#I ain’t slandering him no more

[chrollohearttags]

hope everybody had a good Easter except Armin, who probably went to church with (y/n) for the sole purpose of scamming her granny and all the other old ladies up outta their tithes and offerings. Probably had a lil ass metal bowl he stole from the kitchen and walked around with it like he was an usher. Only to sit back down and put the money in his suit pocket. Even fell out during praise break to really sell it and starting reciting the lyrics to Itty Bitty Piggy when they thought he was speaking in tongues.

#this my last one!!! #I ain’t slandering him no more #aot x black reader #toxic armin headcanons #black fem reader #armin imagines #leaving y’all man alone fr #black reader #I’m lying like shit

[redstarwriting]

bestie | hobie’s version

black cat!fem! reader becoming besties with Hobie

request?: yes LMAO

request: continuation of my original fic “bestie”

requested by: literally everyone omg

word count: 2.8k

genre: platonic and chaotic

warnings:  language, stealing, monarchy slander, mentions of homelessness, knives, a sword

a/n: ok y’all, i thought of a way to continue this post as a series. maybe i’ll make a ‘bestie’ masterlist? 

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The friendship between you and Hobie formed fast. So fast. Faster than Miguel expected, even. You and Hobie literally became best friends immediately. He fucked with your attitude, which you knew already, but when he learned what you do? Best friends. “So, let me get this right, mate, you’re a global superstar—”

“Yep.”

“But you steal from the rich—”

“Mhm.”

“And you give to the poor—”

“Right.”

“Like some kinda famous Robin Hood?”

“Precisely,” you nod and he raises an eyebrow at you. The two of you are chilling in your penthouse apartment in a building that you own. He’s mindlessly strumming on his guitar, looking out at Nueva York from your balcony/rooftop, and questioning you. He thinks you’re cool, but he can’t help but be weary of sitting in such an expensive place. “Love the sentiment, really do, but ain’t bein’ a superstar… counteractive to all ‘at?” you shrug. “The majority of my money goes back to charities. I keep some of it, obviously, but I prefer giving back.” You lean back against a chair. “Besides. I grew up with nothing and basically no one. Feels kinda nice having a place like this.” “I guess, but donthca think buyin’ the ‘ole buildin’ was a bit overkill?” “No, actually. I pay for everything in this building and let homeless kids and teens in need, like me at that age, live in the rest of it free of charge,” you explain, taking a sip of your water. He stops strumming his guitar. “‘Scuse me?” you look over at him to see him staring at you with a look of disbelief in his eyes. You chuckle. “Don’t look so shocked. I like giving back, that’s the least I could do. Besides, I have a soft spot for kids being on the streets like that. No child deserves to suffer like that,” you explain and he shakes his head. As someone who was homeless as a child and well into his teenage years, hearing you say that actually makes him respect you loads more. “You should talk to some of the rich assholes in my world. Talk some sense into ‘em,” he mumbles, and you shake your head. “Rich people are inherently assholes.”

“You’re rich.”

“And I’m inherently an asshole. Self-awareness is key, Hobart,” you say and he rolls his eyes. “Not like ‘em assholes, though. They parade ‘round their wealth, pretendin’ the citizens in the city ain’t dyin’, starvin’… always stickin’ the pigs on us like we ain’t worth nothin’,” he mumbles, and you frown. “They’re lucky they have someone like you to stand up to them,” you say, and he nods. “Bloody right. ’s what I do. But there’s always a new person who gets in the way after I take down the first one,” he sighs, beginning to pick at the strings of his guitar again. You hum in agreeance. “Heard you bashed Norman Osborn’s head in with that guitar.”

“I did. It was bloody brilliant. But ‘en, after ‘im, these new Nazis showed up. Don’t even get me started on the new fuckin’ PM now,” he groans, and you shake your head. “Governments are ass. And I come from a non-monarchy. Can’t even imagine what yours is like,” you mumble and he frowns. “After I got rid of Norman, the new Prime Minister stepped in. Got rid a’ one evil and gave another one a open invitation.”

“At least you got rid of one of them. You’ll get the other one in time.”

“As much as I want ‘at to be true, I got the crown to worry ‘bout. Spewin’ all their rubbish to everyone, distractin’ ‘em all from the real issues goin’ on with their fancy jewels and blood money,” he stopped playing again, using his hands to show his disgust to you. “Jewels, you say? Money?” you smirk, and he rolls his eyes. “Is ‘at all ya got from ‘at, ya bloody klepto,” he asks, and you shrug. “Not all. Large portion. What do you say we fuck with them?” you suggest, and he raises an eyebrow at you. “And ‘ow d’you reckon we do ‘at?”

“Well, I, for one, am partial to the jewels and money you mentioned,” you grin at him, and he cocks his head to the side. “You wanna steal the crown jewels? Mate, I ‘ate to break it to ya but it’s not just one jewel. Or money. It’s a collection of shit.”

“And? You act like I’m a beginner at this shit,” you say, snorting and finishing your water. He smirks. “Serious?”

“Would I ever joke about making rich assholes panic?” you grin, taking your sweatshirt off to reveal your catsuit. You slip on your gloves and wink at him. “Let’s go, mate,” you imitate his accent and he jumps up, opening the portal to his world. “You got a plan?” he asks as the two of you enter, and you shrug. “Not necessarily, but they won’t even know I’m there.”

“Cocky, ain’t we?” Hobie teases and you giggle, shrugging. “I’m good at what I do.” “The jewels are protected. And on display. Dunno ‘ow you plan to get ‘em, but I’m excited to see it ‘appen,” he says as you step foot in his flat. You grin. “I have my ways. I say we hit it when it’s like 2am. Which luckily for us is in… right now, actually.”

“Ain’t this late gonna be expected?”

“Yes. I love a challenge,” you smirk and he shakes his head. “You’re mental.”

“But you like it.”

“Love it. No one ever actually wants to do shit like this with me,” he says and you shake your head. “Can’t imagine why. This is about to be so fun,” you smirk, and he nods, giving you a fist bump. “So just ‘ow are wee expectin’ this to go down? Am I meant to come inside with ya?,” he asks and you shrug. “Didn’t expect you to, honestly. Figured you’d be distracting the cops so I can get in there anyways,” you explain and he nods. “I can do ‘at. If I’m lurkin’ round the guards’ll ‘ave a fit.”

“Your accent gets thicker when you’re home, how is that even possible?” you say your thoughts out loud, and he rolls his eyes. “What is it with all of you and my accent. ’s just the way I talk,” he grumbles, and you laugh. “Because you get so annoyed by it. At least that’s why I do it,” you say, and he shakes his head. “No wonder Miguel ‘ates you.”

“Hey! He doesn’t hate me! He just strongly disapproves of all of my life choices and urges me not to speak to him most of the time,” you feign offense, and Hobie holds his hands up in surrender. “Now, where are these jewels held?” you ask looking out at the city through his window. He looks out, pulling his mask on. “Tower of New London. They moved the most important pieces overseas so the new Queen could ‘ave a second coronation over ‘ere. ‘ave ‘em on display for the public to see. Make money off it,” he explains and you scoff. “That’s fucking stupid. Are you sure they’re real?”

“Oh, yeah. No doubt. Like I said, they love flauntin’ their wealth,” he says, and you grimace. “Gross. Can’t wait to take them,” you say with a smirk. “Need a lift, love?” he asks, holding his arm out for you to grab onto him. “Would love one, mate, thanks for offering.” You wrap your arms around his neck, and he grips onto you. He jumps out of his window, webbing to the New Tower of London which looks a bit out of place in the cityscape belonging to New London, but you can see why they hold the jewels here. “It’s like a small castle,” you mumble, and Hobie nods. “Fuckin’ annoyin’ ‘ow everythin’ ‘as to be so over the top,” he says as the two of you land in an alleyway across the street, hidden in the shadows. You scope out the place. “You weren’t kidding. Guards are everywhere,” you mumble and he nods. You point to a part of the castle that isn’t well-lit, a wall on the side of one of the watch towers. “We can climb that,” you say, and he nods. “Time to go make the wankers freak,” he says, and the two of you sneak over. The two of you scale the wall of the walkway surrounding the main part of the tower undetected, making your way to the wall you pointed out earlier. You use your claws to climb up while Hobie uses his spider powers.

You hoist yourself up onto one of the platforms, ducking down and hiding behind a wall to figure out what your next move is. Hobie was right beside you. “I think… this might be where we part,” you whisper, and he nods. “Don’t die, yeah? Lotta paperwork I don’t feel like doin’,” he says before swinging away to distract the guards. You scoff. You watch as guards run off in the direction he was spotted in and make your move. You run to the wall of the next building, climbing it and hiding from the guards on the top of the roof. You quickly sneak to the other side of the roof, only to see that the middle of the castle is connected to nothing. “So that’s why they call it a fucking tower,” you mumble, scaling down the side of the wall and into the grassy lawn.

You assess the situation. You know there are guards in those watchtowers, but that would probably be the easiest and most efficient way for you to get in. You just need them to be distracted enough for you to run across the lawn and over to one of them. As if on cue, you hear Hobie play a chord. Loudly. You smile to yourself. Perfect.

You sprint across the lawn, being sure to stay as shrouded by shadow as you can, and luckily for you multiple guards are on edge and running to wear the guitar noise came from. You hear them calling Hobie some… choice words and chuckle. He’ll be so happy to know they hate him so much. You quickly start to scale up the watchtower, looking out just in case a guard might see you.

You were in the clear.

You reach the top, quietly peering into the tower, and see a guard looking out of the opposite window. You climb through the window you’re in front of, not making a sound, before sneaking past the guard. You quietly hurry down the stairs, and peer through a large archway. You search for cameras, pulling out your small throwing knives to break them if needed. You spot two, hitting them with deadly correct aim. You scoff, sneaking out and making your way to some large double doors. They’re locked, of course, so you use your claws. You pick the lock, quietly pushing it open and slipping through. Sure enough, your intuition was right, and now you’re in the room with probably billions or trillions of dollars. You glance around to see if there are any guards inside the room. None. Strange. “Come to mama,” you mumble, taking out a vial of chalk dust and blowing it. Yep. Lasers. That’s fine.

You start crawling, flipping, and sliding your way through the lasers, collecting a few gemstones, a staff, an all-gold orb with a crown on it, a giant fucking diamond, and finally, a purple crown endowed with gold and jewels. You collect them one by one, placing them in a bag you have laying where the lasers start. You shake your head. Relying on lasers is never a good idea for people trying to protect their things. For you? Amazing. You sneak back out, closing the door and glancing around. You hear the faint noise of screams and an electric guitar. Hobie’s still got them distracted. Good.

You run up the way you came. This was almost too easy, but then again, you are skilled at what you do. Too bad your dumbass forgot there was a guard up here. “Oi!”

