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stoneagedevil · 5 days

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Do you write for Llewelyn Moss? If not, ignore this.

Basically just a short, suggestive fic where the reader is put into danger with Anton, and opposed to her typical damsel personality she managed to do some of her own damage and something about her * distracts him enough for Llewelyn to take him down. They reunite and are safe blah blah blah.

Note from Red: I’d say “I don’t write for Llewelyn,” as I actually don’t like him much, but I suppose now that isn’t true anymore. But for you, I’ll do it. I thought it was an interesting prompt and wanted to try my hand at writing for his character. I hope you’ll find it satisfactory.

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Your Binds | Llewelyn Moss x f!Reader

TW/CW: Kidnapping, hostage situation, guns, blood, gore, murder.

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Sometimes you wondered why you’d fallen head over heels for the stubborn man called Llewelyn Moss. Now was one of those times.

Llewelyn had sent you away after finding a satchel filled to the brim with 1.2 million dollars. Course, you cussed him up and down about it, saying you weren’t going nowhere without him, that the safest place you could be was beside him. But as said before, Llewelyn was a stubborn man.

“I’m bein’ tracked and I’ll be damned if you’re anywhere near me ‘n this bag.” You remember Llewelyn scolding you like an insolent child. You let him have it for that. But ultimately, he had the final say. You couldn’t wait to tell him, “I told you so,” because now, here you were. Kidnapped and tied up in a hotel room, sitting across from you was the bloodhound who had sniffed you out. He said his name was Anton, and by the way he told you his name, you knew that he’d kill you. A man like Anton doesn’t tell people his name all willy nilly ‘less he was gonna off em. You shoulda been scared. At least, a lot more scared than you were. You shoulda been shaking in your boots. But you weren’t. If you weren’t confined to this fucking chair and had a gun of your own, you’d blow his scheming mind out of his skull.

“He’ll find you, you know. He’ll come here and rip you a new one.” You said, venom dripping from your words. “You’re gonna die.” You snarled.

Anton smiled, yet it didn’t reach his dark eyes. “That’s what I’m planning on. For him to come here. For him to come to me.”

You were seething at the fact that you were being used as bait to kill Llewelyn. Part of you wanted him to never come and find you. Another part prayed to whatever God there was that he would. You couldn’t decide which was worse. You closed your eyes and let your head fall back over the back of the chair, wondering how it got to this point. How could such a blessing also be such a nightmare? Like two sides of the same coin.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door.

“Hello? Sir, there’s a fella down in the lobby wanting to speak to you.” A muffled voice spoke through the door. It was a voice you didn’t recognized, and you figured the receptionist had switched places with the man behind the door. You and Anton looked at each other, and he raised his pointer finger to his lips. You knew if you screamed, Anton would shoot through the door and kill the man on the other side. But you were sure it was Llewelyn the maybe-receptionist was talking about. You weren’t stupid. You knew what he was capable of.

“Let him up.” Anton replied, not tearing his eyes from yours. You shook your head back and forth, almost pleading. Why? You knew this wasn’t a man of reason, but principle. It was as if your brain accepted it, but your body didn’t and decided to wager with the killer in front of you without permission.

“He said he wouldn’t come up, and that you’d have to meet him in the lobby if you wanted to see him.” The man replied, agitated he had to play message boy. Anton’s eyebrows lowered just a fraction, and if you weren’t so perceptive, you would’ve missed it. He was thinking.

Anton went through the layout of the hotel in his mind. The next room was farther down the hall, and the door opened so that if Llewelyn walked out to shoot him, he’d have to walk around it. Anton could easy kill him before Llewelyn had the chance to get into a position to cause Anton harm. There was only one set of stairs, but two sets of doors. He figured Llewelyn wanted to have an out. A chronic coward with rabbit blood and feet. While Anton didn’t understand the feeling of love, he understood that if one truly loves another, they’d do anything for the object of their affections. He wondered for a moment if his bargaining chip was even worth her weight in salt. Nonetheless, his target had come for his prize, all Anton had to do was shoot.

Finally, Anton stood to his full height, beginning to limp slightly towards the door. Just as his shiny mop of hair hit the sunlight beaming through the window, a loud crack was heard. It was like thunder, and you swear you felt rain on your face. But the rain was warm.

Atop a building across the road from the hotel you were held hostage in was a crouching Llewelyn. He released the breath he was holding, and finally lowered his rifle. This was the most important hunting excursion of his life, and he hit his target. As the scope was taken away from his face, he looked up, a single tear running down his right temple, and he thanked God the shot connected.

On the floor in front of you lay Anton, the top of his head taken off like a lid of a jar, with its contents spilling out. Brain matter and pieces of skull littered the floor, even spattering onto the walls. Around your feet blood pooled, and you were sure that Llewelyn was the one who shot Anton. You hung your head and cried, salty tears mixing with bitter blood, pink streaming down your face and falling onto your clothing. Suddenly, the lock was shot out, and your held snapped up to the source of the intrusion. It was a man you didn’t recognize, with a big white hat and blue eyes. He took said hat off his head and lowered it down over his heart.

