” Your palms slithered around his shoulders, pulling your body closer to his. “You’re being horrible right now.” 

“S-Sorry.” His breath caught in his throat when your mouth met the skin of his neck, tongue prodding out to lick a small trail up his skin. Your heat was unbearable, suffocating him and drowning out his thoughts to the point that he had really apologized for his poor demeanor. If your predictions were correct, it wouldn’t take long before he folded the way you wanted him to. “Just, come on, you can’t just— I’m just so hard right now.” 

You giggled, fingertips moving down on his chest until you found what you were looking for. “Aw. Poor thing,” you teased, feeling as he grew stiff when you started to play with his nipples. A few weeks back, you had made the wonderful and unexpected discovery that Jungkook was really sensitive there, but you never really had a chance to explore that side of him before he flipped you over and had you his way. But the universe always searched for balance, and that moment was the karmic payback you were looking for. “What’s the problem, Kook?” 

“Wanna cum.” He winced away from your faint caresses, but he really didn’t have anywhere else to go. A smirk curled up on your lips as you watched Jungkook fight against the knots, a frail, airy moan leaving his chest as you rolled his nipples between your fingers. He sounded so perfect: so needy and desperate that you could feel another gush of arousal accumulating between your folds. “Just wanna cum so bad, baby.” 

“I’m not gonna be mean and hold it off,” you told him, moving back so you could place a kiss against his pouty, swollen lips. Jungkook looked so beautifully messy, so on edge, that you almost cried out at the sight of it. “You just have to say it,” you told him, lowering your hips until you were straddling his cock. 

With a roll of your pussy against him, his cock brushed between your wet folds, tearing a broken sob from his throat. “Fuck,” Jungkook cursed. He was never in a position like that: edged for so long that he couldn’t even control the grunts that left his throat. “You’re so fucking evil.”

“You love it.” Another grind of your pussy had him throwing his head back, a loud moan ripping itself from his heaving chest. Jungkook was sensitive, responsive to the tiniest of your touches and, most of all: he was desperate, seconds away from cracking. “You know, if you say it, I’ll let you cum.” 

His cock throbbed against you when you finally stopped your movements, raising your hips so your center moved away from his. Jungkook complained at the lack of sensation, practically on the limit of throwing a tantrum, and his pelvis mindlessly buckling up in search of your warmth. Instead, he found nothing, and his member simply collapsed back against his abdomen, aching for its release. 

“This— This is torture,” he groaned. You giggled at his distress, taking one hand to brush away the sweaty hair from his forehead. Jungkook leaned into your touch. “Please, baby, just fuck me.”

Your ears perked up at that, a pool of arousal starting to grow between your legs. That sounded even better than you had predicted. “Sorry, what was that?” You teased. 

Jungkook closed his eyes, clenching his jaw. “Don’t make me say it again.” 

Slowly, you lowered your hips again, pressing your pussy against his cock. Jungkook reacted instantly, taking in a sharp inhale. “Didn’t hear you,” you said. 

“God, baby, just fuck me, please,” he finally broke down, his dazed-out gaze seemed to have some trouble focusing on your face. Desperation was plastered all over him, staring at you like a beautiful, shimmering trophy. “Please, just let me cum. Please.” 

You hummed, leaning away so you could sit on his thighs, facing his erection. You were a woman of your word: you said you wouldn’t hold it back, and you wouldn’t. “Since you asked so nicely…” you trailed off, one hand wrapping around his base, pumping him a few times. Jungkook throbbed in your hands, his abdomen sinking as your thumb grazed his sensitive crown. “Where do you wanna cum?” 

It looked like you had truly broken the poor boy down because, for the first time in his life, Jungkook didn’t have any idea on how to answer that question. “I- I don’t know,” he struggled to speak when your hand was still caressing his member: just enough for him to feel something, but too slow and light for him to actually cum. “Anywhere. Just wanna cum.” 

You pouted, letting his cock go. It bounced on his pelvis, tore a painful cry from his throat as he felt his pleasure wash away once again. “I need an answer, Kook.” 

And he said the first thing that came into his mind. “Your pussy, baby, please.” 

A smile tugged on your lips — it seemed as if that word wasn’t so hard to say anymore. “Of course, you’ve been so good.” You moved around until you were sinking down on him, feeling that fantastic stretch all over again, and earning a shaky moan from his part. You only spoke up again after you were sure he couldn’t go any deeper. “Kook?” You called. His pleading eyes shot up at you. “Wanna fuck me?” 

He breathed out, just a tremulous gush of air that he could barely get ahold of. “Y-Yes, yes, please.” 

You hummed, wiggling your ass around just so you could watch his face contort in despair, crumbling under the delicious drag of your plump walls around his cock. Jungkook almost looked cute, you dared to think, even if you were sure he would fold you in half the second that he got those ropes off. It was like teasing a tiger in a zoo: people only felt brave enough to do it because there was a thick glass between them. “You better do it, then,” you told him. 

After everything you had put him through, Jungkook seemed almost hesitant to do so. “C-Can I move?” He asked, just to be sure. Last thing he needed was to do something wrong and have you walking out on him. His cock was so hard, leaking inside you, and he didn’t believe that he could handle being left like that. 

“Of course,” you told him, the tenderness of your voice so different from what you sounded like all night. Jungkook was still on the palm of your hand, but your victory when it came to making him beg had already been achieved. So you could relax and let him do the heavy lifting for once. Being active was exhausting sometimes. “Come on, Kook,” you egged him on, leaning forward so you could find support on his chest. You knew what was coming. “Fuck me.” 

That seemed to be the last spark he needed to ignite his fire because, soon enough, he was placing both feet on the mattress and thrusting upwards, your body collapsing forward under the force of his movements. Jungkook barely gave you any time to breathe: he fucked you fast and deep, helped by the gravity of your weight above him; shallow breaths and noisy whines leaving his mouth in a beautiful cacophony of sounds. It wasn’t long before he was making you bounce on his cock, pretty moans melting upon your lips as you fought to keep your balance over him. 

“B-Baby,” Jungkook stammered, an airy, high-pitched moan sounding from his parted mouth. His brain was utterly bewildered by the movement of your body above his own, the bouncing of your breasts and the wild fluttering of your eyelashes. And those moans, those gorgeous, ethereal little sounds that you reserved just for him. “S-So perfect. All mine.” 

“All yours,” you said promptly, struggling to meet his gaze. No matter how much you tried, you could not follow the speed of his thrusts, so you simply kept your body in place as he used it as he pleased. “Is this what you wanted?” 

He nodded, mouth falling open. His lips were pouty and swollen, slightly red from the way he had bitten them before. “Wanna cum,” he breathed out, “inside you.” 

No pretty please, you realized. Perhaps it wasn’t your best call to ask him to fuck you, because it dawned on you that you had just handed Jungkook his esteemed control back on a silver platter. That started simply as a doubt in the corners of your mind, however, you were sure that you had lost that battle once his needy whimpers started to wash away, instead replaced by the guttural, rough groans that he usually presented to you. 

Not that you truly cared about it: you had already proven your point. 

His head leaned to the side, pressing against his elevated arm. Jungkook was hypnotized by the way that your bodies met, the way you held yourself up so he could fuck himself inside you. You were always so good for him. “Your pussy feels so fucking amazing, baby,” Jungkook moaned out, hips snapping up against yours. A hiss dripped from his mouth when he felt you clench around him, signaling that you were close once again. “Look so pretty. Made for my cock.” 

“Y-Yes,” you stammered, head falling back. You could feel that familiar tingling at the bottom of your stomach, your orgasm ready to snap once more. Jungkook always fucked you so well, even when his hands were tied up, always left your brain scrambling after the most basic of words. “I’m c-close.” 

Jungkook tried once more to pull at his restraints, but it simply wouldn’t bulge. The contrast between the red ropes and the dark ink decorating his skin was beautiful, the veins of his hands getting thicker as tugged again and again. Jungkook was beyond the realms of reason by that point, struggling like a caged animal because there was nothing else in the world that he wanted more than to touch; to suck your breasts and to fuck you the way he wanted to. “Gonna cum too, baby,” his voice was almost a roar, deep and frustrated. It shot straight up to your core, made you tip over the edge and come down spasming around his cock, your high washing over you. “That’s it, cream my cock,” he praised. In the background of your overwhelmed state, you could feel as his member throbbed inside you, ready to release. “Take everything for me, alright? Wanna fill you up.”  

You barely had any time to nod before he was spilling himself inside you, a long, throaty moan dripping like sin from his lips. Jungkook tried to keep his movements up for a bit longer, delighting himself in the way you winced at the feeling, but even he had grown too tired to continue it. So, at last, he collapsed back against the mattress, sweaty hair falling over his eyes. 

“Get up,” he commanded, breathless. “Let me see it.” 

With shaky movements, you did as he requested, planting one hand on his thigh so you could raise your body. His cock slipped out at the motion, already softening, but his gaze was stuck on the gradual dripping of his cum between your pussy lips. As much as you were used to that specific request, it always made your legs weak when you looked at him during that part — no matter what happened before, Jungkook always had that maniac expression plastered all over his face, like the mere image of his cum slipping out of you was enough to send him into a frenzy all over again. And, most times, it was. 

“Good girl,” his dark stare slowly navigated towards your eyes. His arms were surprisingly still, no longer battling against the ropes, and there was something ominous about that. “Push it back in.” 

Because you didn’t want to anger him any further, you agreed. It was almost impressive how quickly Jungkook was able to take back his control: even with him being immobilized, you were still folding and following his wishes like it was your second nature. “Like this?” You asked, using two of your fingers to stuff his cum back inside. 

“Yeah, just like that.” He breathed out, the final seconds of his exhale morphing into a low growl. “Now, ___,” he called, eyes still glued to your pussy. “Untie me.” 

You almost wanted to go against that, given the way he was about to break you in half, but that wasn’t probably the brightest of ideas. A bit nervous, you moved off his lap and sat down next to him, hands flying to undo the knots. “Hang on,” you requested. From the corners of his vision, you could see Jungkook staring you down, his piercing eyes focused on your face, silently watching you through the curtain of his black hair. At last, you managed to undo the ropes, the thick material falling beside you as Jungkook lowered his arms and started to massage his wrists. “How are your hands? I hope it wasn’t—“

“Lay down.” He interrupted, dry. Your mouth fell shut — none of your usual sarcastic remarks finding their way past the lump in your throat. 