“Oh! Hi, there. If you don’t mind, I’ll just be on my way,” you say, slinking towards a window. Unluckily for you, he pulls out a sword. Though he does have a gun, so… guess it could be worse? “I’m like, totally not telling you that I’d prefer the bullets… but why a sword when you have that?” you say as he takes a swipe at you and you dodge it. He doesn’t respond, and you frown. “I heard you speak earlier, bro. I know you can,” you backflip away from him, tossing the jewels to the side and getting ready to fight. “Seems a little… redundant, you know? Like why even carry a gun if you’re not gonna use it.”

“Pipe down, cow,” he growls as you continue dodging his attacks. “Well, now, that just wasn’t very nice. Clearly, no one has ever raised you to treat women with respect,” you say, using your claws to catch the sword in your hands. His eyes widen as you yank the sword away from him. You kick him in the side of the head, disorienting him before swiping his legs out from underneath him. He falls down, hard, and you stick a loose part of his uniform with his sword into the bricks below him. “Would love to stick around and chat, but I have some jewels to sell.” You wave, picking up your bag and leaping out of the window, using your claws to slide down the wall. You sprint across the lawn, being careful to stay in the shadows, and make your way back out to the wall you and Hobie climbed earlier. You lay low, hoping that Hobie can deduct you’re done and give you a quick getaway, but it’s never that easy. You slide down the wall again, hearing the commotion of the guards starting to race around and search the perimeter, so you stay hidden. You make your way back across the street and into the alley that you and Hobie were in earlier. You send him a quick message on your watch before climbing up one of the buildings.

You watch as across the street chaos ensues. And you smirk to yourself knowing that you have the riches of a family that never deserved them. You hear a familiar voice screaming, “What?! Ya didn’t like the show! I played jus’ for you bloody lot, ’n ‘is is ‘ow ‘m repaid?!”

You shake your head as Hobie lands next to you, pulling you behind the door that leads into the building the two of you are on top of. “We should definitely run,” you say, waving the bag towards him and he nods. “Right,” he says, pulling you into him and webbing away again. You lose the guards, and he quickly ducks into his flat. You roll into the room whereas he lands perfectly, and there’s a silence that falls between the two of you. You turn your head to look at him and give him a big smile. “Think I can return any of this shit to the original owners?”

“What ‘ave you got?” he asks, dumping out the bag. He pulls his mask off, genuine shock on his face. “You got it all?!”

“I told you. I’m good at what I do,” you say, picking up the giant diamond. You gasp. “No fucking way. This is—”

“The Koh-I-Noor,” Hobie laughs, picking up the crown and inspecting it. “Bloody tosser wore this on ‘er ‘ead the other day. Now it’s in my ‘ands,” he smiles, tossing it to the side with no regard for caring for it. You hear the heavy gold thump on the ground and shake your head. “How much you think all this’ll go for?”

“Mate, this shit is priceless. I can’t wait to see the look on Pavitr’s face when we show ‘im you got the Kah-I-Noor,” Hobie shakes his head, and you grin. “Well, let’s get it back to my place, yeah? I can display it and the best part is these assholes here will never find any of it.”

“Lead the way, love.”

You enter through a portal into your home, typing a code into a painting that opens like a door. You allow Hobie to see your treasure room. He’s honestly kind of stunned. You have so many priceless artifacts in here. It’s impressive. “Mate. You are cool as fuck. Jus’ thought ya should know ‘at,” he mumbles, picking up an emerald the size of his head. You chuckle. “I know, Hobie. Now, let’s get this diamond to Pav, shall we?”

As soon as Miguel got the notification that there was disrupt in Hobie’s universe due to someone stealing the Crown Jewels, he had to take a walk.

He was stressed.

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『 tag list 』

@noelsilly* @yunonaneko​

*if you are italicized - i am unable to tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out and see if we can fix the issue

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #spiderpunk x reader #spiderverse x reader #hobie brown #spiderpunk #spiderverse #atsv

[babydollmarauders]

OURS — TREVOR ZEGRAS

trevor zegras x fem!reader

part of the Speak Now Fic List

summary: in which y/n and Trevor’s relationship is constantly being criticized by outsiders but they know their love is real.

warnings: references to nsfw activities, hate from outsiders, dialogue heavy, not proofread

notes: written semi-quickly, shorter than my other recent works, idk how i feel about this one, but it’s done and i hope y’all like it. ending is kinda iffy but oh well.

it seems like there’s always someone who disapproves of Trevor and i’s relationship.

my parents don’t like his carefree and confident demeanor. his younger brother didn’t trust me because i was someone new. his friends didn’t like that i write songs about exes and my relationships.

but most of all his fans and the media, judge us like they know us personally.

mostly judging me.

as a singer, my every move was criticized and picked apart. what i wore was either too homely or too dressed up. i was too skinny or too big. my heels were too tall, but then my nike’s were too ‘tom-boyish’. but the judgement had only seemed to get worse once i started dating Trevor.

suddenly his fans were saying i wasn’t good enough for him. analyzing our body language in photos and claiming that i didn’t act like i liked him. saying i was using him to further my fame.

but on the other side, i had my fans commenting that i was too good for him. citing his previous playboy ways and saying that he wasn’t smart enough or mature enough for me. claiming his bad boy attitude drew me in and that i would ‘come to my senses’ soon.

***

y/nofficial

liked by trevorzegras, gracieabrams, and 151,308 others

y/nofficial summer with my boy toy <3

tagged trevorzegras

Load more comments

trevorzegras my beautiful girl, you were off to a great start in the beginning and then you added the last photo

y/nofficial wdym? i think that ones my favorite!

trevorzegras whatever floats your boat mamas

gracieabrams cutest couple in the world ♥️

y/nofficial you’re the real loml <3

gracieabrams shhh i thought we weren’t telling trevor?

user26 NEW MUSIC COMING SOON?!

user81 i wonder if it’s about Trevor

jackhughes was i cut out of the last pic?! i thought you loved me, y/n 😪

y/nofficial in the wise words of Ariana Grande “you ain’t my boyfriend”

user40 the way she’s leaning away from him in the 5th pic? oh she’s over him

user95 she’s finally over the bad boy thing, i guess

user02 thank god! i don’t want her to get hurt!

user73 @/user02 HER to get hurt?! she’s gonna end up writing a slandering song about my baby Trevor and painting him to be an asshole

user02 @/user73 lmao yeah, well the shoe fits. why shouldn’t she write a song showcasing his true colors?

user73 @/user02 i’m not about to fight with a Y/N stan of all people— have fun supporting your famefucker

user02 @/user73 oh please, she doesnt need to use your little hockey asshole for fame when she’s already more well known than him

user12 we love a PR relationship 🫶

***

my converse squeak against the marble floors as i leave my execs meeting, catching the attention of many up and coming artists that are waiting in the lobby. i can feel their gazes following my every move, from when i stop in front of the elevator to when i press the down button, and i can’t help but laugh in my head; reminiscing of when i was the same way. star-struck and in awe whenever i saw any artists leaving the same doors i just walked out of.

but now, having been in the business for two years, that feeling has come and gone, replaced by small talk with those very same people that i once looked up to.

“hi.” i smile politely at a redheaded girl that sits close to the elevators, a notebook in her hand and stars in her eyes.

she looks around, as if searching, before she lets out an awkward chuckle. “oh- hi!”

the elevator dings twice before the doors open to another crowd of wannabe pop stars, and i step aside to let them out before waving a goodbye to the doe-eyed redhead and stepping into the elevator.

i’m excited to get back to my boyfriend, but that excitement vanishes when i scroll through twitter on my uber home.

—

—

oh- that was fast.

i can’t help but scroll through the replies and quote tweets, and by the time i arrive back home, i’m disheartened to say the least.

i thought i was being nice by greeting her? even if i couldn’t stay and talk. but apparently i should take this as a lesson for the future, don’t say hi to anyone unless i can stay and chat.

and my mood only worsens when i make it into the house, calling out my boyfriend’s name, to which i get no response.

“Trev?” my voice echoes off the walls of our home as i step into our bedroom, in search of the six foot tall hockey player. but i come up empty, finding that he still isn’t home from training camp.

i slide my phone from my pocket, drafting up a text before ultimately trying my luck at a phone call instead.

the outgoing ring reaches my ear twice before it stops, the call picking up.

“hey babe, what’s up?” Trevor’s tone is light and airy, painting an immediate smile across my lips.

“hey, i was just checking in.” i sit upon the fuzzy white blanket that’s folded along the foot of our bed, running my hands over the soft fabric. “i thought training was supposed to end at noon?”

“oh, yeah, it did.” he confirms, and i can hear someone else talking in the background. “Jimbo and i decided to grab lunch and catch up a bit.”

“oh, okay.” i nod, despite the fact that he can’t see me, and i can hear him conversing with someone.

“shh. hold on.” he tells someone. “he wants to say hi.”

i laugh as Jamie’s voice comes through the line. “HEY Y/N!!!”

“hi Jame!” i reply, listening as he grunts, wrestling the phone from Trevor, i assume.

“i’ve missed you!” he sounds closer now, while Trevor sounds farther away, calling out for his phone back, confirming my suspicions. “when do i get to see you again?”

“i’ve missed you too. if it’s alright with Trevor, and if you’re free, you can come over for dinner tonight?” i tell him. “i can go to the store and grab stuff to make my garlic and basil chicken pasta.”

“oh my favorite! i’m in! i don’t care what Trevor has to say about it, to be honest.” his response causes me to laugh, while my boyfriends calls out an offended ‘hey!’

“see you later!” Jamie yells, as i assume Trevor gets his phone back.

“did you need anything else, babe?” Trevor asks distractedly.

“no, nothin’ else.” i stand, gathering my car keys from my nightstand. “actually, i’m gonna go grocery shopping, can you think of anything we need?”

“condoms,” he replies unabashed, and i blush at the thought that Jamie heard him. “and frosted flakes. i finished ‘em off this morning.”

i roll my eyes before teasing, “the condoms or the frosted flakes?”

“both.” my skin heats up at the reminder of our morning activities, Trevor having woken me up before the sun even came up.

“oh- uh- okay.” Trevor laughs as i stumble over my words. “i’ll grab some more…of both.”

“thanks, love you!” he waits for my reply before hanging up, and i pad out of the bedroom, slipping my shoes back on by the front door before heading out to my car. i wasn’t big on driving, usually letting Trevor take that responsibility, and avoiding it when possible, so i only really used it when i had to go grocery shopping, relying on ubers to go anywhere else.

i slip into the drivers seat, huffing when i find that Trevor messed with my seat again. a harmless prank he likes to pull, just to see when i drive again and if i’ll notice. i adjust my seat before i pull out of the driveway, the radio playing faintly to fill the silence.

*

i’m nearly done with my shopping trip when it happens.

“he still uses those?” i’m mid-tossing the family size box of Frosted Flakes in the cart when the words reach my ears, and at first, i don’t even notice they’re being spoken to me. “he always said it felt like he was wearing nothing.”

i glance over to find a tall blonde standing next to my cart, staring down at my items.

“i’m sorry?” my brows furrow in confusion.

“oh- the condoms. Skyn Elite? Trevor used them back when he and i used to hook up a couple years ago.” the girl smiles, the supermarket lights reflecting off her sparkly lip gloss. “you’re his new conquest, right? y/n?”