“It’s okay, Llewelyn’ll be here in a minute. I’m gonna untie you now, if that’s alright.” His voice was different now, and you assumed that if the man hadn’t disguised his voice, Anton would’ve recognized him. His eyes searched yours, and yours searched his. What option did you have other than to trust him? He gingerly stepped over what was left of Anton. “My name’s Carson Wells, ma’am.” He said, as his hands worked gently to undo your bindings.

“Where’s Llewelyn?” You snapped, rubbing your red wrists as Carson moved down to your ankles. If this man wasn’t trust worthy you’d lay him out, now that you were free. You kicked aside a piece of Anton with your boot to make room for a fight if need be.

“He’ll be here any minute. He was up on that rooftop over there. He-“ his sentence was cut short by the sound of cowboy boots running up the creaky wooden stairs. Now free from your bindings, your body shot straight up. Llewelyn could barely turn into the room fast enough, his shoulder slamming into the doorway, grunting. But the moment you two locked eyes, it was like relief flooded the room, washing away the tension, the fear, and the blood of the man you both damned to Hell.

You both didn’t have to go far as you met each other halfway in the small room, but to the two of you it felt like miles. So close, yet so far. Llewelyn embraced you tightly, his arms becoming the only binds you’d ever want to find yourself in for the rest of your days. You sobbed uncontrollably, and he became choked up too.

Carson smiled softly at Llewelyn, and Llewelyn bittersweetly smiled back, nodding. The man who untied you put his hat back on, and turned towards the door. “I’ll leave y’all be for a moment.” And he ducked out of the room.

Now in private, Llewelyn’s hold tightened on you, before he loosened his grip shortly after and brought his large, rough hands to your wet and bloody face. “You ain’t hurt, are you baby?” He croaked, turning your head gently from side to side as if assessing any damage.

“No, he ain’t hurt me.” You sniffled. You felt like your heart was going to burst with the amount of emotions that filled it.

“I did.” He cried. He began shaking his head, “I ain’t never letting nobody hurt you ever again. No money in the world is worth you.” He swiftly brought your face to his, kissing you deeply. He tasted salt and iron, and a taste that was uniquely you that he thought about day and night while now was traveling to get you back.

Finally, you parted for air. “I should cuss you out somethin’ fierce.” You told him, laughing wetly. His eyes crinkled in joy, his mouth widened to show his pearly whites framed by his mustache that tickled you every time you kissed.

“You can cuss me out all you want. I’ll take anything you give me.” He needed to hear your voice in his ears for forever, like his lungs needed air. Having you living with him wasn’t enough. He wanted you to be his forever and after that.

It was that day, he decided he’d buy you a ring to put on your finger. Bought with the money men died over, but bought for the girl he killed for. It was a symbol of his dedication to you. His promise to come back. It was a symbol of your strength, and your trust in him, and you’d treasure it for the rest of your days, just as he’d treasure you.

——

I hope you liked it, and I thank y’all supporting my writing!

#x reader #fanfic #no country for old men #anton chigurh #llewelyn moss #Llewelyn moss x reader #no country for old men fanfic

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stoneagedevil · 9 days

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Somethin’ Stupid | Alastor x F!Reader

CW/TW: Jealousy, mentions of murder (obviously), implied cannibalism, feelings.

Somethin’ Stupid

Something was simmering under the surface of your flesh ever since Mimzy made another unfortunate (in your humble opinion) appearance.

It felt like envy, but different, and you couldn’t place a claw onto what it was. Annoyance perhaps? Maybe. You often felt annoyed whenever she showed her mug, only ever doing so because she needed something. That something appeared to be Alastor’s attention this visit.

You watched from the lounge portion of the foyer, taking in everything Mimzy said to Alastor. Every bat of a heart filled eye. Every touch given from her fingers that you wanted to bite off one by one like carrots. Yes, something was most definitely simmering beneath the surface of your stoic façade. You clenched and unclenched your hands, feeling magic bubble up to the surface, ready to make an example of Mimzy before the eyes of everyone in this God forsaken hotel; especially Alastor’s. But rules were rules, and one of them was “No killing in the hotel.” Courtesy of Charlie.

In your rage and confusion, you felt a hand gently touch your shoulder in an attempt to calm you down.

“You okay? Ya seem…tense, toots.” Angel said carefully. While you two had got on nicely, everyone was still wary of you. It was to be expected, you supposed. You were the other overlord in the building everyone worried about.