The softness of the pillow was a welcomed sensation, but your body could not relax, not when Jungkook was still looking at the pink marks on his inked skin, thinking about what he was going to do to you. You waited for what seemed like hours until he finally moved around, arms on either side of your head and chest pressed flush against yours. Jungkook’s heat was asphyxiating, his nose bumping against yours as he placed a small, tender kiss on your lips. He was being too calm, you noticed that instantly; still waters with sharks swimming underneath. 

“Silly girl,” he mumbled against your mouth, fingers pressing on either side of your jaw. Jungkook pulled your mouth open, thumb caressing your lower lip as he stared down at you like an arrogant monarch. You felt terribly small, shrinking under his presence. “It’s not my hands that you should be worrying about.” He smirked, and his thumb paused its tender motions on your lip. He sighed. “Now that you had your fun, I’m gonna have mine.” 

~ 

Jungkook was right: his wrists were red the next day. He naively thought that no one would be able to see it through his tattoos, but Taehyung, even in his hungover stupor, had his detective eye ready and noticed the marks right away. There was absolutely no way all his crime documentaries made him such an expert, Jungkook thought, but couldn’t really be sure of it. 

“You know… things like this only make me more curious,” Taehyung said after Jungkook had refused to tell him who had come over the previous night. He was munching on his sandwich like his life depended on it, brows furrowed into a perfect picture of concentration. There was jelly all over his mouth, pulling up the corners of his lips and making Taehyung look like a terrible, discount copy of the joker. “Like, a chick tied you up? Come on, I have to meet someone like that. It’s a matter of, like, survival, some alpha wolf bullshit—“

“Fuck off,” Jungkook cut him short, burying his face on his hands. He was too tired to deal with any of that. “I never want to hear about you or your wolves ever again.”

~

check out the rest of the bad influence collection! 

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[philliamwrites]

SWYAATL 09: The Melancholy Heron Stands

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x fem! Reader

Summary: A sad little “Oh” steals between your lips as the heron disappears behind trees. You turn to finally start patching yourself up when you meet Eren’s thoughtful eyes on you. Instinctively, you take a step back. “What?” “I thought it had looked at you.” “Why would it look at me?” “Well, you are pretty,” Eren blurts. Your breath gets stuck in your throat. “Pretty?” Your ears are playing a trick on you, right? “Uh, yeah.” Eren is visibly panicking. “Pretty fucking annoying.”

Notes: [01] || 08 | 10

○ Masterlist ○ SWYAATL Playlist ○

A/N: thank you so much @samsaurwrites for beta-reading!

head empty, just eren.

Chapter 09: The Melancholy Heron Stands

“I will. Kill you. If we die here, Jaeger!”

You can’t see his face, but when he shouts back, it sounds like he’s barely containing his anger. “This wouldn’t have happened if you had just given me that damn flag!”

“Don’t worry, when we get down here, I will shove it up your—”

But Eren doesn’t get to know where you’ll shove the flag because Reiner swoops in from somewhere and yanks it from where you’ve tucked it into the back of your pants, landing securely on a branch a few feet above your heads. He crouches, looking at you two. And then grins.

“How the hell did you two manage this?” He makes it sound as if you two lumbered the whole forest. And because you are not being punished enough, the universe decides to go the extra mile. You feel the cold glare before you see him, and a moment later Shadis perches against the side of the tree trunk, squinting at you. “Well, look at that! You two sure are the idiot game’s champions! You win this year! Congratulations, scum!”

You hope the wire snaps and you fall. But you’ll take Eren with you.

“Now that is as great a lesson as any! You got yourselves into this fucking mess, now get yourselves out! You do that, I might not have you two clean the latrines later! If you don’t manage it, you gotta wait until the task is done before someone gets you, I don’t give a shit!”

You open your mouth to protest, but Shadis is already zipping off, barking at Reiner to move it. At least he genuinely looks like he would help if allowed, but Reiner just sends you two a mocking salute and a “Good luck,” before disappearing into the woods, the white flag knotted tightly around his waist.

This has to be the worst day ever.

Eren seems to agree. He turns mid-air, locking eyes with you. “Any more bright ideas? How do we get down?”

“We wait for help, obviously. I don’t know about you, but I want to get down here in one piece.” You allow your arms to hang off, feeling something warm run down your elbow.

“Have fun then. I’m not going to wait around here until the sun sets.”

“Why is it so hard for you to sit tight and wait for help?” The warm trickle collects at your fingertips, dripping crimson from your skin. You watch it fall until it disappears. When you put your chin back to your chest, you see Eren staring down at you.

“Why is it so hard for you to get your hands dirty and do it yourself?”

“Because I don’t have a death wish like you do.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve had this already. You’d rather do nothing and then complain about it later.”

His words drop like a cleaver. Something sharp and painful rises up the back of your throat. You swallow it down, squaring your jaw to mask your hurt. You tell yourself not to cry, not at the hands of someone like Eren who ploughs through a field towards his destination without a care for the flowers he tramples on. Who listens in on private conversations meant for the night and darkness only, and butchers your vulnerability with his violent idealism.

You change your mind. Emil would have liked them all, except for Eren.

Now you look up at him as if he is something you’ve found growing beside a toilet. Fighting fire with fire. It looks like you can’t really call Jean stupid for trying that.

“At least my friends don’t go down with me because I’m charging ahead like a bull.”

Even from this distance, you see him rolling his eyes. He makes his argument by ignoring you, lifting his upper body upward to grab onto the wire and pull himself up. He looks like a caterpillar wiggling up the stem of a flower. It gives you a glorious view of how tight his pants hug his firm, solid thighs that strain under the white fabric as he balances himself, and then comes the next observation you didn’t expect to make today: Eren has a nice ass.

You immediately slew away, heat crawling from your chest over your neck up in your face—blood rushing into your head, surely from hanging upside down for the past few minutes.

Slowly, you drag your eyes back to Eren. “Hey, Jaeger!” you call up. He gives a grunt in response, not looking down. It sounds suspiciously like someone who just wants you to shut the fuck up. “I spy with my little eye.”

He groans louder.

“A fucking idiot.”

Now his head whips around. “A little kid would come up with better insults than you.”

“A little kid? Are you talking about yourself?”

“Oh, just shut up. At least I’m not hanging around doing nothing,” he grunts, heaving himself up. The wire shakes as he starts to climb up, giving you another full on display of his ass, his legs—you’ve never really noticed how tight the harness presses against limbs when moving, and wonder how the bruises look on his skin from the friction, if Eren bruises as easily as you and how much shows on his tan skin.

“Yeah, you’re doing a great job of getting us killed!”

“We’d die of starvation and dehydration if we wait like you want.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. They’ll get us in a few hours.”

“And if this was a real mission? If there was no one who’d come to help us?”

“Well, it isn’t.”

“But if it was—”

A crack sounds above your heads, the sound of bones breaking. When the branch gives away, gravity yanks you further down, like a puppet whose strings have been pulled. A flock of birds disperses into the sky, the silence that follows ice-cold water to your scalding anger and something else—another feeling towards Eren that you can’t name. It all extinguishes at the sight of the yawning void beneath you, the hard, solid ground waiting to break your fall.

Your eyes dart up to Eren, and he meets your gaze with an equal rush of fear.

“Truce?” you call up.

Eren nods. “Truce.”

He proceeds to climb up the wire, and is rewarded by another concerning crack that drops you a couple feet towards the ground.

“Stop it, stop it! The branch won’t hold if you keep climbing!”

Thankfully, Eren listens and halts. He looks around frantically, for any way to get down, and finds an adjacent branch nearby. “Do you think you can reach that?” he asks, pointing to the left. It’s too far away for your arms, you can immediately tell. Which only means—

“I’ll swing you towards it and you have to grab it, okay?” He twists his leg around the wire, securing a position mid-air for his body. Then he leans down and grabs the wire that’s holding onto you hard enough that his knuckles turn white. He locks eyes with you. “You can do it, right?”

“Yeah.” You hate how your voice trembles; how big your eyes must look at the fear of the unknown. “Yeah, I can do it.”

Eren holds your gaze for a moment longer, and then his shirt strains when the muscles in his arms flex as he begins to swing you left and right with excruciating strength. The vertigo makes your head spin as the world moves, trees and a sliver of blue passing by. You turn your head to lock your sight onto the branch, arms stretched out to grab at it the moment you’re close enough. Rough bark scratches at your palms but once your hands hold onto it, you don’t let go. Eren makes a triumphant sound when you latch onto the branch like a tick to a leg, and, grunting, you heave yourself up onto it, throw your free leg over it until you’re secure, until your rapidly beating heart calms down to a steady cadence.

Half of your wire is still entangled with Eren’s. You draw a blade to cut it off, as that is easier than trying to untangle it and end up making everything even worse. Now finally free, leg throbbing as blood rushes back into it, you stare up at Eren and one thought sneaks up, holds you in custody and persists: You could leave him.

You could leave him, go back to the mission and still win to gradt you and the others the most points. Connie would stay at the Top Ten, Mina would rise in rank and Eren would drop. He doesn’t need it as much as Mina does. If she manages to stay up, she could have a safe life in the interior. You could just leave him. Punish him for being the reason for this situation in the first place; punish him for the words he’s said that cut deeper into you than any knife.

He must read it in your expression. His green eyes wide, lips tight, Eren begins to struggle. “[Name]—”

“Don’t move!” Or else he’s really going to get himself killed. “I’m gonna go up and see where you’re stuck. Maybe I can pull you up!”

Manoeuvring with one hook is much harder, but you distribute your body weight accordingly, climbing up the tree until you find branches crossing paths with adjacent trees to move along. When you finally find the branch that your loose wire and Eren’s have twisted around, the sight of the half-broken branch churns your stomach.

“I got it!” you call down, sounding more sure about what you’re doing than you feel. You don’t know how to get him up, and aren’t sure if your one wire can hold you both at the same time. Maybe you can lower him enough to cut the wire, but just one look is enough to tell you that it will be nearly impossible to find out where to even begin to untangle it.

Your wire has to hold you both, then. There is no other way.

You rappel down until you’re at his height and tell him that much. When you offer him your hand, the other still holding your blade to cut him loose, Eren just stares at it for a long moment as if you’ve grown an additional finger, but then his warm, big hand engulfs yours in a vice-like grip.

“Ready?” You lock eyes with him.

Eren has gone rigid all over, stiff as a bar of iron. “Ready.”

You cut the wire, arm already burning as you carry Eren’s weight, and pray your own holds out as long as possible. The descent is slow, careful. You’re both silent as you release and lock your wire every few moments, feet planted against the side of the tree for some support. Your thighs burn from exertion, shake with every metre you drop. Whenever your foot slips, Eren makes a strangled noise that doesn’t help focusing on the task at hand at all.