“i’m his girlfriend, yes.” i nod, pursing my lips together in a straight line.

“right,” she nods. “girlfriend. you got the envied title.”

“i guess so.”

she gives another falsely innocent smile. “good luck keeping it! he’s insatiable, is he not? seemed like he was always keeping an eye out for the next girl.”

i’ve never particularly cared about the ghosts of Trevor’s hookup past. why would i be? i had them too, so who was i to be bothered by his? besides, right now, he’s mine. i’m the one he comes home to; the one he loves and talks about a future with.

“well, i should get going.” i tell her, already beginning to push the cart towards the end of the aisle, in route to check out. “it was nice to meet you.”

i was lying, sure, but i wasn’t going to let her get to me.

she bids me goodbye as i walk away, and when i glance back, i see her faux smile drop, her eyes rolling as she sneers, turning the other way.

yeah, i pretty much expected that.

*

i’ve just made it into the kitchen, dropping the grocery bags onto the counter, when my phone begins to ring, buzzing in my pocket with an incoming call.

i do an awkward dance of trying to free my hand from a twisted bag handle, before retrieving the vibrating device from my pocket, my fathers contact taking up the screen. pressing accept, i hold the phone up to my ear.

“hey, dad!” i chirp, opening the refrigerator to begin unloading the food.

“hey, pumpkin. what are you up to?” his voice drifts in my ear as i put away a gallon of milk.

“just unloading groceries.” i inform him. “what are you and mom doing?”

“oh, nothing.” he sighs. “just missing our little girl.”

i laugh at his dramatics.

“i know, i need to come visit.” i stuff a few cartons of berries and a bag of grapes into the fruit drawer before shutting the fridge.

“so catch me up, honey. what’s new?”

“nothing really. i’m working on some new music, and i had an exec meeting this morning to discuss how the album is coming. but other than that it’s same old same old.”

i open the cupboard, taking care of the box of cereal and a couple bags of chips as i speak.

“and you’re still dating the uh…” he trails off. “the one with the tattoos?”

i can hear the disapproval oozing from his voice and my eyes roll in my head.

“Trevor, yes.” i confirm, walking down the hallway to our bedroom and placing a few things on Trevor’s nightstand before setting a new bottle of shampoo on our bathroom counter.

“yeah, him.” he sneers, and it’s then that i hear the front door open, two sets of footsteps reaching my ears. a smile spreads across my face as Trevor calls out my name. “i don’t understand why anyone would do that to their body. that’s permanent, ya know.”

“mhm.” i hum in disinterest. “hey, dad, i gotta go. i’ll call you later.”

“oh alright, honey. love you!”

“love you too.” i hang up the phone as Trevor steps into the room, smiling at the sight of me.

“there you are.” he beams. his arms snake around my waist, pulling me against him, and his head dips down to bring his lips to mine.

“here i am.” i mumble against his lips, causing a chuckle to arise from his throat.

“Jamie is in the living room. followed me home claiming that he had to see you.” he tells me, his eyes lighting up at the mention of his close friend.

“yeah, i invited him over for dinner.” i inform him. my hands cup the back of his neck, pulling him back down for another kiss.

my whole body relaxes, any tension disappearing when his lips meet mine. his eyes scan my face as he pulls away, and his faces falls, his lips forming an exaggerated frown.

“what’s wrong?” he whispers, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear before pulling my head to his chest.

his heartbeat echoes in my head, calming me immensely.

“nothing.” i mutter, my eyes falling shut when he begins rubbing circles on my back.

“i don’t believe you.”

“it’s nothing, really.” i insist. “nothing that’s actually bothering me. just a little annoyed.”

“what annoyed you, baby?” he sways us back and forth and his hand on my back trails down to tickle at my side, making me giggle.

“well,” i sigh and he pushes me back to look into my face. “i said hi to a girl at warner today-”

he hums, encouraging me to keep talking.

“but it was just a quick ‘hi’. apparently she’s a fan of yours, and she thought it was rude of me to greet her and then not stay and chat.” i explain. “so she took to twitter to say so.”

Trevor huffs, his nose scrunching in annoyance. “well that’s just stupid. you don’t owe anyone a conversation…. except me. because you love me, obviously.”

i laugh at his joke, making his face light up at his successful attempt to cheer me up.

“what else, baby?”

“well then, at the store, i ran into one of your ex-hookups.” i continue, and his brows thread together in confusion.

“which, ya know, doesn’t bother me.” i clarify. “but she made a comment on the condoms we use and implied that our relationship wouldn’t last long.”

“our love is not hers to speculate on.” he gruffs out in annoyance, and i nod along.

“i know. so i walked away.”

“i’m proud of you, love.” he presses a kiss to my forehead, a smile resting upon my face as he does. “is that all?”

“almost.” i breathe out. “then i got home, and my dad called as i was putting away the groceries.”

“okay.” he nods, obviously confused why i would be annoyed about my father calling.

“and he made some snide remarks about your tattoos.” Trevor barks out a laugh at that, quite used to people commenting on the art that adorns his skin.

“i ignored them, and hung up pretty much right after, because you got home. but, i just wish he could look past them, because then maybe he’d see the kind, funny guy that you are and understand why i’ve given my heart to you.”

his eyes squint as he grins at my words, bending his neck to pepper kisses across my nose and cheeks. i squeal at the affection and he pulls back to look me in the eyes.

“baby, i don’t care what your dad thinks of me. only that you like me. and i’m pretty sure that you love me just the way i am.”

i nod, biting my lip and holding back a smile. my cheeks turn hot, a blush settling over them, and he smirks at the sight.

“i don’t want you to worry your pretty little mind, baby.” he coos. “so someone was wrongfully upset that you didn’t take time out of your day to talk to them— who cares? people like to throw rocks at things that shine. and you, my darling, shine so beautifully bright. they’re just jealous.”

i roll my eyes at his cheesy statement, but the sentiment warms my heart. “thank you, Trev.”

“any time, baby.” he pulls me in for another hug, my head resting on his chest again. “our love is ours. nobody else’s. what other people have to say about it, and about us, doesn’t matter.

“you hands belong in mine, my heart belongs to yours, and no matter what life throws at us, i’m by your side.”

i open my mouth to respond, but i’m cut off by another voice.

“aww, that was sweet.”

i lift my head from Trevor’s chest, our heads both turning towards the entrance to our bedroom to find Jamie standing there with a cheesy smile.

“Jimmy, what are you doing in here?” Trevor lets out a wheezy laugh at his friend, his head dropping back and his shoulders shaking. the sound is like music to my ears.

this man.

i am so irrevocably in love with him.

“i got bored.” Jamie shrugs. “you guys were taking forever.”

#speak now fic list #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras fic #anaheim ducks #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3 #faithlynn’s insta edits <3

[satoruoo]

VIA VIA VIA HEAR ME OUT. secret santa b they get u and accidentally spill it / the big reveal…

(NOT SO) SECRET SANTA - aki hayawaka

summary: despite aki's best efforts to keep your gift a secret, his (stupid) roommates somehow manage to spoil the surprise.

genre: fluff, non-devil au, everyone is happy, crack

warnings: swearing, denji, f!reader, suggestive

notes: hope u like it babe !! this is my apology for the recent aki slander 😈🔥

now playing: rockin' around the christmas tree - brenda lee

"for the millionth time, do not tell [name] i got her, understood?"

denji and power sit crossed-legged on the floor, looking only half interested in what aki is saying. they're dressed in christmas gear from head to toe, heads swaying slightly to the christmas music coming from the record player.

power looks awfully happy with the pair of antlers that denji unwillingly brought her from the store after she threatened to throw a fit in the middle of the aisle. they're decorated with little bells, and every time she nods her head, aki can visibly tell how delighted she is from the jingles that they make. she now refuses to take them off.

denji's gone for a more traditional approach, sporting a santa hat with a light up pom pom at the end.

(the hat also says "ho! ho! ho!" if the button on the left is pressed, but denji had overused it so much that aki cut it open and took out the speaker. he then burnt the speaker. denji was told told it must have broken.)

"duh, i ain’t a snitch!" denji claims, saluting his roommate with a shit-eating grin. he would snitch, aki is fully aware of that. bribe him with a lollipop or a tit squeeze? done deal.

"why are we not allowed to tell her?" power asks, fiddling with rudolph's nose on her christmas jumper.

aki audibly groans, fingers working at his temples in exasperation. "because, it’s a secret santa. we aren’t supposed to tell anyone who we got."

power's face twists in mild disgust, "what is the point of that?! just give me my present now!"

aki rolls his eyes, raking his fingers through his dark hair, "because it builds the suspense, power. do you want to have all your gifts now and have none on christmas day?"

she seems to quieten at that, closing her eyes as she mulls over his words. after three agonizing seconds of her silence and aki wondering whether it'd be easier to just throw himself out of the nearest window, power pouts and nods.

denji dramatically sighs before aki can say anything further, slapping her twice on the back in an attempt to comfort her, "i feel ya, powey."

the girl mirrors the sigh, slumping against denji as she flips aki off with a scowl.

"you should thank me, human! i will not go and tell [name] that you have her!" she declares smugly, resting her body weight on the male next to her.

aki vaguely hears "ow, fuck! power, y’re crushin’ me! how the fuck are ya so heavy?!" and a loud slap that probably came from power as he walks away.

• . ✿ ° × . *.

aki really does try his hardest to keep the secret.

he finds himself slapping a hand over denji's mouth when he almost lets it spill, and shoving a piece of food into power's when the topic of the secret santa comes up.

it's only halfway through december. he doesn't know how much longer he can keep this up. he can tell you're starting to pick up on something fishy and it's beginning to stress him out.

"and so aki has-"

"what are you doing?"

power freezes up at the sound of aki's voice, head lifting from your lap as she scrambles to defend herself.

"nothing!" she says a pitch higher than usual.

your eyes narrow at aki who sends a subtle glare in power's direction before taking a seat beside you on the couch. you're immediately taking his hand in yours, rubbing the pad of your thumb over his knuckles to soothe his anger.

the man melts so quickly that it should be embarrassing, shoulders relaxing with a simple touch.

"she was telling me about secret santa," you fill in gently, "something about who everyone has."

power wishes she was dead.

the glare that aki gives her makes certain that she'll be banned from chocolates for at least a week. that's practically the same as death.

"was she now?" aki asks, an angry rumble in his throat.

the girl is looking at anything but his face; when had the wall become so interesting? look at that, is that a new vase? what are denji's pornos doing on the floor-

"why don't you tell both of us, power?"

before anything else can be said, she shoots up from her spot on the couch sweating bullets.

"meowy needs to shit!" is all she says before leaving the room at hurricane speeds. (if only she were that quick to close her mouth.)

you smile, turning to look at your boyfriend with a raised eyebrow.

"so?" you question, idly threading your fingers through his.

"so, what?" aki responds.

he can tell from the way a small laugh escapes those pretty lips that playing dumb isn't going to work.