Your eyes darted to Angel’s, narrowing slightly. “Whatever do you mean? I’m perfectly fine.” You stated. But it wasn’t very convincing. You turned your gaze back onto Mimzy, miffed that you’d missed a few seconds of whatever the Hell she was doing. Using your magic, you lifted a part of the carpet, causing her foot to catch and fall face first into the ground. Your subtle smirk was wiped off your face the moment you witnessed Alastor help her up. In his eyes, he was only being polite. In yours? Fire.

“You’re not, Y/N. Look, I know you hide it, but you’re clearly jealous.” This time your entire neck snapped towards Angel, eyes wide as saucers.

“Jealous? Of who?” Now you were genuinely confused. What was there to be jealous of? You had everything you needed. You were a powerful overlord content in who you are as a demon. You had allies, you had enemies that you enjoyed toying with, peons you puppeted perfectly, you had found friends within the hotel, had a place to sleep at night, just what the Hell could you be jealous of?

“Of Mimzy. Don’t tell me you’re just as clueless as Smiles ovah there.” Angel threw his thumb over his shoulder, motioning to Alastor. You burst out into laughter, causing the entire hotel to look over to you.

You didn’t laugh very often. Only when a massive misfortune befell a demon (nine times out of ten you were the cause of), and when Alastor told a particularly bad dad joke, something he prided himself on. Speaking of the Devil, he was currently burning holes into Angel’s forehead. How dare he make you laugh?

When he achieved such a feat, his chest puffed out in pride, and who knew you’d have such a pretty smile when you wore that intimidating expression constantly? Pearly white fangs, scrunched nose, and apples of your cheeks shoving your eyelids closed. It was a smile he found himself chasing after.

Noticing the stares of the hotel’s residents, you turned to Angel, “Angel, let’s talk in private, shall we?” You gave no time to answer before snapping your fingers and whisking you and your companion away to your room. “Explain by what you meant by ‘clueless as Alastor?’” You felt the tightness in your chest multiply tenfold. Who was Alastor clueless of besides Mimzy? How many more demons would you have to bury?

“I mean that you’re clearly smitten with ‘im, and he’s just as crazy ‘bout you.” Angel rolled his eyes. As much as he liked setting people up, you two were particularly frustrating because of your lack of a love life. And afterlife. He thought it was astounding the way you both couldn’t understand what love felt like; how close yet so far you both were to each other.

Two peas that weren’t in a pod but should be: you and Alastor were a match made in Hell, literally. While Alastor used his smile as his intimidation tactic, you mirrored him with your unchanging stoic expression. From the outside looking in, it was very hard to guess either of your next moves. You’d beaten Husk multiple times in card games because of how impossible it was to call your bluffs; a true poker face. Then there was the fact you both were powerful overlords. Now this was a point of contention between the rest of the residents of the hotel; although it was clear as day to the rest of them that you both fancied each other, was it a good idea to bring you two together? While they thought it was sweet how passionately you both talked about music, two overlords was more worrisome than one, but add powerful emotions like love, jealousy, and obsession into the mix? These two ticking time bombs could become nuclear. Lastly, you both were deer. What were the chances of that? Two prey animals turned apex predators in the underworld.

But Angeldust was a self proclaimed “Doctor of Love,” and he’d be damned a second time if he didn’t help out someone who’s helped him out before. You’ve killed many of Angel’s stalkers, simply out of the kindness of your heart which surprised him, as well as poured over his contract trying to find a loophole to save him from the clutches of Valentino. You were a villain, not a monster, you’d told him.

“Do you… do you think he is? Truly?” You were apprehensive in meeting his gaze, and Angel was taken aback at this. He’d never seen you so nervous about something before. He put a set of hands on your cheeks and tilted you face to look at him, a second set of arms keeping you in place at your shoulders.

“Babe, I’ve neva been more serious about anythin’ in my life.” He caught your eyes to show you how serious he was. “Trust me dollface, I know.” Your shoulders dropped, but immediately tensed with the notion that you had grown romantically attached to someone. That’s it. You had everything you needed. Not everything you wanted. Everything else was so easy. With your persuasive personality and your edept ability in massacring, you’d gotten where you needed to be. But this was uncharted territory. You couldn’t gaslight, gore, girlboss your way out of this.

“To be frank with you Angel, I’m terrified.”

Meanwhile in the lobby, Alastor was fuming. Where had you and Angel gone? Why for so long? Was he making you laugh even more than before? How dare that perverse spider make off with his doe without notice! He unknowingly clenched his fists in frustration, catching Charlie’s attention.

“Alastor, are you okay?” Charlie whispered. She knew he didn’t appreciate people acknowledging when he was upset, but it was in her nature to check on everyone.

“Perfectly fine my dear!” Alastor stated, unknowingly parroting what you had said to Angel earlier. Of course, Charlie knew better. When one makes no guess as to what they’re feeling, working out feelings becomes as easy as breathing, and she hoped to extend this to Alastor.