“Do me a favour,” you say, feeling sweat trickle down your temples, “and be quiet.”

“I just hope the hook doesn’t detach—”

Snap it goes as the hook detaches. You’re too surprised to scream or swear as howling wind tears at you, but through it all you don’t let go of Eren’s hand, clutching it tightly. Don’t ever let go of anyone’s hand ever again.

Eren is shouting something unintelligible, and then he’s trying to pull you in towards him, only to have branches and leaves momentarily catch him. The sudden stop of his fall has your hand yanked out of his, and you reach up. Your hands close on branches. Leaves tear off in your grip. You thud on the ground, hard, your hip and shoulder striking packed earth. Sucking the air back into your lungs, you roll over. You’re just beginning to sit up when someone lands on top of you, knocking you backward. A forehead bangs against yours, your knees banging against someone else’s. Tangled up in arms and legs, you cough hair that isn’t yours out of your mouth and try to struggle out from under the weight that feels like it’s crushing you flat.

“Nice catch,” Eren says in your ear, his tone breathless. He levers himself up on his arms that cage your head, and looks down at you, face flushed from the adrenaline rush, his pulse beating at his throat. You can see a bit of blue sky and the green crowns above his head, the same colour as his eyes—dark and unfathomable.

“You had to open your big mouth.” Your voice is quiet, barely a whisper. Sharp stones dig into your back, the gash on your right arm throbs but all that pain slowly fades into the background at the sight of Eren’s expression turning placid. His eyes dip from your eyes to your lips where they rest for a moment. Almost absently, his hand moves to your face, brushing away stray hair that’s stuck to the corner of your mouth. His fingers are warm and rough when they graze your cheek.

“Are you going to make me shut up next time?” he asks, a teasing tilt to his voice that disappears when his eyes jump to where your throat flexes when you swallow, your mouth suddenly dry.

You think about lifting your own hand and brushing dirt off his scratched up face. You’ve never given much thought if Eren is handsome, but looking up at him, under the canopy of trees his rough-cut beauty is stark and raw. You find yourself drawn inexorably toward him, taking in the curl of his brown hair at the nape of his neck; the strong, stubborn edges of his jawline; the elegant cupid’s bow of his lips. They part slightly as Eren leaves out a soft breath and dips his head towards you, his eyes tracing every angle of your face. Something about the way he looks at you, like nothing else around you exists, makes your heart beat faster and your breaths come shorter.

That feeling you couldn’t name before—like you’re falling again and flying at the same time—makes you afraid.

Eren is about to say something else, but then his brows furrow, eyes still on your throat—no, your neck, you realise as he shifts and sunlight falling through the trees bounces off the gold chain lying warm against your skin. A thin slant of light dances over his face, catches in his right eye and brightens it to the colour of emerald marble; of a late summer’s forest canopy.

He blinks as if he’s slowly waking up from a long dream, and leans back until he’s balancing on the back of his heels. Craning back his head, Eren squints up to consider the height you’ve fallen from. He clears his throat. “All in all, that wasn’t so bad. Even a little fun.”

“Fun?” You prop yourself up onto your arms, watching him rise to his feet. “Remind me to give you a dictionary when we’re back.”

Eren reaches his hand forward, offering to help you up. “Why?”

You take his hand, flinching as hot pain shoots up your injured arm. “So you can look up the definition of ‘fun’.”

The corner of his mouth crooks upward for a second. He’s pulling the levers of his control grips, trying to reel back his wires, but the mechanism of his main housing seems broken. When you check your own gear, it doesn’t look any better.

“There goes our plan to rejoin with our group,” you say, trudging to where the blade has broken off its hilt and pushing it back into your sheaths. “Let’s go back to base and patch ourselves up. Maybe we can fix our gear too.”

“At least we don’t have to clean the latrines,” Eren says. He’s rolling his left shoulder carefully, testing the damage. After giving you a quick glance-over, he’s marching ahead through the underbrush, clearing an easy path for you to follow.

You just hope he knows where he’s going.

There is no reason to doubt though. After walking fifteen minutes in silence—silence that turns from comforting to unsettling because you want Eren to say something at the same time that you don’t want to talk about what the hell just happened between you two—you emerge on the camp side by the river that runs through these woods. Already steering for where you store the supplies to treat wounds, you notice Eren standing frozen, staring out at the reeds on the other side of the river.

There’s something vulnerable in his expression, a longing in his eyes that is too raw, too private for anyone else to see it. When you follow his line of sight, you see a grey heron perching by the riverbed, its long, narrow beak gracing the water, sending soft ripples over its dark surface. It stalks gracefully downstreams, its little amber button-eyes fixed on the water in search of prey, and after finding a good spot, it stands still, wings bristling for a moment, half-spreading them in a beautiful arch before it settles.

There was a poem your mother often read to you, one of her favourites, where now you only remember the first and last three lines.

As slaughter red the long creek crawls From solitary forest walls, Out where the eve’s wild glory falls. Lank spectre of wet, windy lands, The melancholy heron stands; Then, clamouring, dives into the stars.

Melancholy, what a beautiful, fitting word—and maybe that is why you have a hard time looking at Eren. Melancholy is written all over his face, for what, you can’t say. You just know you want to walk over to him, and smooth all the folds and wrinkles of pain away from his face with your thumb.

You hear Jean’s voice on that late spring’s day months ago. “As long as you don’t fall for an asshole.”

And your reply, so cocky, so self-assured, “I won’t,” as you watched a flock of birds rocketing into the sky from behind the gear shack, and Eren Jaeger standing outside the porch of the mess hall, looking after the birds’ flight as well. Envying them for their freedom.

No, no, no, no. This isn’t happening.

Maybe Eren is noticing you freaking out inside. He turns, his face a question mark. Why are you noticing now that he’s sort of looking cute with his brows wrinkling like that? You don’t want to draw any suspicion, so you just blurt the first thing coming to your mind: “You like birds?”

What a great way to start a conversation.

Eren gives you a little funny look, the corners of his mouth twitching. “What’s there not to like? They’re free to go anywhere they want.”

“Yeah.” You look away, back to the bird—anywhere that isn’t Eren’s piercing, emerald eyes. “I think so too.”

Eren hums. If someone had told you weeks ago that you would just stand with him, bird watching, you would have told that person they’re absolutely crazy. But it isn’t bad—this warm, tickling feeling as if ants marched paths on your arms, as if flower petals brushed your skin. Not bad at all.

“Maybe … we can build something that makes us fly someday. A flying machine,” you think out loud. “It would have to work in a way where we don’t need to touch ground, so Titans won’t be able to reach us.”

“A flying machine? That sounds impossible.”

“Improbable, maybe.”

Eren slews towards you, eyes riveting on you. “You’re really weird, you know that?”

You blink slowly. “Uhm … thank you?”

“I mean … sometimes I think I have you figured out, and that you’re not that different from everyone else who wants to live within the Walls forever. But then you say stuff like that …” he trails off, looking back at the heron, and then he says, “I really thought you’d leave me up there.”

You’re silent for a moment. There’s a splash in the river, a fish breaching the surface for a second, only to meet a swift death at the sharp, quick beak of the heron.

“I thought so too.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“What changed your mind?”

You think hard about how you can explain it. In the end, there is no reason to go into too much detail, you decide. “My mind was pretty much made up. There are others who need a good score more than you. But then I just looked at you, and my body moved on its own. Your life wasn’t even really in danger, and I know you’d be back up in the Top Ten anyway. Not that you care about the ranking, but you’re so determined to be good at what you’re doing for the sake of your end goal. I just thought … I just didn’t want to abandon you, that’s all. It wouldn’t be fair. Even though you were the reason we ended up in that situation in the first place.”

Already, you fear you’ve said too much. You shuffle your feet awkwardly, the tip of your boot rooting the dry forest ground.

“Wow.” Your head snaps up at Eren’s voice. He has a hand splayed over his chest. “I think this is the nicest you’ve ever been to me. If I ignore the last part, it actually sounds as if you like me.”

“Well, don’t ignore the last part,” you hiss, feeling a hot, furious flush blossom on your cheeks, spreading over your neck. “’Like’ is a stretch. I tolerate you.”

“No reason to be shy now.” Eren grins. “I guess I don’t hate you either.”

You snort. “Okay. Thanks.”

The intensity of his grin turns down a little. It feels like you aren’t staring into the sun, which is a pleasant feeling. He looks back out at the river, and frowns. When you turn to see what holds his attention, you meet the heron’s level gaze. It stares. Stares. And stares some more, until it lowers its head, almost as if it is bowing. His wide wings span gracefully, and then it lifts off with powerful strokes of its beautiful grey and black-tipped wings.

A sad little “Oh” steals between your lips as it disappears behind trees. You turn to finally start patching yourself up when you meet Eren’s thoughtful eyes on you.

Instinctively, you take a step back. “What?”

“I thought it had looked at you.”

“Why would it look at me?”

“Well, you are pretty,” Eren blurts.

Your breath gets stuck in your throat. “Pretty?” Your ears are playing a trick on you, right?

“Uh, yeah.” Eren is visibly panicking. “Pretty fucking annoying,” he adds quickly.

“You can be such a gentleman,” you say, turning away before he can see your face go up in flames. Behind you, you hear him exhale audibly, as if he has just averted a crisis.

You cross the camp to the supply bag and lay on the ground everything that you need: fresh water, bandages, sterile gauze pads, scissors, herbal antibiotic cream. Eren finally trudges over when you take off your military jacket and find your sleeve half-torn, the fabric stained a dark copper. Giving the fabric one good, hard yank, your mouth twisting downward at the sharp pain, it rips off and exposes an ugly gash on your upper arm. The scratches don’t go deep, but it’s a bigger wound than you’d hoped for, the skin peeled back and open. You soak a clean cloth in water and carefully dab the dirt and dried blood off your skin, gritting your teeth. Now that the adrenaline rush is gone and you’ve settled down, the pain is like hot iron against your skin.

“Here.” Eren takes the cloth from your hands and sits cross-legged in front of you. “Let me do it.”

You lean back instinctively, eyes narrowed into knife-thin slits. “You aren’t exactly field paramedic material, you know.”

“I can take care of a wound.”

“I’ve seen you use your own spit to clean a cut on Mikasa’s cheek.”

“Yeah, we always did that as kids. What’s the problem?”

“Just keep your body fluids to yourself.”