"nothing, just a bad day." he tries, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

"you're snapping at power because of a 'bad day'?" you state, scepticism evident in your tone. "righhhht."

aki chuckles into your flesh, placing a chaste kiss there before pulling away. "yeah, that's all."

you press a kiss to his lips, tongue swiping over his. "sure, okay. i'll let you have this one, handsome."

the edges of his mouth tip up at the nickname and silent relief fills his veins at the clarification that you won't push the matter.

"thanks, love."

• . ✿ ° × . *.

aki swears on his life that he tries his hardest to keep the secret.

it's just that denji and power are not good secret keepers. they're a pair of loudmouths who are easily bribed. if not for your presence to keep him sane, aki's sure he would have strangled denji and confiscated power's antlers. actually, he's sure that if the gift he'd gotten you wasn't so important, he'd have let his roommates tell you already.

"makima, c'monnnn! i licked the floor so ya owe me a tit squeeze!" denji whines in a kneeling position on the floor.

going out for christmas lunch with you, his two roommates and makima may be one of the best and worst decisions aki's ever made in his life.

power still has her antlers on with a scarf wrapped tightly around her neck, you had to persuade her to wear it, as she makes fun of her friend. there are still remnants of the snowball fight he was forced to engage in on her coat, and her nose is pink from the one denji threw in her face.

denji is as desperate as ever - shame didn't seem to find a place in his vocabulary. his purposefully broken santa hat is still finding a home atop his dirty blonde hair, though the pom pom looks like it's about to give up and fall off.

you on the other hand look ethereal in his eyes, a smile etched into your gorgeous features. with every small giggle that escapes your lips, aki feels his chest constrict almost painfully, heart thumping loudly within his ribcage.

you're still holding his hand; you have been for the past three hours.

"only if you tell me who aki has for secret santa, denji." makima answers, voice silky smooth.

it's meant as a joke 100%. everyone else in the room, even power, understood the joke. curse aki for forgetting denji's inability to read social cues.

"he has [name]!!"

on december 23rd, the day before christmas eve, denji tells makima who he has for secret santa in exchange for a tit squeeze. typical.

there's silence for a while. no one really knows what to say. all eyes are on the dark-haired male who genuinely seems to be in the middle of a breakdown.

denji's all frozen up and fully ready to make a run for it if needs be.

"i already know he has me, though." you say, confused.

comically, multiple heads whip towards you.

"...you do?" aki breathes, annoyance towards denji disappearing as fast as it came.

"well if you didn't already know, you suck at keeping secrets, honey. i've known for ages."

part of him feels relieved. if you already knew, then technically he didn't fuck up. technically, it didn't even count-

"it doesn't take a genius to figure it out, you know."

"for real, bro. i knew ya sucked ass like in general but not at lying as well-"

denji will be dead by morning.

BONUS:

"your secret santa gift was an engagement ring?" power asks, mortified.

"what a shitty gift!" denji pipes up, "it's not even edible- ow!"

you chuckle, fiddling with the ring that fits perfectly around your finger as aki smacks denji's arm.

"really? i think it's a wonderful gift." you muse, "it'll last way longer than food."

"so what?! food stays in your tummy forever!" power argues with her hand pointing at her stomach.

"no the fuck it doesn't! ya shit it out, duh!"

their bickering falls upon deaf ears as aki steals a sneaky kiss from you.

"merry christmas, [name]. i hope we'll spend many more together." his cheeks are definitely not dusted pink as he says that. not at all.

#♡. viascribbles #♡. now playing... #csm x reader #csm x you #csm x y/n #chainsaw man x y/n #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man x you #aki x you #aki x reader #aki hayakawa #aki hayakawa x y/n #aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa x you #ask n answer !! #∞. loves

[badchoicesworld]

i hear you requested requests! ive got one!!

hobie x masc reader that's gwens older brother (ik its not canon, but the canon can fuck itself) (sorry miggy)

i dont really have anything in mind for reader's personality or whatever (so thats up to you!) but id like if reader liked to draw (thus ended up drawing hobie and got caught by him hahaha cliches i love them)

where hobie meets gwens older brother (you !)

hobie x masc!reader

this actually gave me hella ideas, im gonna link it to what happened in the movie (sorry it took a while, life fucked me)

didn’t specify if it was platonic or romantic (WHICH IS FINE ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥) so i’ve just done general shit for both lmao

warnings: none

pairing: hobie brown x masc!reader

requests: open, i cant let the demons catch me

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

when you first meet hobie you’re so very thankful to him for taking care of your little sister

if gwen managed to hide her being ghost-spider from your guys’ dad, then she likely hid it from you, too

but obviously, your dads gonna have to tell you why gwen didn’t come home one day

you’re crushed, naturally. likely furious at your own dad for literally firing a warning shot at her

might have ran away yourself, maybe hobie comes to your rescue too

or maybe you two meet while hobie’s dropping off his homemade gizmo for gwen, and you’re so unbelievably thankful for him and his generosity when you meet him

of course you will be, he took your sister in while you couldn’t do anything to help

hobie’s probably side-eyeing yours and gwens dad but is happy to get along with you if you’re gwens bother

he cant stay for long at that moment in time, got a multiverse to save and all that

but the brief interaction opens doors to many opportunities in the future

hobie gets to hear about the brief reunion between you and gwen from her, after she went back to her own dimension before it was show time

he becomes very intrigued by you

next time you two meet is likely after they save the multiverse (WHICH THEY WILL WITH ZERO CASUALTIES UNLESS ITS MIGUEL.)

BUT GENERALLY SPEAKING NOW

miguel definitely doesn’t approve of hobie using his watch to travel dimensions just to see you or gwen, still does anyway if he doesn’t just build his own

probably came to see gwen, pick her up to bring him to his own dimension, whatever

sees you instead, target acquired

hobie’s heard plenty about you from gwen, likes to think you aren’t strangers so is super friendly, overly even

catches you in your room, drawing in a well loved sketchbook

definitely does that thing where he just fucking appears behind you, he’s that quiet when walking despite the accessories

he’s looking over your shoulder while you draw silently, you might be too distracted to notice or you’re immediately started by him

smug asf when you finally catch on, is especially entertained if he’s caught you drawing him, god forbid

wouldn’t be surprised though, he likes to make people stare so is honestly complimented if you’ve been trying to draw him since first seeing him

doesn’t just snatch ur sketchbook and start looking through it though, unlike someone

as an artist, he gets it

you’re probably super protective over ur sketchbook actually because of gwen, smh

will probably banter a little bit about that, tease something about gwen that you’d both be victim to, like her tendency to borrow things without permission

find common ground yknow

“ain’t it a pain when she [gwen activities]” but you’re not being mean ur bonding it’s fine, we don’t slander gwen (i do however have some strong words)

starts hanging out with you on the odd chances gwen isn’t home, just casually in your room at first

starts off talking about your guys’ interests, seeing if you have things in common

probably listening to music together

the closer you get, he starts to actually travel dimensions just to see you

casually waves to gwen before ducking into your room

is happy to just kick back there, but is also happy to go out and do things at that point

the more you hang out, the more your dad and gwen begin to tease you- which is nothing in comparison to the shit hobie faces

gwen easily told everyone else about you two hanging out, he never hears the end of it now regardless of dimension

hobie starts using the front door instead of just appearing in your room “son, your boyfriend’s here” ur devastated why would ur dad say that

THENN hobie starts to come to your dimension for you more than gwen, has probably already invited you back to his once or twice but now he’s a lot more frequent with invites, wants you to consider his place a second home (in case you ever wanna run from home, cough)

say something does blossom between you two, obviously you don’t label it cause hobie’s not about that

you get promoted from “gwens brother” to “hobie’s boyfriend” at some point even if you don’t use labels- that’s only if ur not like too close to the rest of the friend group, but i imagine you’ve gotta be

hobie probably talks more about being spider-man relatively early on considering the topic, but since you know his secret identity it doesn’t really matter to him

the closer you are, the more into his stories he is

is ready to reenact the whole thing for you now so it’s like you were there

draw each other, i dare u

make playlists for each other, perhaps ?

there’s a lot of gwen snitching to each of you

and then you two do with that information together what you will later

like if you’re just being gay for each other it’s wild how fast gwen goes to the other and is like “guess what he said” she is not slick about it

hobie can be found at ur place more often then not, your dads a little more iffy about you going to a different dimension

still, very grateful to be welcome in your home but hobie definitely prefers to kick back at his

hobie loves to bother gwen about your whereabouts, if you are a thing or not “where’s your brother at?” he’s pretending to be cool about it

does your dad approve ? who cares

but nah he’s way more open minded after the incident, thinks hobie is a peace of work and probably his own son too if you’ve got a similar personality, in that case you’re perfect for each other

if not he’s just happy you’re happy, that’s all he cares about

obviously gwen supports it, likes to claim she introduced you guys and you owe your relationship to her when she tries to win in an argument/conversation

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

#across the spiderverse #headcanon #spider man: across the spider verse #hobie brown #hobie spiderverse #imagine #atsv hobie #oneshot #ask #male reader #hobie x you #hobie x y/n #hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown x male reader #hobie brown x masc!reader #atsv gwen

[rreskk]

Dear ol' Trev

I'm experimenting with heavier topics, like smut. So if you're sensitive to the subject of "BDSM", don't read! I'll be answering requests soon enough, thank you for being patient :)

Summary: Trevor was untamed and aggressive. There was only one way to force him out of that toxic mentality.

TW: -heavy smut (BDSM) -Violence (Death threats)

Pairings: Dom!Fem reader/ Trevor Philips

Word count: 2971

For the past three days, he has been unrightfully slaughtering every flaw he deceives, and the judgement has been clashed onto you. So for the past three days, you’ve been verbally insulted with every fibre of his body. Reason complied? Unknown. You haven’t recalled doing anything wrong, or anything to cause this spike of anger. Alas, you have been nothing but idle for the past days. He hasn’t made the effort to conversate, fuck, treat you with dignity. Ever since he came home from Los Santos, he’s been ugly and obscene.

You’ve tried to argue against this sudden aggression, challenging his authority, and it would get physical. Right now, he was more than physical. You had lost your temper and called him every name under the sun and he was provoked beyond belief. His face was red, eyes filled with angry tears, fists clenched as his nails would pierce the skin underneath. Trevor stood an arms-length away from you, his eyes burning daggers into yours.

“Say that again.” His voice hoarsely demanded.

“You heard me.”

“You little shit.” Trevor croaked, his vexation becoming hostile.

You raised an eyebrow, “What’s the problem? I don’t see a lie.”

His lips twitched into a snarl and he grabbed the collar of your shirt, threatening to toy you around. His neck and arm veins were pulsing. You wondered if he strained anymore, they may burst.

“Keep your mouth shut. You’re pissing me off, big time.”

“You’ve been pissing me off for the last 72 hours.”

“You don’t say?” He cruelly hissed, “And you repay that by insulting me, [y/n]? You think it’s funny abusing dear ol’ Trev?”