“I-I don’t want to push you, but I think I know what’s wrong. If you want my help, I can help you in any way you need.” Alastor’s smile strained. How could she know what was wrong with him when he didn’t know himself?

He bent down to Charlie’s height, “And what is it exactly that you think is wrong with me?” He tilted his head in warning at a jarring angle, and Charlie swallowed nervously. She was frightened, but the prospect of two demons finding love under the roof of her passion project sent butterflies flying in her stomach.

“I think…” she paused, and suddenly a huge smile broke out onto Charlie’s face, making Alastor raise a red brow. “I think that you’re in love with Y/N!” She whispered excitedly, clasping her palms together as if praying it were true.

And boy, was it. Sharp, high-pitched feedback sounded from Alastor at the notion, and he felt his face get hot. His eyes darted around the room wildly, in search of anyone who potentially heard that, relieved to find that no one did. Vaggie was assisting Husk, and Mimzy was sat at the bar chatting with the two. However, he couldn’t risk any ears hearing this embarrassing conversation. “Haha! Charlie! Let’s speak privately in another room!” Once again, parroting your actions, he snapped his fingers causing shadows to enshroud both himself and his blonde business partner into his quarters, giving the ever suspicious Vaggie a heart attack.

Charlie grunted as she felt herself drop into an upholstered chair, sat across a table from Alastor.

“Now why on Earth would you say such a ridiculous thing? Y/N and I are merely close friends!” Alastor waved his hand in dismissal, but Charlie caught the tightening of his never ending smile. He clearly hated saying that.

“But you want to be more, don’t you?” Charlie’s brows were knitted together, and Alastor’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of having you on his arm. “Alastor, I know feelings are confusing, and no matter how brave you are, they’re terrifying, but being in love is one of the best feelings in the world. Vaggie is my everything, and I see you look at Y/N the way I look at Vaggie; the way my dad used to look at my mom. I know I was born in Hell, but I know that in life, humans would always say, ‘life is too short.’ But y’know something? The afterlife can be even shorter, or it can last for forever. Imagine a short afterlife where you never got to tell her how you feel if anything ever happened to either of you. Imagine going an eternity knowing she’s right there, but you didn’t say anything.”

He hated when other people were right. But what could he say against that? Charlie was irrefutably correct. Anytime you walked into the room, he straighten his posture, always making sure a seat was available right next to him with your name on it only. When you both found yourselves awake at night, you’d talk about music in the glow of the fireplace. You’d recommend music to him, and even if some of it was modern, you still got his tastes down, and he found himself wanting to listen to whatever you thought he might like; stubborn as he was. You’d drink tea in comfortable silence as you each devoured page after page of your books, trading novels once you each finished, and talking emphatically about plot holes, twists, heros, and villains.

He’d written down every song you recommended to him, so he wouldn’t forget, but how could he forget things when it came to you?

He sighed, his ears dropping, but his smile ever present. “How’d you get to be so cunning? I’m afraid I’ve begun to rub off on you, my dear. But simply can’t do that.” His eyes suddenly seemed very interested in the glossy table between them.

Charlie leaned closer, “Alastor, I mean this in the least patronizing way possible, honestly and truly: what are you afraid will happen if you do?” She ducked her head, catching his line of sight with her eyes. Normally, he’d slaughter anyone who proposed that he was ever afraid of anything. But when looking into her eyes, it was clear that she was honest, only wishing the best for him. He could appreciate that, if nothing else.

“I’m afraid she won’t return my affections. I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with the concept of love. Countless things could go awry, it’s better this way, as I’d rather spend an eternity having her as a friend than nothing at all.” He admitted. He felt his chest cave into itself at this admission, wishing he could rip the words out of the air and shove them back down his throat to ease the pain.

“I know she loves you too, Alastor. Please, please consider it? She’s head over heels for you, and…” she wrung her hands, as if debating something, “…and she’d kill me if she knew I told you this, or even saw it, but when Mimzy was following you around the lobby earlier, I saw the carpet lift up and trip her. I think Y/N might be jealous of the attention you’re giving Mimzy.”

Alastor looked like a deer caught in a set of headlights. It was almost cartoonish the way his heart seemed to beat out of his chest, and he was sure he had hearts in his eyes. “She did? My my.” Charlie beamed at his expression, nodding excessively.

Angel had his hands full, which was hard to do because he had so many, but you managed. His mismatched eyes watched you pace the length of your hotel room, muttering every worry that came to your mind at the prospect of confessing your feelings to Alastor. Every worry or excuse that fell from your lips was immediately rebutted by Angel’s words of affirmation; that you did in fact have this in the bag. He was your hype man.

“Doll, ‘Tall, Dark, and Creepy’ has the eyes for you. Ya gotta go for it. Love’s hard to find in Hell.” He crossed his sets of arms and tapped his foot on the floor like a parent scolding their child. Suddenly your pacing stopped, your eyes snapped shut, and the silence was cut by a large inhale and exhale from you.