Eren snorts, holding your arm almost gently as he cleans the wound with precise, careful strokes. You try not to stare too much at his face, to think too much about the close proximity as he leans forward, eyes swiping over your wound so that it almost feels like a physical touch.

When he’s done bandaging you up, you hate to admit that it’s a decent enough job. For him. Though he didn’t have to knot the bandage that tightly.

“See, all good.” He beams like a little kid that’s presenting his mother a drawing he’s spent hours on.

“Yeah, I’m a little surprised you didn’t take my arm off.”

“Maybe I should take your arm off next time for all that attitude you’re giving me.”

You roll your eyes. “Let me help you too.” You reach for the small satchel with pre-cut patches. “For that nasty cut on your face.”

“What cut—”

Eren doesn’t get to finish his sentence when you slap the patch over his mouth, sealing it shut. His face falls blank with genuine surprise, comedic almost—you can’t help it and laugh.

He just stares at you for a good minute, his eyes flitting from your half-open mouth that’s curved into a crescent moon, the dimples folded into your cheeks as if left by a potter’s hands. He rips the patch off and throws “Smartass” at you, but it’s lacking his usual heat. You’re already on your feet and gone before he can throw something physical at you next judging from the red flush on his face.

The trees sway, and a moment later Shadis and the other cadets emerge from the woods, some looking worse for wear than others. Judging from Connie, Samuel and Mina’s faces, you’re pretty sure your group did not win.

“Look at that, the clowns have actually managed to get down!” Shadis barks. He whips out his note board and scribbles something on it, his mouth cutting a sharp, jacked line across his face that—yes, if you would’ve guessed, looks almost pleased. “Now get moving and clear the camp, it’s time to get back! If you lost something let me know now before you get caught in the woods with your dick in your hands!”

The cadets move. When Jean passes you, he gives you a nasty smirk, wiggling the white flag in your face. You consider snatching it and throttling him with it.

“Sir,” Daz’s tentative voice shakes harder than aspen leaves in high wind. “Sir, Cadet Wagner is missing his tarp, Sir.”

Slowly, Shadis turns and sets his heavy gaze on Daz. His eyes scream murder. “Ask me if I give a fuck, recruit!” He stomps away, shaking his head. Clearly, he was not serious before. Daz’ lower lip quivers. In a tiny voice, he says, “Sir … do you give a fuck?”

Across the clearing, you catch Eren’s eyes, sparking into a bright green from mirth, and when he grins, you grin back.

❀❀❀

Mina hands you a wet towel to wipe off the sweat and dirt clinging to your body in a thin sheet. As you brush the scratchy rag over your arms and shoulders, you watch the boys wrestle. Their shirts, taken off a while ago because of the smothering summer heat, lie in a crumpled heap on the side; their flexing backs and tensed arms glisten from sweat, the last year of training etched into the corded muscles as they fight. You are in no hurry to turn away your appreciative gaze from Reiner’s broad back, from Connie’s sharp v-line disappearing under his pants.

When you’d sparred with Mikasa earlier and she’d thrown you all over the place like no one’s business, it was hard to meet her sincerely concerned eyes when she asked if you’re doing okay.

Better than okay, you’d thought. But I can’t tell you all I’ve been focusing on is your sixpack, Mikasa.

Instead, you’d asked if she didn’t feel too warm still wearing that scrubby, red scarf around her waist, and if she’d wanted to take it off. The reaction was instantaneous. Her face banged shut like a door, you standing on the other side as a storm hit. Her simple “No,” was as cold as it was dismissive, and you understood that you had overstayed your welcome and that her scarf carries an emotional weight with it.

Next time you get the chance, you’ll apologise—if she allows you this close ever again without running a blade through you.

Drinking from the water flask as if you’ve never tasted anything more delicious, you notice Armin shuffling about. He’s the only one still wearing a white shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the fabric sticking to his back. It looks anything but comfortable. You give Mina back the flask and stroll over to him.

“Don’t you want to lose the shirt, Armin?” you ask. He used to flinch whenever someone other than Mikasa or Eren talked to him, but that jumpiness has dissipated lately. Only the frantic movement of his eyes—anywhere that isn’t the cleavage of your low-cut tank top—is a clear indicator he’d rather not talk right now.

“No, no. I’m good.” He swipes his forearm over his forehead. “Besides, I—I don’t have anything to show off like the other guys.”

“It isn’t a competition,” you say, and because it’s summer, and summer makes you bold, you curl a finger into the fabric of his shirt and yank it out of his pants, peeking at a sliver of a pale, taut abdomen. Armin yelps, stumbling back and stuffing his shirt back, his face charmingly crimson. You grin. “Doesn’t look too bad to me.”

Armin mumbles something under his breath. You wonder if he’s ever outright cursed.

A sharp, short whistle sounds. Multiple heads turn, like a pack of hounds scenting prey in the air. An instructor is approaching. Armin and you immediately gravitate towards each other, squaring off. Staring each other down, you notice Shadis stalking around out of the corners of your eyes, ever attentive and on the hunt for recruits slacking off.

Armin’s eyes are on you only. A drop of sweat trickles down his temple, and he raises his arm to swipe it off.

You lunge, tackling him down with your arms circled around his slim waist. His body hitting the ground first cushions your fall, and swiftly you catch his wrists, pining his hands above his head. His baby-blues are wide open as you settle on his hips. “I win.”

“I thought this wasn’t a competition,” Armin says quietly. Again, he’s putting visible, excruciating effort into maintaining eye contact, and not allowing his sight to dip down.

“You did get a better score than me in the last test about Wall Defences.” You let go of his wrists and ease your weight off his body, allowing him to prop himself up on his elbows. “All because you snagged that book I wanted.”

His smile is part wry, part sheepish. “I can give it to you.”

“You two better get a room when you do.” Jean’s voice is suddenly there. You startle, jumping off Armin’s lap who’s scrambling to his feet. Jean towers over you two, looking like he’s as amused as he is disgusted.

“We were talking about books, you freak.” You ignore his outstretched hand and get up yourself. The strap of your harness running up your shoulder has slightly shifted. Jean pushes it back absently, his fingers lingering at the bare skin of your shoulder. “What do you want?”

To your surprise, it is Eren who answers, trudging behind Jean. “It’s time to switch partners,” he announces. He is all taut cord and lean muscles: sinewy enough to be strong, yet slim enough to slip through his opponent’s fingers. Here and there criss-cross white slashes his flesh—scars from training, scars that all of you bear to some extent.

You quickly look away before he catches you staring. “Well, Armin and I have just started. And we were having a conversation, so why don’t you find someone else?”

“A conversation about books.” Eren says the word as if the very thought of them bores him to death. “Which doesn’t really do it for me. They don’t tell you how to win a fight.”

“How shocking that you aren’t interested in reading,” you say dryly, earning a whack from him you only dodge because you use Jean as a human shield. He squeals like a cat that’s tail got stepped on.

“Well, books can be loud, if you know how to listen to them,” Armin pipes up.

“Books,” Eren says, “are only loud if you slam them aggressively to make a point.”

“Here ye,” Jean says to everyone’s surprise, even his own judging from the shocked look that wipes his face blank, only to settle back into a scowl. He brings the conversation back on track. “Switching partners. I wanted to ask Mikasa, but she’s already busy with Christa, so I’m taking Armin.”

You open your mouth.

“Not that way.” Jean immediately shuts down your attempt at feeding him a taste of his own medicine.

“Do I get a say in this?” asks Armin, still sitting on the ground.

“You could have a go at Victor.” Jean nods across the field where Victor is currently sitting under the cool shade of an oak, ripping out bundle after bundle of grass. Even from this distance, you can see the dark bruises under his eyes as if someone’s smudged coal onto his skin. You don’t remember if you’ve ever seen him slouching like this before.

“Isn’t he acting weird lately?” Armin notes, and there’s this distant tone in his voice you’ve come to learn that means his thoughts are running a mile ahead.

“Weird how?” Jean squints into the distance at Victor. “Because he hasn’t killed anyone else?” His tone is light, his words clearly meant as a joke. But you see him tapping his foot, his nervous tick whenever he’s trying to calm himself.

 But Armin isn’t looking at him. He’s breathing as if he’s been running. You can see the sweat shimmering on the sharp divide of his collar bones visible under his unbuttoned shirt, sticking his hair to his temples. He springs to his feet, pulling Jean after him. “Come on. Let’s spar.”

Surprised by his sudden assertiveness, Jean simply follows, and you look after them until you realise Armin has chosen a spot close to where Albert and Edmund are goofing around. You have to make sure to ask him about that later.

You turn away, heading back to Mina when Eren steps into your path. He asks, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Getting a partner that’ll give me an actual chance at winning.” You’ve seen how much he’s grown and evolved, how much he’s become a feral animal in hand-to-hand combat—invictus and undefeated, the only contester to his skills Annie and Mikasa who can’t even equate because if Eren is an animal in sparring, these two are monsters.

“Nice try.” He hooks a finger around one of your belt loops and pulls you after him. “But I’ll make sure you’ll actually learn something.”

Digging your heels into the ground serves no reward except planting face first into the ground, so you follow him begrudgingly. “Has anyone told you,” you hiss, feeling his knuckle brush against your clothed hip bone, “that you are tenacious?”

“Thanks.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“Anything can be a compliment if you take it as one.”

He leads you to a secluded area where no other cadets have strayed and gets into position. You guess you can indulge him for the time being, relaxing your feet a shoulders-width apart, your hands curled into loose fists. You jab half-heartedly at him—it’s just impossible to get into it when you feel like you’re dancing inside a furnace, like the heat has weight and it’s pressing onto you from everywhere in all the wrong ways.

Eren doesn’t seem to care. It’s like his body is on autopilot with no regards for his surroundings. He drives forward, aiming to throw you off your feet. You tippytoe to the side, remembering what Annie had recommended when you had walked past her as she was offering Mina some advice after she’d asked Annie multiple times.

“Be quick and swift on your feet. Keep your steps short and your wit sharp. Don’t get grabbed. Strike at the very moment your opponent doesn’t pay attention. If you can’t fight with your strength, use everything else at your disposal to win, even if that makes you a bad guy.”

Keeping her words in mind and focusing on Eren at the same time takes its toll. He lashes out, hits your upper left harm with a mean punch that has you grunting. That will turn into an ugly bruise by this evening, you’re certain. Not that Eren’s all unscathed himself. Whoever he’s sparred with before—and bless his heart, but you doubt it was Jean—did a great job landing some good hits and painting a canvas of purple and blue across his abdomen and arms.

Seems like that answers your question. He does bruise easily.