“Cut that creepy shit out. You’re disgusting – “

“Ohhh… Complaints, complaints, complaints. You always FUCKING complain.”

“Maybe you should take the fucking hint and MAN UP!” You shouted in his face, “The moment your revolting scent arrived at my door after a week of no calls or texts, you had the audacity to operate and belittle me? Like what? I was some slave? Oh yeah, what a lovely man dear ol’ Trev is. What a lovely cunt!”

“THE FUCK DID YOU SAY?”

“Just get out, seriously – “

Trevor pushed you back violently as he threw his arm over the dining table, all the plates and clutter falling onto the floor with a big crash. You glared at him after finding your balance.  He maintained that deep scowl, eyes not leaving yours as it went silence, only the background noise of glass crunching under his work boots.

“How fucking dare you.” You heaved, the energy you have left slowly running out.

“You gonna complain again, sugar?” Trevor tongued as you saw the strands of his saliva spit with vemon.

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

“I know you,” He continued, “You wouldn’t last a week without me.”

“Me? Really? Please! That’s utter bullshit.”

“Yeah… Really.” At this point, Trevor was breathing down on you, his arms locking you against the wall behind. He began to smirk at how trapped you were. He enjoyed seeing you covered in his shadow with that nasty look in your eye.

You tried to lean away, despite his nudges. His hands began leaving achy bruises on your wrists, them cruel fingers spreading his disease while you avoided the discourse of his intoxicating breath. It smelt like death. Your throat numbed at the inhale of his mucky scent, and before you knew it, he lowered his head and began to combatively whisper slander in your ear.

“I ain’t leaving, prick. I am not leaving this place until it’s fuckin’. You hear me?” His hot breath antagonising your neck.

“Get off me, Trevor.”

“No, I think you like it.”

“You fucking pervert!”

His voice rumbled, “Mmm… Maybe I am. Maybe I’m just a burden, a pervert, a creep. Maybe I just wanna bash your fuckin’ head in? What do you think about that, baby? Sounds good?”

You striked his cheek suddenly, his frame falling back at the impact. Trevor held his cheek with a disturbed expression, his eyes wide. Your hand stung with succession as you gave him a gnarly grin.

“I think that’s a great idea, Trevor,” You said, approaching him, “Maybe I should bash your fucking head in,” Your left hand rapidly grasped his jaw before he could fight back, “And you’ll definitely enjoy it.”

“The fuck? –“ He whinged when you grabbed his neck and jaw.

“What’s the matter? It’s not nice being treated like a dog, isn’t it?” Your other hand jolted forwards, hitting his cheek again where a small cry of pain left his lips.

“Fuckin’ stop!”

“You are going to pick up every shard of glass on this very floor. If you don’t, I’m kicking your ass goodbye. You got that?” You shouted in his flushed face.

Trevor threw your hands off, a look of disgust painting his face. He studied you up and down, a sense of uncertainty behind those unstable eyes.

“You’re taking the shitting piss, [y/n]. I’m not doing that.” He mocked.

“You are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Really?” You licked your teeth, “I think you are.”

He sent you a hefty glare, “The fuck are you playing?”

“You want to play?”

“What? – “

“Okay, Trevor. If you really wanna play.” Within a second, Trevor felt his trousers being torn off as he cried out in surprise. His hands automatically covered his bulge but you slapped them away, your fists threatening to interrogate his crotch.

“[y/n], fuck off!” He demanded, fighting against your hands.

“No, I think you like it.” You reflected his words from before, smirking.

“Stop! – “ His voice wobbled with vulnerability. He bellowed forwards and tried to pull his trousers up until his underwear was confiscated as well. Trevor gritted his teeth, seeing you enjoy the struggle he was going through when his cock was on display. He noticed you were grinning at his exposure, feeling fragile and insecure, “C’mon – this ain’t funny. Fuck off!”

“Awh…” You teased and allowed him to scatter, his trousers clumsily being buckled up again. He did not look happy. Trevor’s nostrils flared as he stared at you with raw fury.

“You think this is funny?” He shouted, “You’re a fuckin’ cunt!”

“Easy…”

“EASY? YOU TELLING ME TO BE EASY?”

“You always liked showing yourself off. What’s so bad about it now?” You questioned, smirking up at him.

Trevor stumbled backwards, his feet stomping on the shards of glass that he littered. One piece made a crunching sound from under his foot. He gazed up to see if you had noticed, biting his lip when you stared heavily; watching his every move like a vulture feasting on it’s future prey, the impulsive climax barely containing itself.

His lips snarled when you spoke again, “I heard it – you heard it.”

“I ain’t cleaning.” He responded, crossing his arms.

“Why not?”

“Because I ain’t. You can’t make me.”

“Oh, okay.” You hummed and dismissed the conversation, turning your back.

Trevor smirked when he thought you backed away from the argument. He uncrossed his arms and whistled, singing your name as he placed his foot over a broken frame of you and him. Once he had gained your attention, Trevor licked his lips and pressed down, breaking the picture even more – clearing wanting a strong reaction, as he found it enjoyable.

You felt something stab your gut when he pathetically destroyed the only good picture of you both. And he smiled after it broke. It made you distressed, furious, hated. He stood there carefree, his belt still loose from your stunt beforehand, making him look like a golden stud. A golden stud you wanted to hammer.

“Whoops.” He winked, rotating away from the living room before a hard-hitting hand clenched his shoulder, launching him backwards and onto the rumble of glass. Trevor cried out, his skin scratched and prickled by the mess he made.

You stood over him and stared down; no sign of pleasure nor happiness. He cursed your name as he tried to stand up from the pile of shards but your foot sent him flying down again. It crushed his lower stomach, his breathing becoming unhinged and erratic. Extending weight onto your foot, his hands wrapped around your ankle, begging for you to get off.

“Fuckin’ get off!” He pled repeatedly.

Of course, it didn’t convince you. Your foot dug into his torso until he was threatening to lose his ability to breathe. Waiting for the moment Trevor’s eyes would portray the seconds left of his near-death experience, you released the pressure, and he frantically crawled to his knees, wailing for some air. He mercilessly wailed, believing he was on the road to death by your strangulation.

“Why are you crying?” You degraded, grabbing his hair and forcing his knees to kneel against the glassy carpet.

Trevor panted. His head being forced to look up, staring directly towards your thighs. He didn’t say anything but whined when you’d occasionally tug his hair, trying to pressure some rise out of him.

“C’mon… You’re feeling shameful now, aren’t you?”

He shook his head, still being stubborn.

“You like being on your hands and knees, Trevor?”

He whined again.

“Why don’t you get the fuck up?” You smirked.

“I hate you,” He finally mewled, “I’ll kill you!”

“Get the fuck up then.”

Trevor struggled, trying to use his weak arms but you only pushed him back down with a laugh.

“[y/n]!” He snapped.

“What?”

Your fingers tickled his scalp, falling down his back, reaching the hem of his trousers as he remained on his all fours, having a hard time keeping balance due to the amount of scratches and impaled glass in his skin. Nonetheless, your fingers tickled him. Trevor felt his trousers being pulled down again, and he dropped his head, whispering profound insults that definitely included the words “evil”, “witch”, and “bitch.” But you didn’t care. You waited until his ass was exposed and his cock dangling between his legs. He was shaky, unsure of what you’re about to do. He wanted to stand up, but your grip on him only tightened and his knees were too weak. Did he beg you to stop? No. So you only made it harder for him.

Very hard.

“Fuck… The fuck you doing to me?” Trevor murmured in pain.

“If you wanna ruin my home, you can be ruined with it.” You said before kicking your shoe against his exposed cock, making him jump and cry out in agony.

“FUCK!”

“You like that?” His whole arousal was being beaten with your shoe again, the repetitive kicks destructing Trevor’s last ounce of his aggression.

“FUCK – I HATE YOU! – “ He’d cry, tears oozing down his red cheeks as you kicked him from behind again.

“You deserve so much more hate,” You huffed – his cock and balls being left swollen and bruised, “I’m giving you the bare minimum of it. You should thank me, Trevor.”

It ended with his face crazing against the glass-scattered floor, his cheek embedding deep wounds as he wails from the pain of his genitals being physically abused. He attempted to cover his cock but you slapped his hands away, kicking him one last time before giving him a minor break.

He collapsed, body sprawled out.

The glass was ignored now. You stepped over him, your shadow overcasting the menacing danger of your touch. Trevor, with his eyes closed, felt the shade and spoke through his condition, his voice crackled and fable – like an emotional child begging for some hugs after a traumatic nightmare.

“I’m not thanking… I’m not! Not thanking – you! Kick me again, I fuckin’ dare you! I’m never – FUCK!” You obeyed his request and pressed the soul of your shore against his manhood, crushing until it went numb.

“You never give up, baby…”

He whimpered with is nose stuffed in the carpet floor.

“Wish you’d last this long in bed.” You ended.

Trevor’s head jerked up at the mention of you judging his struggle to hold. He gritted his teeth and aimed to spit, unsuccessfully watching the saliva reach barely half way as you just watched with a frown. A piece of clammy drool fell from his lips, dropping onto the floor, along with his tears.

“And what was that for, huh?”

“Fuck you.”

“Sensitive topic?”

“FUCK YOU!”

You grabbed his waist and forced him to his knees again. Trevor tried to resist but fell into your hands, murmuring complaints about the pain. He winced, trying to face you. But yet again, he failed. And he was beyond angered at his power being taken away.

“This is not FUCKIN’ funny, baby,” He whinged, “I hate you so much sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” You grinned.

“Mm, shut the fuck up…”

“C’mon. Admit it.”

“I said; shut the fuck up!”

“Fucking man up, Trevor. You’re on the floor with your cock fucked and your knees asleep – what are you gonna do? Encourage me to enjoy this more?” You caressed the back of his neck.

“Keep on going…” He whispered, almost quiet enough for you to miss.

“Sorry?”

“Keep going.”

A small smirk twitched and you crouched down, Trevor hesitantly putting his chin on your knee as he looked at you with an angry but lustful stare. He tried to lean closer, wanting a kiss, but he was refused and grunted when you dropped his head onto the floor again. He hit the floor and cursed your name menacingly.

“Fuck you, baby! I want you!”

“You wanted this, Trev?”

“Shut the fuck up and kill me already! Just end my life, make me cry!” He protested with desperation.

“You’re gonna be a man and last long for me?”

He nodded his head, “I wanna last long for you.”

“And you’re going to apologise? – “

“[y/n]! Please, just help me already!” Trevor complained and returned to his knees and hands, his dick burning red.

You laughed and shook your head with a small grin. Now that he was vulnerable and eager for your touch, it made it easier to gain a reaction. Your knee pressed against his backside and you forced him up, his back grinding against your thigh. Trevor closed his eyes as he felt your arms wrap around him, the skin-contact trailing from his stomach, closer to his arousal. He twitched with excitement, his hair mangled and skin tattered with oozing blood.

“So good for me, baby.” You praised and hugged his cock with your cold hands, massaging the tip and roughly mishandling the length to ensure your power is still prominent.