“Alright. I’m going to tell him.” Your eyes opened to find Angel absolutely ecstatic at your unwavering resolve, though deep under the surface, you were shaking in your boots. You had just confirmed with the most romantically pushy demon within the confines of the hotel that you would profess your love to the most unattainable man in Hell. Conquering territories, reaping souls, and climbing up the hierarchy of Hell was so much more easy than this. Fuck.

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Thank you for reading! I’ll be making a part 2 eventually, so keep your eyes peeled. Feel free to request something in the meantime, though I can’t promise I’ll get to yours. Also, I’m making a playlist for Alastor, and will be adding to it now and then.

#fanfic #x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #Spotify

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stoneagedevil · 3 months

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"I could fix him" well I could be the one person he's nice to and soft with, while he remains just as unbelievably awful as ever to everyone else <3

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stoneagedevil · 3 months

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*slams you with my fucking PUSSY

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stoneagedevil · 3 months

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happy womens day to everyones favorite woman

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stoneagedevil · 3 months

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stoneagedevil · 5 months

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Idiot | Eddie Munson x f!Reader

TW/CW: loneliness.

———

You’d been feeling down about yourself for some time now. You weren’t a cheerleader, but lately you’d been considering attending the tryouts for the semester. You’d even heard that girls in the band’s flute section were getting action from the brass section. Maybe you could pick up another instrument…?

No. No no no.

Christ, when did you become so desperate? Maybe it was all the twitterpated faces floating up and down the halls, what with the dance approaching and all.

But it’s not even like you wanted to go. You weren’t much of a dancer, but rather a person to get rowdy on stage at the Hideout when you played. That led to other thoughts…

You’d met Eddie Munson at the beginning of summer a few years ago. You were enthralled with his performance in his band Corroded Coffin, and he was just as lovestruck when he saw you go up with one of the most badass electric guitars he’d ever seen. After your set, you’d both gotten to talking at the bar - him buying you each a soda since you both had to drive home. That was the start of a wonderful friendship.

And unfortunately for your poor little heart, that’s all it was.

You sighed, taking a drag off a cig you found in your jeans you didn’t remember washing. Thank god for that. You looked over at the cheerleaders on the field practicing their routine from where you sat on the outside bleachers; trying to picture yourself in a cheer outfit mingling with them.

Suddenly you were startled by a loud, thundering metal sound coming from your right, nearly pulling your neck at the speed you looked over. It was Eddie - who just jumped onto the metal bleachers to illicit a reaction from his favorite person.

“Shit yourself?” He laughed, smile making his eye crinkle.

“Har har Munson.” You blew smoke at his face smirking slightly. He waved it away playfully.

“Watcha doin’ up here? Thought I’d find you in the art room, but you weren’t there.” He sat closely beside you.

You flicked the dead ash from the end of your cigarette. “Feelin’ melancholy I ‘spose…” you trailed off, leaning back on the seat behind you and looking up at the sky. Eddie quickly joined you.

“Why’re you sad? Need something stronger than that ciggy?” He reached into his inside pocket on his jacket and dug out a joint.

You eyed it for a second. “Nah. I’d better not.”

Eddie frowned. It wasn’t like you to turn down his premo stuff. It wasn’t like you to isolate yourself - especially away from him. He got nervous.

“Hey, what’s going on? You know you can talk to me, right?” He placed a hand on your knee, causing those stupid butterflies to flutter around in your stomach.

You debated a lot of things in that moment. You debated telling him you were in love with him. You debated shooting up from your position on the bleachers and pulling his face towards yours and kissing him. You debated running away, never to be seen or heard from again.

You took none of these options.

“I’m lonely, I guess. It’s hard seeing people get asked out to dances all of the time knowing that’s never coming to me. I wouldn’t even wanna go, but maybe if someone asked…I would? I don’t know. It’s stupid.” You sat up and looked down at your shoes.

Eddie looked at the side of your face. Maybe if he was brave enough he’d ask. Maybe if he was wealthy enough and you’d said yes, he’d get a suit and get you a corsage. Maybe if he wasn’t the town freak. Maybe in another life.

Maybe.

“Hey, it’s not dumb. I know how you feel. I’ve only really ever been asked out as a joke. But someone will come around and see how absolutely amazing and badass you are. Seriously.” He said this instead, even though it made his throat tighten at the tail end of his sentence.

You looked at him, and he let go of a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding captive. Your eyes swam with doubt, slightly damp.

“Eddie. I’m the freakette. Anyone who would ask me out is probably an idiot.” You said, somberly.

Suddenly, Eddie’s hand disappeared from its place on your knee, Eddie himself bolting up from the bleachers. “Hey! I know I’m a repeat but I’m not an idiot!” He said, sounding genuinely upset.