“You are,” Eren says, snatching your wrist. His foot connects with your ankle, and you brace against the hard hit you know will come once he wrestles you to the ground. But Eren keeps holding your wrist, and you’re strangely bent backwards over his leg. If he lets go, you’ll fall. “Distracted,” he finishes. “What’s on your mind?”

You.

You sink your teeth into your lower lip, not missing how Eren’s eyes drop to your mouth. With your free hand, you swing around and grab his arm, and push your finger as hard as you can into a purple blooming bruise right under his elbow.

And Eren, Eren Jaeger, does the thing you expect the least. He moans.

It’s quiet, you could easily confuse it with a stifled groan as he tries to hold back showing how much it hurts. But this. His eyes fly wide open. Annie’s voice rings clear in your head. “If you can’t fight with your strength, use everything else at your disposal to win, even if that makes you a bad guy.”

You hook your arm around his elbow and push, going full circle and you can feel the breath knocked out of his chest as you land on top of Eren and he lies with splayed limbs under you. For a long moment, you two stare at each other as you settle on his hips. And then you throw up your arms and whoop in loud excitement and delight.

“I got you!” you shout, jumping up to your feet. Eren’s hands, on their journey up to your thighs, fall limp back to his side. He doesn’t share your enthusiasm, so you pull him up until he sits, shaking his shoulders to make him understand. “I. Got. You. Jaeger!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He slaps your hands away, turning his head in a different direction. You can see a muscle jump in his clenched jaw. “You don’t have to tell me.”

You jump back on your feet, doing a little happy-dance. “I beat your ass!”

“And that makes the score what?” he asks, getting up. Crossing his arms over his chest like a little, sulking boy. “One to five hundred?”

“Aw, don’t be such a sore loser,” you tease, flipping the tip of his nose with a finger. He quickly snatches your wrist, squeezing once in warning.

“Careful.”

“You mad? Why are you mad?” You look around, hoping someone saw it and if nobody did, you’ll gladly tell them the whole story in detail. “Wait, I have to tell someone. Jean or Reiner, or even better Mikasa—”

He spins you around so fast it gives you vertigo. Pinning your arm behind your back, he slaps his other hand over your mouth and shuts you up. Your back is flush against his bare chest as he hooks his chin over your shoulder, his breath fanning hot over your cheek. “You keep getting distracted. Now, I got you.”

Oh, he really is a sore loser. You’re sure he can feel your grin against his palm. You open your mouth and bite him, trying not to think of the taste of his sweat, his hot skin on your lips.

“Fucking ow.” He pushes you away, not too hard, but you still stumble a little. “What are you, twelve?”

“No one’s ever said biting is off limits.”

“If you’re trading punches behind the elementary school maybe.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t you want to praise me? I won fair and square.”

“Do it a second time and I might tell you you did a good job.”

You shouldn’t accept a challenge from him. Bargaining with Eren is like bargaining with the devil and you’ll come out short. But the temptation, it’s hard to resist. You’ve always been competitive, and you enjoy this, you realise. This little game of cat and mouse, except you both think you are the cat.

“Okay,” you say, curling your hands into tight fists. “I’ll make you cry, Jaeger.”

Eren grins. He crooks a finger at you, making a come-here-motion. “We’ll see who’ll be crying by the end, [Last Name].”

❀❀❀

Cold, early-autumn wind whips dry leaves into your face as you race down the cobblestone pavement towards the lecture hall. Jean laughs at you as you whack at them, until one slaps him right across the face, shutting him up. You manage to squeeze through the classroom’s half-closed door just before the bell goes off and the lecture starts.

Cusk only acknowledges you briefly, like a wolf would when it sees a cockroach crawl by, before he begins his instructions: “As is custom when recruits reach the end of their first year, the Wasteland Excursion takes place. You will be split into two groups, as written on the blackboard. You will make a round trip to your target location and record your progress within a given time period. The journey to the destination goes on for about forty kilometres.

“Both teams set out at the same time and proceed towards the forest. There you will trade information at the target location and return to the starting point, completing a loop. The objective of this exercise is to evaluate everyone’s ability to sustain yourselves in the absence of a crisis, to test your vigilance in low risk-situations. There will be no instructor. We will evaluate your performance according to the records kept by the responsible recruits. Any questions?”

Connie’s hand flies up. “Will the evaluation have any weight on our overall score?”

Cusk gives him a long, levelled look. “No. You either manage to keep up or you don’t. Extra effort won’t be taken into evaluation.”

You feel Jean sag into his seat, immediately taking on a petulant slouch. “Then why are we doing this shit in the first place,” he mumbles.

The lesson proceeds without any disturbances, Cusk gives a repetition of Horse Movement throughout the night, until Connie answers a question correctly, and Victor kicks the back of his bench.

“Awesome,” Jean hisses behind his book. “That’s really cool behaviour. Congratulations, Victor. Every time someone answers a question wrong, you say it’s because they can’t rise to the level of the Military Police and the elite. And every time one of us answers a question right, you punish them. I have to admire your consistency.”

Marco leans back against the bench, feeding Jean his next line. “I don’t see how that’s consistent, Jean.”

“Well, he’s consistently an asshole,” Jean explains.

“I can think of a few other words for him,” you remark. “But some of them cannot be used around little children.”

Victor looks upset. Possibly, he is upset that your bench is too far away to kick.

After what Armin had told you after the sparring training in summer, you’d thought maybe Victor was about to come around. Clearly, Victor didn’t.

Armin had listened in on conversations between Albert and Edmund, who’d taken on a somewhat cautious stance towards their friend after what had happened with Jonathan. They had spoken about letters arriving for Victor, written by his father, and with every new one that dropped by the Postal Office, he’d grown more and more restless, until his viciousness returned with a sharp vengeance towards everyone doing better than him in tests.

“Do you think his father is threatening him even more than before?” you’d asked when Armin had sat next to you on the porch of the mess hall, his feet dangling off the edge and an open book balancing on his lap.

He’d looked out over the track field, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek. Recently, you’d noticed that whenever he got nervous, he picked on skin around his fingernails. “I do,” he’d said. “But there is only so much time I’m willing to spend on people who don’t want to get helped.”

“You make it sound as if Victor has a choice.”

The corner of his mouth had pulled up in a rueful smile. His eyes had been almost sorrowful. “Don’t we all?”

Later. Much, much later, you will come to mourn the loss of that Armin.

That Armin who still believed people always had a choice.

❀❀❀

As intended, the exercise wasn’t supposed to be that difficult. If they had left the forest, eventually everyone would come back.

That was their only instruction.

You might hate me for trading one life for yours, but it was no difficult choice for me. I would do it again and again, if only it meant you were alive and safe. And while it would kill me to bear your scorn, it would still be a lesser punishment than not having you around, for you were, and always have been, the key to freedom.

○ buy me a coffee if u enjoyed it ○ ao3 ○

taglist: @arisu003

A/N: The poem is Heron by Madison Julis Cawein

i ship reader and eren's foreheads

NEXT CHAPTER AOT OVA EP 3 BUT MAKE IT DARK LET'S GOOO

[skyeet-the-writer]

The Love Among Us

Chapter 1-- I’d Never Snitch On Daddy

so i haven’t seen many corpse husband x reader stories on here, so i decided to upload one myself. i’ve been watching jacksepticeye’s among us videos and when i heard corpse talk for the first time, i was like, “hol up” and now i’ve been obsessed with him. also, go stream his music on spotify, it’s amazing. enjoy! x. 

 corpse husband x female!reader

summary: while playing among us, y/n watches corpse kill felix in o2. when his body is reported, however, she doesn’t tell who killed him. 

 word count: ~3.6k

warnings: swearing, mentions of death (not real death), mentions of murder (not real murder)

EDIT: before i wrote this and after i published it, i did not know that corpse did not like to be referred to as “daddy”. had i known this, i would have not even thought of posting this. and since i know now, i won’t refer to him as such in the future. thank you. (10/19/2020)

EDIT 2: this is the first part to my corpse x reader series. i will be adding chapters as we go!

next>

4 rounds before the incident

“I was in coms with PJ!” Sean exclaims. 

“He is doing the liar voice!” Felix shouts with a laugh. 

“I’m not,” Sean tries to say, but everyone talks over him and the voting time ends. Everyone left alive, though it was only four people, had all voted for him and he yells at them as he gets ejected. 

stinky was not the imposter

2 imposters remain

The round ends and everyone unmutes themselves. 

“Lizzie, you saw Felix kill me and you did nothing!” Roomie yells as soon as the round ends and the imposters are revealed. 

“Yeah, because I was the other imposter.”

“Oh. Okay, well that makes sense.”

Everyone laughs and Ken starts the round again. 

“Wait, can I invite y/n to play? She’s doing her twenty-four-hour stream and she just finished playing Monopoly with Mark, Bob, and Wade,” says Lizzie, looking down at her phone as they all appear back in the waiting room. 

“Yes,” Corpse blurts out and there are a few laughs and chuckles. 

“You were quick to answer, Corpse,” Sean teases. 

“Shut up,” Corpse mumbles and there are even more laughs. 

Lizzie smiles and taps into her phone. “I’m gonna invite her.”

~

“I can’t believe that you actually made that deal, y/n,” Wade is telling you after ending the second round of Monopoly that you’ve played with them. 

You smile and cross your legs on your chair. “Look, I was going bankrupt and it seemed good at the time. Besides, Mark was going to win anyway, he owned half of the board.” Your phone buzzes beside you on your desk and you pick it up. “Lizzie texted me.” There’s a sound effect that plays in your headset and you look up at your screen and smile. “Thanks to _lorieplays _for donating a hundred dollars, that means a lot. Thank you so much.”

“Do you want to play another round?” Marks asks. 

You shake your head, reading the text from your friend in England. “No, I don’t want to lose to you again.” You laugh. “Nah, Lizzie wants me to play Among Us with her and a few others. It was fun playing with you guys.”

“It was even though you took all of my money,” Bob snaps. 

You laugh. “Yeah, yeah. See you guys later.”

“Bye,” says Mark.

“See y--” Wade begins but you cut him off when you disconnect from the call. 

“Oops.” You put a hand over your mouth and laugh. “Sorry, Wade. Okay.” You straighten up and glance over everything, making sure it’s all working properly. “I have to pee and I think my roommate ordered pizza, so we’ll be back after this short break. Enjoy this live feed of my pet rats.” You giggle and switch the stream over to a view of your two rats in their cage where you have a camera set up. You take your headset off and head out of your recording room. 