His whole body shook at your touch and he groaned when you demanded him to keep his hands away. It took some courage to follow your authorities, but it was worth it when you began stroking him, caressing his sore skin.

“Yes…” Trevor breathed, “Yes… Yes, that’s right.”

“You wanna be rubbed like the pervert that you are?”

“I’m a fuckin’… God! Yes!”

“Tell me how bad you want it, Trevor.”

He struggled to speak, “I – I… Oh, fuck… M’yeah. C’mon… Fuckin’ faster! Now! – “ Then he paused, dread clogging his throat when you clenched his cock.

“You want to continue being a little fucker?” You hissed in his ear.

“No… No, ma,” Trevor felt it get tighter as he whimpered, “I’m your fucker… I’m your pervert, God!”

“Say my name.”

“[y/n]…”

“Prefer me being in charge, baby?” You giggled, not used to seeing him so submissive.

“I love being treated like a rape toy, mommy!” And he had lost the plot, so emerged in his attraction.

You rubbed him harder and faster, your lips pressing down his neck as he was moaning frantically. From the way he was so stiff and hot, it was clear he had been holding a semi for a long, long time. It made you smirk. Trevor was so pathetic. He made it harder for himself – just so he could feel some pleasure in the end.

“I’m gonna cum – “

“What did I say?” Your lips moved against his skin.

“I – “ Trevor rolled his eyes back and dramatically growled, his hips jerking and cock twitching.

“Don’t cum yet.”

He panted, “Fuck you… Fuck you… Fuck you, I love you!”

“Easy. Concentrate on me, baby.”

“All for you, ma. All for you!”

“You’re so hard, sugar.” You held his body weight so he was forced to deal with you edging him. Even though he was erratic and fierce, you managed to keep him in check and he remained huddled in your arms, his cock being molested by your hands.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum!” He sobbed.

“You’re such a slut, Trevor.”

“Ohhh… Fuuuck!” His words mingled for so long that it would crack. Then it went silent before his body spazzed, his dick delivering a huge load of cum that squirted onto the floor that was stained with damp tears, blood, glass.

He had silently cried through the orgasm. You looked at Trevor, his face scrunched and tongue hanging out like a dog. You had overstimulated him too much that climaxing had become a huge revolution, almost as though he transported through time.

“All good, baby?” You asked.

It took a few seconds before he nodded.

“You sore?”

He nodded again, chest heaving in and out.

“Good boy…” You kissed his cheek.

“You’re killing me,” Trevor airily slurred, “You almost killed me.”

“I know.”

“Fuck… Fuck! Fuck you… That was so hot…”

“You gonna clean up now?”

“[y/n]!” He whined tiredly, “You punished me enough, baby…”

You’d smirk, “Fine. You’ve proven how much of a baby you are. I wouldn’t want to cross the line and over exhaust you.”

“Fuck you.”

“And stop insulting me. Who’s house are you in?”

“…Yours.”

“So treat this place with respect, and me.” You warned.

Trevor gave you a playful glare before nodding, “Fuckin’ fine…”

“Now stand up. You reek.”

#grand theft auto 5 #trevor philips #gta v #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto #gta 5 #trevor gta #grand theft auto v #trevor philips/reader #trevor philips x reader #trevor philips fanfiction #trevor philips headcanons #trevor philips/you #trevorphilips #grandtheftauto5 #my fanfic #my fanfic writing #my fanfiction

[withlovewriting]

All I Ever Knew, Only You 9: When The Party's Over

Chapter Nine.

I wanna feel something, I wanna feel something, I drink to feel something, I sleep and feel nothing, Maybe that's where you come in, Maybe that's where you and I begin

Summary: Hawkins was your typical quaint, mid-western town where nothing ever happened. People were born here, lived their entire lives within the town limits, and eventually died here, peacefully in their sleep. But one cold November evening in 1983 would change everything.

Despite a child with psychokinetic abilities and ravenous monsters that lacked faces, stranger things had definitely happened in the small town in Indiana. One of them being your reluctant and slightly imposed friendship with Hawkins High’s own King Bee, Steve Harrington.

Characters: Steve Harrington x Non-descriptive F!Reader (eventual)

Words: 5,839

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of menstruation (not really a warning, but here you go), mild Nancy slander, Billy Hargrove getting a little too comfortable, derogatory name calling, strong language, mentions of scars, and insecurities regarding them, heartbroken Steve, reader is wasted, but more bonding.

Season's greetings, babes.

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of drug use, canon-typical violence, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, child abuse, slow burn, kinda enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, I like to call it ‘two idiots who begrudgingly befriend each other only to realize… ‘wait a damn minute…’, eventual sexual content, no use of y/n, canon-typical time-period bullshit. 18+. Minors DNI.

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Chapter Nine: When The Party's Over

The exhaustion had finally got to you. That was the only plausible reason you had for entertaining Billy Hargrove for so long without swinging at his annoyingly pretty face.

You’d only approached him that morning to speak to Max as she exited his Camaro, but the boy had leered at you over the roof of the car the entire time as he puffed away on a cigarette. Unfortunately, he seemed to take that as an invitation to pester you for the rest of the day.

“I don’t have time for this right now, Hargrove.”

The sound of his boots hitting the linoleum flooring told you he wasn’t giving up any time soon, “It’s cool, I can walk and talk. I ain’t got nowhere to be.”

“I’m pretty sure you have a class to be in, actually,” you rolled your eyes, continuing your march to your destination.

“You know my schedule already? How sweet. But look, it’ll be my first party here in Hawkins, you gotta make it.”

Scoffing, you pushed onward toward the library. Somewhere you weren’t sure Billy knew existed, “I haven’t gotta do anything. Plus, Hawkins' parties are all lame. I wouldn’t hold your breath for this one to be different.”

“It’ll be a whole lot less lame with me there, sweetheart,” Billy was on your heels, practically trying to mount your back as you finally pushed through the doors, halting a little too quickly as the door hit the wall, which caused the boy to bump into your back as all eyes cast over you as he laid an arm over your shoulder, “Who knows, you might even crack a smile.”

Spinning on your heel and effectively removing yourself from the boy’s grip, you pushed at Billy’s chest — frown deepening when he barely moved an inch — and huffed, “I’m not in the mood, Hargrove. So leave me alone.”

Stomping off, your fingers dug into your bag as you held it against your chest as if it would magically stave off the unwanted attention from the surrounding students. Especially the attention of the boy with the coffee-colored eyes that you could feel boring into you from the moment you barreled into the room.

You hadn’t been actively avoiding Steve, per se. But with the embarrassment you felt last night still running hot under your skin, you didn’t have the willpower to be around him. You’d felt disconcertingly vulnerable under his unwavering gaze last night, and deep down, a part of you still expected to find him in the cafeteria with his old posse of jerks giggling at your expense.

Sure, he hadn’t bothered with Tommy or Carol since last year so your paranoia seemed unjust, but you knew old habits died hard.

“It’s not my fault you’re on the rag or something,” Billy shouted crudely across the library, clearly not trying to be subtle or considerate, before turning on his heels and making his way toward whoever his next victim was, ignoring the annoyed hissed whispers of the librarian.

You’d kept your head down throughout your free period and you could only be grateful that both Nancy and Steve had kept their distance. You had a history project to finish, and truth be told you hadn’t even started yet, and the distraction of Romeo and Juliet wouldn’t be much appreciated.

Once you were settled, you swiftly made your way across the room and toward the small supply office to browse through the encyclopedias, however you skidded to a stop when you pushed open the door only to come face-to-face with the boy you were absolutely not avoiding on purpose, and his girlfriend.

“Jesus, is nowhere in this school sacred to you two? Can’t you just go make out in the back of Harrington’s car like normal teenagers?”

The boy rolled his eyes at you as Nancy stepped out of his grasp, “I think we should tell Barb’s parents-”

With wide eyes, you scrambled into the room and shut the door behind you, already shaking your head, “Are you insane? We can’t tell Barb’s parents. We can’t tell anyone.”

“You were there, you saw what it’s doing to them.” Nancy was clearly in distress and although your heart went out to her parents, you couldn’t even begin to imagine the repercussions you’d all face if you were to open your mouths.

“I get it, Nance. Really, I do. But we can’t tell them anything. God knows what the Lab would do. What the government would do. The Byers and I would have to pay back the hospital fees and-”

“This isn’t about the money,” Nancy huffed, her head shaking as you stared at you with indignation, but you cut her off quickly,

“That’s because you grew up with a silver spoon shoved in your ass, Wheeler. Do you know what it would do to Mrs. Byers? To Will and Jonathan? To me? When you don’t have money, it factors into everything.”

Nancy was on the verge of tears, but you could flip a coin for which one of you was on the verge of hysteria, “We don’t have to tell them everything.”

This time, Steve spoke up, making his way to stand in between you both, “This isn’t some game, Nance. If they found out we told anyone… They could put us in jail, okay? Or worse, they could destroy our families. They could do anything they want, okay? Just think about what you’re saying.”

As Nancy’s bottom lip wobbled, you couldn’t help but feel guilty. But she knew — just as well as both yourself and Steve did — that she couldn’t tell a soul.

“It’s hard, but let’s…” Steve perched himself back on the table, a hand soothingly running up and down Nancy’s arm, “let's just go to Tina’s stupid party, wear our stupid costumes that we’ve been working on for a stupid amount of time, and just pretend like we’re stupid teenagers, okay? Can we just do that, just for tonight?”

Despite Steve’s attempt, Nancy didn’t seem pacified. In fact, she seemed dejected as she agreed to his plan before making her way out of the small room, not bothering to send you a second glance.

Releasing a deep sigh, the boy stood and ran a hand through his hair, leaning against one of the bookshelves as your shoulders sagged, “She’s going to get us all killed.”

“Don’t say that, alright? She’s just… She’s hurting.”

Clenching your jaw, you shook your head at the boy as you looked off to the side. Noting his thoughtlessness, he squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, “Not to say that you’re not too. But Nance just…”

“She feels guilty, Harrington. She feels guilty because she left Barb that night to shack up with you,” lifting a hand, you stopped him from interrupting you, “I’m not blaming her. Like, at all. Okay? I shouldn’t have left, and Nancy shouldn’t have let her leave. But we did, and telling her parents, putting everyone’s life at risk, isn’t going to change that.”

Steve remained quiet, but his eyes softened, and you knew he had to bite back whatever reassurance was sitting on the tip of his tongue. You didn’t want it, and you didn’t need it. It would only fall on deaf ears, anyway.

Instead, Steve’s head fell backward, a quiet thump that barely shook the rickety bookcase behind him.

“I think the party would do you some good, too. The new guy seems pretty insistent that you’re there.”

Scoffing, you moved toward the boy, leaning up to grab at the first encyclopedia your fingers grazed, unbothered by the letter. You watched as Steve’s Adam's apple bobbed, his eyes remained focused on you until you turned, strolling out of the small room, throwing the encyclopedia into your bag before making a hasty exit. The list of people you definitely weren’t purposely avoiding was growing by the minute.