You paused, realization smacking you both upside the head. “You…you what?”

The color of Eddie’s face would make traffic stop. Fuck. Maybe he is an idiot. “I said that…that uh-“ his hands flew over his eyes, “that I’m not an idiot but now I’m thinkin’ I am because I’m pretty sure I just ruined the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Your heart sped up in your chest, your face blushing. “You…like me?”

Eddie, hands still covering his embarrassment, sighed. “I mean, like you? No. I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you when we met. Christ. Look-“ he removed his hands from his face, instead wringing them together, “if you give me time then maybe I could get over it. We can pretend this never happened, I just- I just need you in my life, whatever way that looks like.” His eyes looked down at his shoes now.

You shook your head, mouth agape at what you were hearing. You debated a lot of things in that moment. Then, you went with the best option.

You stood, walking calmly towards him, taking his burning face in your cold hands and lifted it. He looked down at you, shocked, and slightly scared. Definitely nervous.

You leaned in and kissed him then, him returning the favor. Once separated, you backed up, “Eddie, I don’t want you to get over me.”

His smile looked like it’d break his face in half, “Good. Because I was totally lying about my ability to get over you. I’m pretty sure it’s impossible.” You laughed and he joined, happy to have made you smile. “I know it isn’t a big dance proposal, but, would you wanna go out? With me?” He had to specify. He just had to.

“Id love to go out with my favorite idiot.” You smiled cheekily. Eddie burst out into laughter, picking you up and hugging you tightly.

“If I can be your idiot, then an idiot I’ll be.” He declared, kissing you once more.

———

Thanks for reading, I’ve been in a slump lately, so I hope this was good.

#fanfic #x reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #joseph quinn

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stoneagedevil · 6 months

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So a free tool called GLAZE has been developed that allows artists to cloak their artwork so it can't be mimicked by AI art tools.

AI art bros are big mad about it.

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stoneagedevil · 8 months

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Red and Blue (But Mostly Red) | Billy Hargrove x Reader

PART ONE: “Cherry Red, Denim Blue, and White Hot Rage”

CW/TW: cops, speeding, use of “babe,” etc.

—🏁—

You didn’t particularly care to uphold a reputation for keeping your word, for honestly, or for keeping your sleeves trick-free. In fact, you didn’t really have that sort of honest reputation at all. On occasion you broke promises, told lies, and divulged in a little semi-harmless cheating and deceit.

This track record was the sole reason for your time, date, and setting for this street race. After getting to know certain officials through your dad and just a general set of observational skills, you knew when, where, and how long certain cops liked to sit in certain places.

When one owns a fast car, one thinks ahead. Really, it was your dad’s fault. Growing up with a government agent as a parent was bound to instill some level of secrecy in you, as well as the skills to evade watchful eyes.

Throughout the week you’d subtly pester who you come to know as “Billy Hargrove.” The Keg King, the hottest lifeguard, the serial womanizer, the resident adrenaline junkie. Whatever else he could be called, it was something you took note of. You kept your friends close, and your enemies closer.

Pestering was defined through winks in the hallways, slamming a locker door shut every now and then, and to really get under his skin, making a scene in the cafeteria which involved you sitting in his lap and asking if he was getting cold feet.

Yes, it really was no wonder that you became fast friends with Munson.

“So you met Billy Hargrove.” Eddie mentioned, the boys suddenly stopped their chatter to listen in.

Putting on an air of poshness, you replied,“My dearest Munson, that begs the question, doesn’t it?” Nose pointed up at the ceiling, you sat poised.

“And what question might that be L/N dearest?” He played into the character, matching your demeanor.

You turned suddenly, smirking. “Did I meet Billy Hargrove, or did Billy Hargrove meet me?” The table burst out in jovial laughs.

As Eddie caught his breath, he questioned you again. “So, think you’ll kick ass in the street race?” Eddie asked as he picked at some pretzels.

“Think? I know I would. But I don’t need to. I thought of something a little more fun.” You snatched a pretzel, snapping it in half with your pearly whites.

“Sabotage?” He smiled, eyes crinkling, his hands rubbed together as though he were a villain planning something diabolical.

“Tut tut Munson. I wouldn’t say sabotage is the right word. As if I’d do anything to his precious Camaro.” You stated, as if it were obvious.

Eddie huffed in frustration, causing his wild bangs to fly upwards and his forehead to make a surprise appearance. “Alright alright. So what is it?” He leaned in closer, as the rest of the boys did, waiting on bated breath to hear from Y/N The Cunning.

“I’d never do anything. What will- excuse me- what MAY get him in trouble, are events he partakes in on his own volition. I shall tell you no more, and no less, my friends.” The rest of the table sighed in frustration impatiently, while Eddie’s laugh appeared once again.