Every two months, you have a twenty-four-hour livestream where you play games with your friends from all around the world. Despite being only twenty-five, your Youtube channel had grown exponentially in the past three years and you’ve had the chance to meet lots of other Youtubers like Markiplier, PewDiePie, and your close friend, LDShadowLady. 

Currently, you’re on hour twenty of twenty-four and you’re beginning to feel the effects of not sleeping for a whole day. You had been drinking coffee and energy drinks for the past four hours and that seemed to perk you up for two hours max. But your roommate had ordered pizza and that would hopefully wake you up. 

After going to the bathroom and grabbing an entire box of pizza, you return to your recording room and sit down. You put your headset back on and eat a slice of pizza before switching the views back to you. “And we’re back. I hope you guys enjoyed my rats because I don’t. They keep me up at night.”

You read a comment while loading up Among Us and laugh. “No, they’re not dead. They’re sleeping. They do that a lot when they’re not fighting.” 

When you finally get into the game and entire the code, you spawn in. You also quickly join the Discord chat and wince when nearly ten voices hit you at once. 

“y/n!” exclaims Lizzie and the other voices die down for a moment before rising to greet you. 

You wince again but laugh. “Jesus, you guys are loud. Hey, Lizzie.” You move your character to the customize tab and go to try and switch your color. But then you frown and realize that you’re stuck with being dark blue. “Damn, I wanted to be white.”

“Do you want to switch?” Corpse asks. 

Your eyes widen you your stomach flips. You hadn’t noticed Corpse was in this game. Immediately, your chat became flooded with keyboard smashing and lots of “omg my shipp” and “y/n rlly said ‘anna oop-’” 

“Uh, yeah, if you don’t mind,” you manage to stutter out and take a bite of pizza as Corpse’s player comes over and the white option becomes available. You select it and also select the goggles in the hats menu. 

“How’s your stream going?” asks Sean. 

You shrug. “Pretty good. I’m super tired, though. I literally almost fell asleep while playing Monopoly with Mark, Wade, and Bob.”

“You went to college, right?” You’re pretty sure that’s Roomie. 

“Yep,” you affirm with a nod even though they can’t see you. “You’d think that those all-nighters writing papers and studying for finals would make me able to do this.”

There’s a laugh in the group and the round starts.

3 rounds before the incident

You scratch your eyebrow and sigh in relief when you’re the crewmate. You mute yourself and slide up in your chair. 

“I like being the crewmate,” you say, heading towards admin as a habit. “It’s a lot less stressful than being imposter.”

After doing your tasks in admin and fueling the engines, you stumble across a dead body in the lower engine and a vent closing. 

“Oh,” you say, and press the report button. You unmute yourself and begin with, “So I saw a vent close but I didn’t see who went in.”

“Who died?” asks Lizzie. 

“Felix,” says Sean. 

You smirk. “It’s always yellow that dies first.”

“Where was the body?” Ken asks. 

“Lower engine,” you reply. 

“I was in medbay with Corpse doing the scan so it wasn’t him,” PJ says and Corpse makes a noise of confirmation. 

This makes your cheeks heat up and you smack a hand over your mouth. Your chat explodes again but you decide to ignore it. 

“And I was doing wires in cafeteria,” Lizzie says. 

“Sean, where were you?” 

“I was in reactor doing the simon says thing,” he answers. 

You sigh. “I hate that one. What about you, Ken?”

“I was with Roomie in electrical doing the power thing. You know, the one where you have to divert it somewhere else.”

“So do we skip then?” asks Lizzie. 

“No one is super sus, so I’m going to skip,” you answer. 

When no one is ejected, you mute yourself again. “I dunno why, but Sean seems pretty sus. Because I didn’t see him on the way down from upper engine. But I guess he could have gotten there in time.” You shrug and run over to the trash chute in the cafeteria. “RIP to Felix, though.”

After doing the trash there, you head down to storage, running into Corpse doing the wires in there. You wait there to clear him and once you do, you run a few circles around him to get his attention and he follows you over to the trash in storage and watches you do that. After that, the two of you head over to electric together and do wires there. 

Suddenly, there’s a body reported and you unmute yourself. 

“Sean just killed Lizzie in front of me!” exclaims PJ. 

“PJ killed Lizzie,” Sean retorts, flipping the blame. “I watched it, he didn’t realize I was there and murdered her.”

“I watched PJ do the scan in medbay, he’s cleared,” Corpse says and you find yourself smiling for no reason. “Sean, you killed Lizzie.”

“I knew he was sus,” you say, grabbing another piece of pizza. You look at the box and your eyes widen. Had you really already eaten half of it?

“Wait wait, how am I sus?” Sean asks. 

You take a moment to swallow. “Because when I was doing fuel earlier, I was running down from upper engine and didn’t see you in reactor. Sure, maybe you could have gotten there earlier, but it was super weird.” 

The discussion time ends and PJ immediately goes to vote for Sean as well as you, Corpse, and everyone else still alive. Sean ends up getting ejected. 

stinky was an imposter 

1 imposter remains

“You’re such a detective, y/n,” Sean says when he gets ejected. 

You laugh. “I just play this game too much.” You then mute yourself and smile. “I am a genius.” 

You end up finishing your tasks quickly after that and then stand in the cafeteria and eat another piece of pizza and read some of the chat. 

“’ What am I going to do after this?’ I don’t know. I might play some Minecraft. Should I have a poll on Twitter? I’m stuck between public Among Us games, Minecraft, and taking random quizzes on Buzzfeed.” You smile and hear another sound effect and something pops up on the screen. “Thank you to coochie man for donating a hundred dollars, that means a lot.” You laugh at their name. “I love your name, by the way.” 

There’s some rattling in the cage behind you and you turn around to see one of your rats drinking water. You turn back to the chat and read another comment. “’ Do you have a crush on Corpse?’” You blush and smile, biting your lip. “I mean, his voice is hot. I’ve never met him since he lives in San Diego and I live in h/t, but yeah, I guess I do. I’ve been listening to his music for the past few days and it’s really good, you guys should go check it out.”

You look up and unmute yourself when a body is reported. “Who died?” you ask. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Are you already done with your tasks, y/n?” Corpse asks. 

God, even the way he says your name is making you blush. “Yeah, I get them done quick.”

“She does that,” says Lizzie, “She always gets her tasks done quick.”

“Ken is dead by the way,” says Roomie and your snort, smacking a hand over your mouth. “I found him in the hallway by navigation. Where was everyone else?”

“I was in cafeteria doing nothing,” you say, leaning back in your chair and spinning around just a little. “I think I saw PJ downloading while I was in there, but I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Yeah, I was downloading,” says Ken. 

After more discussion, Corpse points out that Jaiden had been following him and it looked like she had been faking tasks. 

“No I haven’t,” she says. 

“That sounds like something the imposter would say,” you hum with a smirk. “That’s pretty sus, Jaiden.”

Everyone else agrees and you all end up voting Jaiden out. 

jaiden was the imposter

0 imposters remain

You cheer as the round ends and a blue victory screen pops up for the crewmates. “Good game, guys,” you say and play again, waiting for the host. 

~

1 round before the incident 

“Oh my god, I’m imposter again?” you groan and sigh when you spawn back in. “I was just imposter, I don’t want to be it again. I’m so bad at it,”

After another short round of you and Felix losing to the crewmates, you all agreed to play two more rounds before Sean had to leave. So you move your character to admin where PJ is and fake the card swipe before moving over to the admin security thing where you could see who was around where. Luckily, no one appeared to be near admin, so you quickly kill PJ and escape through the vent and come out through medbay. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” you whisper over and over, running down to storage. “That was clean.” You fake getting fuel and go back up to the upper engine. 

When PJ’s body is reported, you see that your fellow imposter, Sean, had reported it. You stay silent for most of the round and only say that you were in the fuel area when it was reported. 

“Yeah, I saw her run past electrical earlier,” Corpse says. You blush and glance at your exploding chat and shake your head. 

After everyone skips the round, you mute yourself once more and head towards navigation. “I hate this.” You drag the last syllable and watch Lizzie enter the room. You wait a moment before walking towards her and killing her, jumping into one of the vents. You let out a sigh and flex your fingers. “I’m so stressed.” You exit out of the vent into shields and your heart stops when you see someone else in there but you realize that it’s the other imposter, Sean, and you relax. 

You run past him and go to the trash compartments and pretend to unload those. And that’s how the rest of the round goes. You kill someone, someone reports it and you vote someone off. Eventually, you and Sean do a double kill and end up winning the round.

You unmute yourself. 

“Let’s go!” Sean exclaims and you smile. 

“I can’t believe you killed me, y/n!” shouts Lizzie. “I thought we were friends.”

You laugh. “There are no friends in this game. I’m not loyal to anyone in this game. You could be my best friend and I would fucking murder you.”

“That’s cold,” says Roomie as everyone else spawns back in. 

“Yeah,” you nod. 

“Wait, PJ disconnected,” says Sean, and you all end up waiting for him to rejoin. 

In that time, you look at your chat and say, “Hey, do you guys have any questions for who I’m playing with. I’m asking you, chat.”

“I swear if someone asks about my hands, I’m leaving,” Corpse says and everyone laughs. 

You laugh louder when you read a comment and read it aloud, “_Ironlady _says that you should be a hand model, Corpse.”

“Okay, I’m leaving,” you hear Corpse say over everyone laughing. 

“No, stay!” you exclaim, trying not to laugh. “C’mon, don’t leave.”

He sighs deeply and your brain goes fuzzy. “Fine. I’ll stay for you.”

You beam and your tummy turns. You ignore the whistles and remarks from everyone else and stand beside Corpse. You suddenly wish that the little bean characters could hold hands. 

When PJ joins the server again, Ken starts the round and you cross your fingers, hoping to get crewmate. 

0 rounds before the incident

You mute yourself and sigh when you’re a crewmate. “Thank god.” You let out a breath and go over to admin with everyone else. You swipe your card and go to the cafeteria to do some wires there. 

The game turns out to be rather uneventful. A few people die and two people are voted off before the game gets truly interesting. And that happens when you walk in on Corpse and Felix. 

“I’ve had this song stuck in my head for days,” you’re saying, walking from electrical over to O2. “And I can’t get it out of my head. Maybe singing it will help.” You hum the first part. “Don't go in there, you'll become one. Freaky creatures, monster party. Eyes of yellow, scales and feathers, tails in tethers. Turn the lights off. Bend the nightmare, you control it. Artful dodger, easy does it. Shut the closet, get under the covers. Snakes and lovers. Turn the lights off.” You do a little dance for a moment and continue hum the song, glancing at the chat as you go towards O2 after doing wires in storage. 