“Hop, hey Hopper!” You called out, chasing down the man as he marched out of the station.

He stopped in front of his car, waiting as you pulled up on your bike, sans helmet. Again.

“Can this wait, Kid? I’m in a hurry-”

“I just… I wanted to double-check about the trick-or-treating thing tonight. I can make sure-”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” Jim asked, peering down at his watch.

Chewing your lip for a second, you cleared your throat, “I have a free period.”

Cocking a brow, Hopper watched you silently for just a moment, “So if I called the school, they’d confirm that, right?”

“Confidential, I’m afraid. You’re not my parent or guardian so…” You sent him a haughty smirk, relishing the way his face pinched slightly.

“I’m the damn Chief of police, Kid. I can-”

“Trick-or-treating. Yes, or no.”

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times. No, and that’s final.”

Rolling your eyes, you pushed forward on your bike slightly and lowered your voice, “C’mon, Hop. You can’t treat her like a prisoner of war. You know what happens when you cage a dog?”

“The hell are you talking-”

“They start to bite. And when they finally get out, they start to run.”

Hopper lifted his hat to run a hand over his hair, a long, irritated sigh falling from his lips, and you knew he’d had this argument a million and one times with El, “I said no. End of. Now get back to school.”

“The hell is that smell?” you questioned, nose scrunched up as you tried to breathe through your mouth instead.

Pulling back the cover of Eugene McCorkle’s truck, you found yourself gagging as the awful, pungent smell of decay finally filled your nostrils, “That is why I’m in a hurry. Now if that’s all, I gotta go. And put a damn helmet on.”

Jonathan Byers didn’t cancel on you. In fact, he even offered to pick you up after finally deciding to allow his brother to trick-or-treat alone with his friends.

“She’s evil, I swear.” You told him as you searched through your mother’s chest of drawers, thankful she was out.

“She’s like… ten.” Jonathan laughed, leaning on the door frame, politely refusing to enter your mother’s bedroom.

Rolling your eyes, you continued to dig, “She’s actually nine, but still… Evil. We hit Cherry Street, and she managed to bully Mr. Benson into giving her three full-sized Butterfingers bars.”

Despite not seeing the boy's face, you could almost hear the amused smirk in his tone, “Oh, wow. I better call The Hawkins Post, let them know there’s a new Stalin about town.”

“Shut it, Byers.” Snatching up the yellow button-up shirt that you knew was hidden somewhere with a devilish smirk, you pushed yourself upright and almost skipped back to your room, the door shutting in Jonathan’s face before you began to change.

“You know, you don’t have to dress up, right?”

Jonathan didn’t hear your mumbled response as you pulled your black vest over your head, but a small huff of laughter fell from his lips when you finally opened the door, “Black Christmas?”

“You know that we still have time to ask Bob if you can borrow his Dracula costume, right?”

House keys half-shoved into your back pocket, you clambered into Jonathan’s Ford, already rummaging through his glove compartment to find whichever tape picked your fancy. The boy waited until you settled on a familiar yellow and black cassette.

Waiting until he pulled out of his driveway, and the second verse of Burning Down The House transitioned into the chorus, Jonathan — who had most definitely not asked Bob for his costume — finally asked the question that he had been swallowing down since his arrival at your house,

“Are you okay?”

His troubled glance burned a hole in the side of your face, but you refused to meet his eyes, “I’m fine, Jonathan.”

“This just… doesn’t seem your kind of thing.”

“And what, it’s yours?” You didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh, “Didn’t realize you were such a social butterfly, Byers.”

Sighing, Jonathan’s fingers tapped at the distressed steering wheel as he returned his gaze to the road, “I don’t know why the hell either of us are going. I mean, we’re going to hate at least 90% of the people there, right?”

Unable to hide the stretch of a smile from your lips, you finally chanced a look at the boy, grateful that his eyes remained focused on the road out ahead of him, “90%? Have you made friends that aren’t me?”

The boy shook his head, a small smile tugging at his own mouth as you grabbed the orange paper invitation that was sat on his dash, “And we’re going because we’re gonna be stupid teenagers, doing stupid things, at a stupid Halloween party. Plus, we’re gonna get sheet-faced, Byers.”

The party was in full swing by the time you’d arrived, and since you’d promised Jonathan that you’d be ready to leave by 9pm to pick up Will, you didn’t plan on wasting one second of your time.

Tina’s family home sat on Oak and First, and much like Steve Harrington’s house, it was huge and surrounded by the woods. Whilst it was great to know the chances of any neighbors calling the cops were minimal, one glance at the vast, dark treeline set you off enough to refill your cup. You didn’t know how much you’d had to drink, nor did you have any idea as to what was in the punch, bar Drew practically burping in your face that it was pure fuel. All you knew was that it tasted like grape juice. Grape juice with a lot of Tina’s parent's expensive vodka.

Turns out, Nancy was also on a mission to get absolutely wasted.

A loud cheer came from outside, and the chants of the new boy’s name could be heard even over the shredding of guitars of Motley Crew. You weren’t sure who had jacked Tina’s record player, but you were at least grateful that it was a break from back-to-back Madonna.

Ignoring the way Billy stared at you as he passed, making his way toward Steve and no doubt attempting to start trouble, you wobbled toward Jonathan, a drink in each hand.

“Oh shit, Siouxsie Sioux, right?”

The girl, Samantha — with whom you shared art class together — nodded, sending an amused, but tight smile, “Yeah. What are you?”

“Drunk,” Jonathan’s voice was loud next to you, “She’s drunk.”

Rolling your eyes, you purposely gulped down a large mouthful from your solo cup as you offered the other to Jonathan, “And you are sober. Time to catch up, Byers.”

“I’m driving,” shaking his head, Jonathan’s eyes darted around the party, and even in your drunken stupor, you knew who he was looking for.

So instead, you shrugged and took a sip from his cup, “Sucks to be you. Have a good night, Siouxsie.”

Stumbling around the party like Bambi on ice, you almost dropped both of your cups as Drew pushed past, his once rosy, alcohol-flushed cheeks now appeared to be tinged with the slightest shade of green as he rushed out toward the garden,

“Hey, Dipshit!” You halfheartedly yelled after him, eyebrows drawn together as you tried to decipher which one of the two Drews you were currently seeing was the real one, “Watch where you’re going!”

“Jesus, how much have you had to drink?”

Face still pinched, you turned to face the familiar voice, barely holding back the sigh that threatened to fall from you lips, “Oh God, it’s you.”

“Charming,” the boy scoffed, eyes darting around the room to find his girlfriend — who was merrily dancing away, her own drink high above her head — before he returned his attention to you, “Seriously though, you good?”

“I am great.”

Steve was certain it was the first time he’d ever heard you giggle.

Watching you like a hawk, Steve grabbed hold of the half-full red solo cup just before it met your lips, “I think you should slow down a little.”

“I think you should mind your own business, Steven.”

Finally managing to wrangle the cup from your grasp — which really wasn’t that hard considering your state — he placed it on the side, allowing his eyes to dart toward his girlfriend once more, “Is this about the other night? About the nightmares? Because I swear I didn’t-.”

“So you decided to show,” Billy’s smirk was wide, his eyes leering over you despite your outfit being pretty conservative, “You wanna try out the keg? You’re looking at the new King of Hawkins High.”

Your face remained stoic, unsure as to why Billy thought that would impress you, “I’m fine, thanks.”

“You wanna dance then?”

Nodding, you pointed at Billy, “Now that… That is something I wanna do.”

Steve watched as you took a large gulp from the cup he hadn’t seen, allowing Billy to begin to lead you toward the crowd. He called your name once, twice, three times, before you stopped, turning to watch him approach you with concern etched over his features, “C’mon, this isn’t like you.”

Sending the boy a sardonic smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, you peeled his gentle grip from your elbow, “That’s the thing, Steve. You don’t know me. You don’t know me, at all.”

Even as you turned to walk away again, Steve called after you, his voice full of hurt, but Billy was the one to intervene this time, a condescending smirk tugging at his lips, “You heard the girl, Harrington. Go find your girlfriend.”

Lips pressed tightly together, Steve huffed and decided that if you didn’t want his help, he would in fact go find his girlfriend. Turns out, it wasn’t exactly hard as Nancy was standing by the punch bowl, helping herself to another drink.

The party was fun for a while, you wouldn’t bother to deny that, but it was only so long that you could handle feeling so out of control. The room was spinning, and you couldn’t tell if things were moving too slowly, or a little too fast, and you felt like you didn’t know up from down. The only grounding force you had was the chest pressed against your back as Billy held you against him, hips gyrating a little too promiscuously, not that you were in any state to notice.

The smell of sweat, smoke, and aftershave that was just a little too strong for your liking hit your nostrils before the pungent, overwhelming smell of alcohol covered it, “So who’d you come as?”

“Jess Bradford,” you mumbled, eyes closed and head resting against the boy as you swayed clumsily to Duran Duran, scoffing loudly when Billy questioned who that was, “You know, from Black Christmas? 'The calls are coming from the house.'”

“Why the hell are you dressed as someone from a Christmas film?”

Out of all the times you’d wanted to slap Billy, this might’ve been the one time you would’ve, had your hand-eye coordination been any good.

“I thought you might’ve come as something a little sexier, you know?” Billy’s lips grazed the side of your neck, the hairs from his mustache tickling you in the worst of ways, “Maybe a little pussycat, or a-”

“Why would a cat be sexy?” You slurred, body no longer moving to the music as you tried to clear your bleary vision, completely unaware of the argument that was going on back in the kitchen, “God, you’re so weird-”

The words died from your mouth as your whole body stood still in shock, one hand clutched against Billy’s wandering one as it grazed over your abdomen, hand shoved between your vest and your shirt. Pushing his hand away, you tried to create some kind of distance, but the boy wouldn’t allow for it, turning you in his grip instead,

“Hey, c’mon, don’t be like that.”

“I’m not being like anything, just get off of me. I wanna go home,” when the boy moved closer, a haughty smirk pulling at his lips, you shoved your hand limply to his chest as if to move him back, “Alone. I wanna go home alone.”

His smirk dropped instantly, eyes narrowing as he looked over you, “The hell is wrong with you? One minute you’re all over me, the next you’re acting like a total prude.”

“I wasn’t-” slurring, you wobbled slightly where you stood, expression pinched, “I wasn’t all over you. You… You were all over me.”

“Last I heard, a little bit of alcohol and you turn into the county slut-”

His words stopped abruptly as your hand connected with his cheek. Even though you were wasted and your arms felt like cooked spaghetti, the darkening in both his cheek and his eyes told you it had at least hurt a little,

“You wanna go home, then fine. Go. Nobody here gives a shit.”

Refusing to allow your bottom lip to wobble until you were outside and far enough away, you stumbled out of Tina’s house, refusing to make eye contact with any of the passersby. However much of a dick he was, Billy was right.

Nobody in that party cared. Jonathan was here for one reason, and whilst you couldn’t blame him, you knew you were just along for the ride. The only friend — the only true friend — you’d had, had been dragged into the pits of Hell by some monster. The same monster who’d left a permanent reminder on your body in the form of three large, ugly scars along your abdomen. The same scars that Billy had — albeit, unwittingly — ran his hand over as he tried to feel you up.