You chuckled smugly. This band of brats had really warmed up to you, and despite having the chance to run with the popular crowd, you pretty much defied the laws of high school cliques and wove in and out of groups as you pleased. Really, you were a shapeshifter. You got along with all groups on some level.

But at the end of the day, you spent most of your time with Eddie and the kids.

————

The day came when you’d face Billy in one of the most anticipated street races in Hawkins. You’d cleaned your car and waxed it to glimmering perfection, and gave yourself a spa day as well. What was most integral to this plan of yours, was remembering to take your Polaroid camera along for the ride.

So, with nothing else to do, and the time of the race approaching, you set off in your Corvette, driving to the designated road. As you pulled in, you saw about half of the school in attendance, all looking at each other and talking amongst themselves. You you make out “she showed up”’s and, “I thought she chickened out”’s here and there.

You arrived after Billy had, who was talking up his supporters, declaring how he’d win like it was nothing. Leave it to him to only show up early to a race over anything else going on in his life.

Now, your car may have been older by a few years, but she was still a sports car, and she was born to go fast. Just like you.

However, for now, you’d keep it in first gear.

You both parked your cars on a crudely drawn chalk line. Wheels in perfect synchronization.

Billy turned to you, his windows long rolled down. “Never too late to back out sweetheart. Don’t wanna make a fool out of ourselves, do we?” He smiled. Really, his heart was racing faster than his car ever could. You’d shown up, flawless, car flawless, engine purring.

At his jest, you pulled your sunglasses down to your nose and made direct eye contact with him, pressing the gas gently. Your engine roared in a challenge to him, and you slowly put your shades back up and turned to face the road. Billy exhaled through O-shaped lips. He was sure you’d be the death of him.

One of your classmates stood in between the hoods of your cars, taking a bandana and holding it high in the air.

“Racers! First down the road and back to cross this line wins! Any questions?!” She yelled through red lips.

“Yeah, what do I get if I win?” Billy asked, turning to you. “How about a date?” He smiled again, chewing his mint gum.

You smiled in return. “Be prepared for disappointment babe.”

“Don’t think I can be disappointed when it comes to you.” He winked. You laughed. This back and forth was some of the most fun you had in ages.

“Racers ready!” The flag girl yelled once the exchanged was over. The crowd was buzzing in excitement. You and Billy turned to face the road, engines rumbling in anticipation. “Racers steady…..” she yelled.

Deep breathes in, and out.

“GO! GO! GO!” She screamed, throwing her arm down in a swift motion. Billy shifted immediately into first gear, expertly going straight into third. And when the dust cleared….

…you were, sitting?

You hadn’t moved.

“Y/N! The race started! Go!” A crowd erupted in a commotion as to why you’d talk so much smack and suddenly throw this chance away to beat the man who couldn’t be beat.

“Patience everyone!” You yelled over them, your voice stern and commanding. Silence washed over the crowd. “I’ll go when I need to.”

You checked your watch, and proceeded to move your car down the road at the designated speed limit. Down the road, you saw red and blue flashing lights with a cop outside of his cruiser, standing next to the blue Camaro you’d seen a minute or so prior. You slowed down and pulled up next to Billy’s window, shouting.

“Hey leadfoot! Smile pretty!” You took your Polaroid and snapped a picture of his embarrassed face at the fact that he’d been pulled over. He groaned and slammed his head down on the wheel.

You drove slowly down the road, and back, where you inevitably won the race. Not like you had much competition.

Pulling in past the line, you got out of your car. “Slow and steady everyone.” You said smugly, shaking a small, thin, white square in your hand. When the image developed, you held it up for everyone to see…

…revealing a red, embarrassed (but grinning) Billy Hargrove.

Everyone laughed and cheered, crowning you the car queen of Hawkins High.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t done pestering Billy yet.

-🏁-

Thinking about making a part 3, but it might be a tad short. Y’all alright with that?

#fanfic #x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy stranger things #billy hargrove #eddie stranger things

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stoneagedevil · 8 months

Text

Cherry Red, Denim Blue, and White Hot Rage | Billy Hargrove x Reader

TW/CW: Speeding, sexualization of reader, billy being a horndog, etc.

- 🏁-

The growl of the cherry red ‘75 Corvette warmed your heart, and sent adrenaline coursing through your veins every time you pressed your foot onto the accelerator. Pressing the clutch and moving your right hand to shift gears was second nature to you, and you almost found it easier to do this motion than to breathe sometimes.

However, right now the purr of your beloved steed was more comforting than anything, as today, you’d be attending a new school in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, Indiana. Hawkins High, to be more precise. Ever since your alarm had screamed at you to get up, you’d been chain smoking cigarettes like a maniac. A balanced breakfast.

Truly it didn’t matter what time you set the alarm for the day prior, as today, you were late. Your mind racing like your car on empty roads, you’d managed to forget multiple things at home multiple times. But this didn’t bother you.