“Like, I know the song, it’s just been stuck in my head,” you explain. “And it kind of annoys me--”

But you stop as you enter O2 and watch Corpse murder Felix. Neither one of you move and you don’t know what to do. “Uhhh.” 

Then, without thinking, you turn straight around and make your way away from the scene of the murder. “I didn’t see anything!” you shout to no one. “I suddenly can’t see who murdered Felix.” You smack a hand over your mouth and stand in the middle of a hallway. “Oh my god, what do I do? I don’t want to snitch on Corpse, he’s hot.” You scratch the back of your neck and shrug, continuing on to reactor. “I didn’t see anything.”

You’re in the middle of doing the simon says in reactor when Felix’s body is reported. You unmute yourself and fidget with the sleeve of your hoodie. You know exactly who killed Felix. 

“--was in O2,” says Jaiden and you focus back into the conversation. “And I didn’t see anyone around.”

“I saw you heading that way, y/n, but I know it wasn’t you because I saw you do the trash in storage.”

You look at the screen when Sean talks to you and you chew your lip. “I know who killed Felix.”

“Who?” asks almost everyone at the same time. 

You close your eyes and swallow. It’s just a game, why are you taking this so seriously? Suddenly, a song lyric pops into your head and your stomach flips. You imagine yourself saying it and no one knows who you mean except for him. 

You open your eyes. “I’d never snitch on daddy.”

There’s a laugh in the chat and you blush fiercely, your livestream chat blowing up once again.

“I think we know who it is, then,” says Sean, laughing. 

“Yeah,” agrees Lizzie and your eyes widen. 

“Wait, what?” you ask, watching everyone vote almost as soon as the discussion time ends. “Wait, hang on, who--”

“We know who you’re talking about, y/n,” PJ tells you. 

You vote for yourself and your brain goes blank as you see that everyone voted for Corpse. He even voted for himself. They knew. They all _knew _about your feelings for Corpse. 

The round ends with Corpse being voted out and the crewmates win. There’s some talking, but you stay on the victory screen. You’re trying to decide if your mad or embarrassed or both. 

“I didn’t know you’d say that, y/n,” Corpse says, effectively breaking you out of your trance. “I thought you were gonna snitch on me.”

“You heard her,” teases Lizzie and you can tell she’s grinning. “She’d never snitch on you, Corpse.”

He laughs and you feel something in a certain place. “Oh my god, I’m gonna die of embarrassment.” You put your face in your hands, listening to your friends tease you in the chat. You suddenly want to jump out your window and run into traffic. 

“Don’t die,” comes Corpse’s voice through the onslaught of teasing. “I’ll be sad.”

“Fuck!” you shout and slam your hand on your desk, shaking your equipment and scaring your rats. “I’m so sorry, Corpse, that was really weird, I--”

“Stop.” He interrupts you and the chat goes silent and you look up at the screen even though you can’t see him. “It’s okay. It was funny.”

Your eyes widen and then narrow. Funny? He thought what you said was funny? How could he think it was funny?

But then he speaks again and he sounds oddly flustered. “Uh, I gotta go. Um, it was fun playing with you guys. Bye, y/n.”

“Bye Cor--” but then he disconnects and you’re left talking to no one. “--pse.”

There’s a long moment of silence until Felix breaks it. “I can’t believe you just watched me die and didn’t do anything about it.”

There are some laughs and you smile faintly, rejoining the game. “Yeah, uh, sorry about that.”

“Are you okay, y/n?” asks Lizzie. 

You blush and swallow. “I don’t know. God, I’m so weird.” You run a hand through your hair and adjust your headphones

“No, you’re not,” Roomie assures you. “He has a crush on you, too.”

Your eyes widen and you scoot up in your chair. “He does?”

“I mean, he called you pretty once during a game and said that he watches your videos a lot, so maybe.”

You groan and sink in your chair. “I’m gonna go, I need to run into traffic now.”

A few people laugh or chuckle and Lizzie asks you if you’re actually going to leave. 

“Yeah,” you tell her. “But not to run into traffic. I’m going to go play Minecraft to soothe myself.”

“Aw.” You can practically hear her frown. “Okay. Bye, y/n.”

“Good luck with your stream,” Ken tells you. 

You grin. “Okay, thanks, bye.”

When you exit the game and leave the chat, you scream. You actually scream and it’s loud. Your roommate even knocks on your door, asking if you’re okay. 

You look at them and nod. “Yeah, totally fine. Probably about to have a mental breakdown, but I’m fine.”

“Okay,” they say and lean on the doorframe. “But I’m not cutting bangs for you again.”

You laugh and nod. “Yeah, okay, fine.” They leave and you turn back to your stream, feeling like you’re about to cry. Corpse knows you have a crush on him. And it seems like he has one on you as well, but now you’re embarrassed because you called him ‘daddy’ on stream.

You rub your eyes. “Well, now I know what’ll be streaming on Twitter tonight,” you tell the chat. 

[sodadrabbles]

Hey! I really like your writing and was wondering if you could do a request! If not its totally understandable. Could you do a fic where phill and techno find a pheonix hybrid reader (like with the wings and tail) passed out in the snow? I just think it'd be kinda cool, thanks for considering my request!

Ohoho, phoenixes are my favorite mythical bird to mess with! I hope you enjoy this, I had a lot of fun writing it :]

Paring: c!Philza + c!Technoblade x phoenix!Reader (Platonic!)

Rating: Fluffy with a little mention of death.

Summary: You passed out in the snow- What happens when an old man and an anarchist find you? 1.4k words

Cold. That was probably the most simple way you could describe the situation you were in. But it isn’t a simple cold. It’s a freezing wind that pierces your skin with ice and sends a chill down to your bones. You could feel it deep inside you, like a curse or illness. But it was just the freezing arctic winds. You should have been prepared for this situation, you knew it would happen, yet you let yourself wander this far. 

Snow swirled in your vision as the wind whipped against you, freezing and unrelenting. You shiver again and try to curl your wings closer to your body, but the joints where the fiery appendages meet your back ached. You had been flying for too long, and now you have had your wings stretched even longer. The melting heat that usually poured from the ends of your feathers was starting to feel lukewarm at best, and that told you clearly that time was running out.

The arctic just isn’t the place for a phoenix, as warm as their cores might be, the icy arctic can put them out in an instant. It’s unforgiving, it made you question how anyone could live out here. But you had heard the rumors of the two men that lived far away from the Greater DreamSMP, sheltered away in the far snowy tundra. But in your state of ever-growing drowsiness, you couldn’t recall their names. 

You sigh, a tired and heavy sigh, as you finally let your wings rest. The large limbs droop and you can see, at the very tips of your largest feathers, where your fire burns the hottest, your flame could no longer melt the snow under them. Your time had come, though a few days early. But you showed no fear of the process, one you experienced so many times before, as you let your body slump to its knees, before falling forward into the crunchy snow. 

‘I’ll wake up in a few hours.’ You thought to yourself, feeling the now cold wings pressing into your back. ‘Just a little nap for now.’

---

“I just don’t see why I needed to come with you, Techno.” The blonde man huffs, pulling his heavy coat tighter to him. The snow had been picking up fast, the winds howling louder than the pack of wolves Technoblade had adopted. The piglin walking beside him was much less bundled up, the warm blood of his kind seeming enough to keep him warm through the oncoming blizzard.

Techno just snorts in response to his old friend, so unused to the snow, keeping his pace against the freezing wind. He had just been minding his business, brewing some potions when he swore he saw what he could only describe as ‘a column of white-hot fire’ sprout up from distance. It, quite frankly, scared the shit out of him. So, he grabbed Phil and dragged him out to investigate the strange occurrence.

After a few more moments of fighting the harsh weather, the two arrived at where the fire had come from. In its wake lie what was now a puddle, and scorched grass beneath that in the shape of a person. The two men glanced at each other before Techno stepped forward and reached out to touch the grass. Before he could, however, the spot of the grass that was once scorched burst into flames again, ash rising from wherever the fire touched. It swirled in the warm light, moving against the wind to take its shape. Despite how the wind roared the ash moved so calmly and in such a distinct way, forming the silhouette of a person. Of you. 

Once all the ash of your ‘death’ had clumped back into your form, burning red light filled the cracks and sealed the process. You felt your consciousness slip back into place, your memories, your being. You felt the heavy weight of your wings, the light flicking of your birdish tail, and the warm crackle of your fiery feathers.

And then you fell.

You had expected this, and yet as you tensed your muscles in preparation for impact, you found yourself getting caught by two separate pairs of hands. You open your eyes and blink, glancing at the two men now staring bewildered at you. Wait, there are other people here?

You gasp and scramble to push away from the two, but the older one- A blonde wearing a green bucket hat- Held tight onto your shoulder, holding you in place. He spoke, his voice was calming and warm, unexpectedly paternal. “Easy,” he breathed, using his other hand to steady you. “We aren’t gonna hurt you.”

You’re hesitant to comply, but carefully you steady yourself to your feet. You stare at the blonde man, his eyes heavy from many years of living. It surprised you a bit to see another immortal face to face. But as you looked closer you noticed the way the part of his robe that wasn’t torn refused to move with the wind, it hit you. An elytrian. 

You snap out of your thoughts as a gruff voice to your left draws your attention. You glance to see a large piglin standing there, his eyes still wide in shock. He was tall and broad and just standing near him made you feel small. You didn’t like feeling small. Out of instinct, your wings spread out. Not to full length, but enough to calm the anxious feeling of a prey animal being stared down by a predator. You feel the elytrian’s presence disappear from beside you. “What the- Mate, you’re on fire!” He exclaims, staring at the way your feathers spark and crackle like a fireplace. 

Yeah,” you laugh at the elytrian. Had he never seen a phoenix before? “That’s what phoenix wings do.” Your response doesn’t earn any laugh from the two, only more confused stares. The piglin is the first to speak up. “A… Phoenix?” The way he says the word makes you step back. This time the elytrian speaks up. “Aren’t phoenixes extinct?”

You stare at him, eyes wide. Had they really? Sure, it had been a while since you met another of your kind. Phoenixes were not social creatures, they preferred their seclusion and stuck to their own. You just assumed…

“No, clearly not.” You straighten your back and try to puff your wings. You wouldn’t let yourself be intimidated by the two hybrids. “I’m here, so we aren’t extinct.” 

---

After you explain why you were in the arctic in the first place, you managed to earn the two’s names. Philza and Technoblade. You had recognized the two names, you heard stories about the two Anarchists from your friends in the Greater DreamSMP- How Techno had taken down L’manburg twice, and Phil helped him turn New L’manburg into L’manhole. You had admired those stories- Admired the bravery it took to stand up to corruption.

It was the remaining members of L’Manburg that drove you from your home in the Greater DreamSMP- With Tommy building his hotel near your home and being unable to find safety in Las Nevadas with Quackity, you wanted to find somewhere to go where you would be unbothered.

Though you must admit the life you found wasn’t what you expected. Phil allowed you to stay with them in the arctic, after much arguing from Technoblade. So you built yourself a home. You got to meet Ranboo formally- You had seen the ender wandering the Prime Path a few times, as well as near Snowchester. You weren’t too fond of him, but you learned to accept him. 

You finally were able to learn of what happened to your species. Techno had an astounding collection of books. His library was impressive, but he never allowed you inside. He claimed your wings made him too nervous, and that made you laugh. The worries made sense- You once set part of Phil’s house ablaze as he was teaching you how to brew potions. 

Techno had handed you a book with no title, its leather cover stamped with a fiery bird. The piglin watched you as you flipped through the pages- Phoenix hybrids had, in fact, been hunted to extinction a long time ago. You remained to be the only one and would be for the rest of your life. 

And somehow, this didn’t bother you. You found all you needed right here- even closure.

[literallymitch]

𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 || 𝐃.𝐃

requested: no

summary: the first part of the reputation series in which the reader first meets Damiano

pairing: Damiano David x famous!reader

word count: 2k

what kind of content: fluff

warnings: drinking

passages written in cursive are flashbacks

some of the lyrics were changed so they would fit the story

Please don’t steal any of my conten and release it elsewhere. Also all of this is fiction. I don’t know these people in real life nor do I know how they act

a/n I I hope you all enjoy this one, as much as I do. I’m so excited about this series jdhidcuheu. What song do you guys think is next? As always please keep in mind english is not my first language. I’m super happy about feedback!!

With a buzzing head I woke up. I shouldn’t have drank so much yesterday. Feeling the after effects of the alcohol I consumed yesterday, I looked at the sleeping figure next to me. A gorgeous man with brown hair and tattoos that fitted him perfectly. I smiled to myself, knowing he was the reason I probably drank a little too much yesterday. There was no way I would have found the courage to actually talk to him otherwise. He looked like an angel sleeping so peacefully in my queen-sized bed. As I looked at his sleeping figure, an idea popped into my head. I grabbed my notebook and went to my balcony that was connected to my bedroom. Looking at him one last time through the huge window in front of me. I opened my notebook and started writing down some lyrics in memory of last night.

You should take it as a compliment That I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk You should think about the consequence Of your magnetic field being a little too strong

“We wanted to start working on our next album soon too.” , the gorgeous man in front of me said with an Italian accent.

After a few drinks I was finally talking to him. I was too busy taking in his beauty that I didn’t really listen  to what he just said to me. All of a sudden, I started giggling.

“You know, your accent is so funny, I love it. Like the way you pronounce some words? Hilarious”.

“Thanks, I guess?”

I cringed a little thinking about this specific moment. If he knew the only reason I was making a fool out of myself in front of him was his magnificent appearance, he would take it as a compliment. He probably already knew that was the reason. How could he not know? It’s not like he has never looked in a mirror. Also, there is no way, I am the first person that had to suffer from his magnetic self. By now he should know what his whole existence is doing to people.

And I got a boyfriend, he's older than us He's in the club doing, I don't know what You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much (I hate you so much)

“Shouldn’t your boyfriend be here as well?” the beautiful Italian boy asked.

“My wha- Oh you mean Andre? He isn’t my boyfriend. The media just made that up after we went out once, and I was caught at two of his games. We haven't talked in months. He’s probably at some club right now, annoying some poor girl.”

At that moment I thought I’ve seen a small smile appear on his face. He then just turned to the bar tender, ordering another beer. God, how could he just keep his cool like this the whole night. Usually it was the other way around. People would stand drunk in front of me trying to make a move, while I just stood there unimpressed. He really made me feel like an insecure fourteen-year-old girl again, and I hated him for that

Whisky on ice, Sunset and Vine You've ruined my life, by not being mine

“The sunset is really beautiful today” Damiano stated sipping on his glass of Whisky. I nodded in agreement while I ate a grape from the vine that was placed on the bar counter.

The bar were at was on top of a small mountain somewhere outside Rome. From there we had a great view over the whole city of Rome and how the sun met the city's skyline. It really was beautiful, still it was nothing compared to him. I wish he would’ve been mine, so I could’ve rested my head on his shoulder right there and then, but he wasn’t.

You should take it as a compliment That I'm talking to everyone here but you (but you, but you)

“I’m glad we’re finally getting a chance to talk after you talked to, well, everyone else at this bar except me.”, the handsome man called me out while he sat down next to me.”

Feeling a bit caught, I just gave him an awkward smile. I tried to come up  with a reasonable excuse, that was less embarrassing than ‘Yeah sorry about that, I was just too scared to talk to you because you look like you’re straight out of my dreams.’

“I’m really sorry about that! It was just that every time I was done talking to someone, the next person already stood behind me wanting to talk.” I lied.

“It’s alright. I guess that's what happens when you’re a world-famous singer.”

And you should think about the consequence Of you touching my hand in the darkened room

It was now 11pm and the sky outside was completely dark. The lights in the bar were also dimmed a bit, creating a cozy atmosphere. Damiano and I were in the middle of our conversation, as he accidentally grabbed my hand, that was resting on the bar counter, instead of his drink. It felt like an electric shock. An electric shock that woke up the butterflies inside my body. My hand started to tingle, and I’m pretty I was full on blushing now.

If you've got a girlfriend, I'm jealous of her But if you're single that's honestly worse 'Cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts

“So do you have a girlfriend?”,  at this point I was so drunk I didn’t even care how this question came across anymore.

I was pretty sure he in fact had a girlfriend, I mean how could he not looking like this?

“No I don’t.” Thank god. “It’s kinda hard building up a real relationship with someone when you're always busy, but I guess you can tell me a thing or two about it too.”

Oh, yes, I could. Still I would drop everything I was doing right now,  just to be with him.

Chocolate brown eyes looking in mine I feel like I might sink and drown and die

Just as my confidence made a small comeback, I made the mistake to directly look into Damianos beautiful brown eyes. There really wasn’t a single thing about him that wasn’t extremely beautiful. I started to feel a bit dizzy as a wave of heat rushed through my body. What is this man doing to me?

Just thinking about it again made my heart beat three times faster.

You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have You are so gorgeous it makes me so mad You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have

For like the million time this evening, he made a laugh. Great, so he wasn’t just incredibly handsome, but also extremely funny. I didn’t realize how happy I was in his presence until I remembered he wasn’t mine. Suddenly I felt kind of sad, thinking about how I maybe would never see him again after tonight. I just wanted to grab his hand and run away with him. Somewhere I could be alone with him. Somewhere he would be only mine.

Guess I'll just stumble on home to my cats Alone, unless you wanna come along

I looked at the clock that was hanging on the wall behind the bar tender. I was shocked when I realized it was already midnight. There was no way we’ve been talking for like three hours now. I scanned the room for my friends, I went here with in the first place.

“Looking for someone specific?” Damiano asked, now also looking in the direction I was looking in.

“Just my friends, but it seems like they already went home. I’ll check if they texted me” I picked up my phone, checking if I had a message from my friends.

‘Hi babe, we already went home, we were kinda tired. Have fun talking to handsome stranger. You better tell us everything tomorrow ;)’

“Did they text you?”

“Yes, my friend texted me that they already went home. Guess I’ll have to go home alone then. At least my cats are waiting for me.” I stood up and tried to make my way over to the wardrobe to get my coat. Unfortunately I forgot how drunk I actually and almost tripped as I tried to walk. Alcohol and heels really are not a good combo. Thankfully Damiano grabbed my arm helping me to stabilize myself.

“You’re sure, you’ll make it home alone?”

“Yes, I am a big girl. Unless you wanna come along.” I said with a cheeky grin on my face.

Damiano left out a soft chuckle. He paid for our drinks and then accompanied me on my way back home.

“It’s already pretty late, if you want to, you can stay over.” I told him after he brought me up to my bedroom.

“That would be nice, thanks.”

After I got myself ready for bed, I basically fell into my cozy bed, cuddling myself up in my soft sheet.

“You mind telling me where your guestroom is before falling asleep?” the Italian boy asked with an amused look on his face.

“Mmh, I don’t know. Just sleep here, it's fine.” I answered him, already half asleep.

After that, I probably fell asleep, since I don’t remember anything else that happened.

You're so gorgeous I can't say anything to your face (to your face) 'Cause look at your face

“Good morning.” I heard a raspy voice say.

I looked up from my notebook and came face to face with Damiano gorgeous figure. His hair was messy, and he still looked a bit sleepy. Since he just wore a pair of boxer shorts, I could finally see all the tattoos that covered his upper body. All of a sudden I felt the same way as I did last night when I saw him for the first time. The words were stuck in my throat and I felt the anxiety build up in my body. How does he manage to make me feel this way by just existing?

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” I somehow managed to say.

“Yes I did thank you. What are you doing?” he asked me curiously as he sat down on the garden chair next to me.

“I’m just writing a song. The idea came to mind when I woke up.”

“Not gonna lie, it’s pretty impressive that you’re able to write a song now after you could barely walk yesterday.” a small laugh left his mouth. “Can I see it?”

“No, it’s kinda awful. I’m to hungover to write something good now. I just wanted to write the idea down.” I lied,  I actually really liked the stuff I wrote so far, but he would probably think I’m a freak when he found out I wrote a song about after knowing him for a day.

“Can you at least tell me what it is about?”

“So you can steal my brilliant idea? No, thanks.” we both started laughing. “I can offer you breakfast though”

“I’m fine with that too” he said flashing me his beautiful smile

And I'm so furious At you for making me feel this way But what can I say? You're gorgeous

We were now sitting on my roof garden eating breakfast. Damiano told me some things about his life and what interests he had. As he did, so I looked at him in awe. I really started crushing on him as he continued to talked about his last tour with a huge smile on his face. I hated it that I was practically on my knees for him already, but how could I not? He’s perfect.

“I could really get used to this, you know?” he said out of nowhere.

“Me too.” I responded, not really questioning what he meant.

I also didn’t care as long as it involved us spending time together. I would make him mine no matter what.