The more time spent in your pristine baby was less time spent doing the “get to know you” routine at another new school.

Your father was a government agent: well off, absent, the usual. While he wasn’t able to tell you much about why he uprooted your lives to move to Indiana, one thing was for certain: this was a dangerous situation.

It wasn’t all bad, you supposed. He provided for you. Your dad and you had worked out a deal: get good grades, face no repercussions. You had free rein over your home and free time.

You were prepared to make this place your bitch too.

You pulled into the driveway of the school, looking for suitable parking places for your prized possession.

And that’s when you saw it. A fellow Chevy, a ‘79 Camaro, in as pristine condition as your Vette. Beside the admittedly stunning car was an open spot - on both sides, actually. You’d figured another passionate Chevy owner would do well to be mindful of their doors. If you had to deal with a door-ding in your fiberglass, you were prepared to break a couple of fingers.

Carefully and expertly, you sailed into one of the two open spots. The outside of the school was empty, signifying class was in session.

You grabbed your bag from your passenger side, slinging it over your shoulder and popping the trunk in order to bring the soft top over the car. Latching it into place, you bid your car farewell.

Time for second period. Your first period teacher would have to get over your absence. There was always tomorrow.

Walking into the room, you received many looks. Multiple eyes flitted up and down your form in order to get a read on you. Who are you? Where do you fit in? Do you even fit in at all? These were the questions you supposed were looping through their brains. The attention you received was annoying, but not unthought of; you couldn’t imagine anything super interesting happened here.

Your day consisted of weaving in and out of bodies in the hallways with whispers following behind you, entering and leaving classrooms, and finding a place to sit in the cafeteria, where you met a band of misfits, one of which was named Eddie who you had a very engaging conversation with on Black Sabbath’s discography. “The Writ” is unmatched in your eyes. He respected that.

Overall, the day was mundane, yet slightly enjoyable.

That was until you left the doors of the school, your eyes immediately catching an ass cladded in blue denim jeans resting on YOUR car, and a large crowd hovering over it. Attached to the ass was an ass himself. Denim head to toe, blonde curly mullet, cigarette trapped between his lips and an earring dangling on one side. The fucking nerve of this denim-ed dork sitting on your car like he owned it. He had another thing coming.

“Deep breaths.” You muttered. A hefty breath in and out followed your words. And then you started walking, shoving these strangers out of your way, not caring what they had to say in return. You had to defend your car’s honor.

When you were in his peripherals, he immediately took notice of you. Rather than trying to read you, he was checking you out. Sizing you up in a way that measured how much you’d play hard to get. He was in for a rude awakening.

“This pretty thing yours?” You asked him, nodding your head to your car behind him.

He laughed and ducked his head, pinching the cigarette between his fingers. “No, but my pretty thing is the Camaro. You could be too though.”

The crowd watched in anticipation: was the new girl set to be another Hargrove conquest? Not quite.

You pretended to laugh and twirled your hair between dark red manicured fingernails. “It’s beautiful. I like the color. But why sit on that car if yours is the Camaro?” You pouted.

He sat up at that, and you gleaned a sense of pride in your compliment by the way he puffed out his chest and smirked. “I’m gonna challenge this guy to a street race. I’d see you there, right? I think I’d remember your face if I’d seen you around here before.”

You laughed again. “I think you’ll have to.” You replied, stepping closer until your lips were inches away, reaching around him with your keys, you unlocked the door to your Vette.

His eyes widened in recognition, and his mouth fell open slightly.

Lifting one finger to his chin, you pressed upwards, closing his loud mouth. “I’ll race you, babe, but don’t get too sad when you lose, ‘kay? 2:00pm this Sunday on Elm sound good to you? Unless you’ve got church…a straight edged boy like you?” You smiled smugly.

He merely nodded, laughing slightly, though all confidence was lost.

You had that effect on men.

You opened your door on his ass, nudging him away, and unlatching the top of your convertible from the trunk, opening it, and unlatching and folding the entire thing back into the trunk again.

Getting in, you put on your sunglasses and blew him a kiss, squealing your tires as you floored it.

Billy Hargrove watched the new girl drive off, the sound of squealing tires quickly being replaced by the “ooh’s” and whistles of his peers at her challenging attitude to him. The feeling of surprise and awe was now overshadowed by the unmistakable feeling of his denim jeans being significantly tighter, and he made his way to his own vehicle.

This was going to be a long rest of the week.

-🏁-

I know I have other part 2s to make but part 2 to this fic will be out sooner than the others. I do what I want, where I want, when I want, how I want! It’s a curse, really.

Anyways, I hoped yall liked this. I totally dropped elements of me in this as I have a 75 Vette myself, and while it needs work done, I still love it with all of my heart.

#fanfic #x reader #stranger things #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy stranger things #Spotify

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