Making your way to the end of Tina’s drive, you plopped yourself down on the curb, cursing yourself as you rummaged around in your pockets for a cigarette, only to come up empty-handed.

The first tear fell, but you wiped it away almost viciously, refusing to allow any more to fall. But you were drunk and tired — both emotionally and physically — and you just wanted this night to be over. This year to be over.

A pair of white Nike trainers came into view, stopping directly in front of you and causing you to crane your neck.

There, with bloodshot eyes and flushed cheeks, stood Steve Harrington, his large hand held out in front of him, waiting to assist you up, “C’mon, I’ll drive you home.”

You both remained silent for the most part, your eyes drooping every so often, before shooting open when your head would bump the window, a quiet murmur of ‘sorry’ from the boy next to you.

Groaning, you forced your eyes shut, the image of the passing trees making you feel nauseous, “You’re not gonna hurl, are you?”

“No,” you hiccuped, swallowing down the excessive saliva that was building up in your mouth, “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” the boy said quietly, eyes darting toward you as you curled in on yourself, sending him a half-assed glare.

“Yeah, well… Neither do you.”

A short, humorless laugh fell from his lips before he wiped at his nose, pinching the tip of it, “Yeah well, not everyone had as good of a night as you, I guess.”

“I don’t think having Billy Hargrove grinding against me is my definition of a good night.” Sighing, you ran your hand over your face, ignorant of any makeup you had probably smudged.

“Sure looked like you enjoyed it,” Steve’s eyes darted toward you, squeezing his eyes together for just a second, “I’m sorry. That was… Look, it’s none of my business, alright?”

Folding your arms over your chest, you leaned your head against the window, “You’re right. It’s not.”

Pulling up to your house, you noted your mother’s car gone from the small driveway, and you were willing to thank whatever higher power was out there until you stood patting your dark pants in an attempt to find your keys,

Thankfully, Steve was waiting until you were safely inside the house to pull away, but when you came up empty-handed he sighed and quickly exited his car, following you as you fumbled with the front room window, eventually turning your attention to the overgrown garden, “Just… Just get back in the car.”

“I’m sure I can get in through at least one window-”

Steve’s eyes widened, grabbing hold of your wrist as you lifted your arm, ready to throw a large rock you’d found straight through your bedroom window. Drunken logic, he assumed,

“Look, we don’t need to add breaking and entering to your charge sheet. Just… get back in the car. You can stay at mine.”

“It wouldn’t be breaking and entering if I’m breaking and entering my own property, dumbass,” you scoffed but allowed him to gently pull you toward his car once more, stumbling over your Converse.

Within the blink of an eye — or maybe you’d just had a five-minute nap — you were pulling up to Steve’s familiar house, the bright red door almost taunting you at the one memory you had of this place, and the stark reminder that things would never be the same again.

“My folks are home, so you’ve gotta be quiet, alright?”

Steve cringed as you slammed his car door accidentally, eyes widened as you turned to him, “…Sorry.”

After assessing the top floor windows, thanking his lucky stars that his parents seemingly remained fast asleep, he helped you into the house and up the stairs.

Delicately closing his bedroom door, Steve finally turned to you, rolling his eyes as you fell face first onto his bed, before making his way toward his chest of drawers and pulling out an old shirt, “Here, you can wear this if you want.”

Your head popped up, face pinched in disgust, “When did you last wash your sheets?”

Steve was certain that by this point, he’d seen the back of his eye sockets a million times, “Calm down, they’re clean. Just… change into that, and I’ll be back.”

Eventually pulling yourself upright, you managed to wrestle yourself out of the black vest as you grumbled to yourself the entire time before flopping back down onto the bed, unable to care that sleeping in your slim-fit yellow button-up shirt would be mildly uncomfortable at best. When Steve finally made his way back to the room — a gentle, wary knock before he reentered — he found you tucked under the navy blue comforter, his spare shirt still on the edge of the bed where he’d left it. Steve placed the cold glass of water down on the bedside table, along with the bottle of aspirin he’d brought up. Placing his hands on his hips, Steve let out a long sigh as he looked around his room, unsure of what to do.

It had been a long night, and despite Steve wanting to go to bed, he was somewhat grateful for the distraction you’d given him. He’d been warned a long time ago when he was much smaller, that crying was a weakness, even in the privacy of his own bedroom.

“Steve,” your voice was barely above a whisper, but it made him jump a little anyway, “I’m sorry I was a total bitch earlier.”

A small huff of laughter fell from his lips as he grabbed a pillow from his bed, throwing it to the floor before making his way to the cupboard, grabbing his summer comforter, “After the night I’ve had, it’s nothing.”

Flicking off the light switch and making sure his bedroom door was locked, Steve finally made himself comfortable on the floor beside the bed, his foot knocking against his desk every so often as he shuffled in an attempt to get comfortable. Releasing a sigh, Steve rolled back onto his back, gazing at the moon outside his bedroom window.

He used to have everything.

The popularity, the friends, even the girl. And now, everything was in turmoil, ripped out like a rug from under his feet, and Steve felt like he was forever falling. He was stupid to think that tonight could’ve been the night he finally felt normal again.

Rolling onto your stomach, you peered down at the boy in silence, watching as he became lost in his own thoughts. Despite the remainder of his previous summer's sunkissed skin, the moonlight washed him out, betraying the dark circles that nestled under his red-rimmed eyes. Eyes that appeared much darker.

You wouldn’t pretend that you knew Steve well. In fact, most of the things you knew about Steve could be counted on one hand. One thing you were learning, however, was that when Steve was upset, he’d become pensive. Quiet. Un-Steve like. Watching him like that — in an almost silent trance as his eyes grew dull, losing focus — tugged at your heartstrings in a way you didn’t appreciate.

“Why are you sad?”

Blinking a few times, Steve managed to pull himself out of the never-ending spiral that long, quiet nights alone seemed to inevitably end in, his eyes instead turning toward you as his brows pushed together, “I’m not sad.”

“Tell that to your face,” you didn’t have it in you to roll your eyes, instead remaining laser-focused on the boy, “because you look like a kicked puppy.”

Steve, however, did roll his eyes. Releasing a sigh, he crossed his arms over his chest, wriggling a little to get comfortable, “I’m not sad, I’m just… It's been a long night.”

A long year.

His tone was final, evident that he didn’t intend to divulge you any further into his problems, so you remained silent, still peering at him over the edge of his bed. Eventually, the pinch between his brows settled, eyes gazing back toward you, “Why were you crying?”

“I wasn’t crying,” you grumbled, burrowing yourself into the soft comforter, “I just… Also had a long night.”

“Hargrove?”

Your silence, only interrupted by a long, deep sigh, told the boy that he was correct.

“He’s an asshole.”

A short silence, followed by a slight sniffle and a defeated ‘yeah’ caused the boy to furrow his brow, hand slowly moving toward where yours hung off the bed slightly, fingers grazing your wrist as he tapped it to get your attention back, “He didn’t try anything, did he?”

Your glossy eyes refused to meet his, focusing on the moon that looked like it was about to roll right across the sky, “It’s Hargrove, he’s always trying something.”

Watching as you gnawed your bottom lip, knowing it would be sore by the morning, Steve waited patiently as you tried to rearrange your thoughts.

If you hadn’t drunk so much, you probably wouldn’t have entertained his curiosity, and Steve knew if Nancy hadn’t ripped out his heart in Tina’s bathroom, he wouldn’t have grasped at someone else’ tribulations, needing to do anything to keep his mind from imploding in on itself with questions he didn’t have the answers to.

“Last year,” your voice was as quiet as a mouse. Trepidation and dubiety wound tight on your tongue, burning like acid as you dug through the memories you’d been trying so hard to repress the past 11 months, “when that thing attacked me… Well, let's just say it left a pretty gnarly scar.”

Remaining silent, Steve watched as your throat bobbed, taking in your words even if they were still slightly slurred. Steve had a scar on his left knee from falling off his bike when he was younger, the thin, white line had become nothing more than a passing thought throughout the years, but now, watching your chin wobble slightly as you tried to find the words, it felt like the most important information he had.

“I just… Billy grazed over it, you know? He doesn't even know it's there, but… I see it every morning, and it makes me… It makes me sick. And then I realize that I’m so lucky that all that monster did was leave a scar because, for all we know, it ripped Barb apart. But I… I just hate it, and I hate that fucking Demogorgon, and I hate that I will forever have that reminder on my body. ”

Wiping your eyes with the comforter, you shook your head, “I’m sorry. It’s so fucking stupid.”

“When I was seven, my Dad tried to teach me how to ride a bike,” his words were enough to pull you from your downfall, tear-filled eyes finally connecting with his, “he gave up pretty quickly, didn’t like it when I wasn’t automatically good at something. Every afternoon after school, for like, a whole week, I’d force myself back out on that bike. I knew I had to learn because I had to prove my Dad wrong.”

Your eyes remained on him, feeling comfort from his warm, soft gaze, even if his sudden switch in conversation had thrown you through a loop, “What happened?”

“I fell off, busted my knee on the driveway. Got a pretty badass scar myself-”

“-Harrington-”

“-But, I kept going. Picked myself up, dusted myself off, and carried on. And then one afternoon, I just… I did it. Pushed off and sailed down the street.”

Sniffling a little, you watched him with a furrowed brow, “Does this story have a point, or are you just trying to send me to sleep?”

The shadow of a smirk tugged at the side of his lips, but he did his best to repress it, “What I’m trying to say is… Actually, I don’t really know what I’m trying to say. But I do know that your scar, it might be a reminder of all the shit that went down last year, but it also shows that you survived it, came out the other end, you know? And you shouldn’t… You shouldn’t care about what anything thinks about it, especially not Hargrove.”

Blinking away the tears that had settled along your lash line, you remained silent as you watched the boy watching you. Never in your wildest dreams would you expect Steve Harrington — Hawkins's own knockoff version of Tom Cruise, if you asked him at least — to be the one to comfort you over a deep-rooted insecurity. You’d heard the ways his gaggle of friends would loudly mock other students — yourself included on occasion — everything from their hair to their music taste, the acne on their forehead to the braces that lined their teeth. Like sharks, they were able to smell insecurity from 3 miles away and didn’t hesitate to go in for the kill.

But from your position on the comfortable bed, peering down at the boy who somehow looked much younger and much older all at the same time, you realized that the Steve Harrington you thought you knew was slowly but surely evolving. A caterpillar that had entered the first stage of metamorphosis. And only time would tell if he came out a moth or a butterfly.

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut

[artiststarme]

Shakespeare? Gay as hell

Based on this post about Eddie getting held back for writing about gay characters in Shakespeare. Thanks to @lunaraindrop for needing more of his essays! I hope you guys like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Many relationships can be observed in William Shaksepeare’s Romeo and Juliet. However, the most important relationship is not between the famous star-crossed lovers. No, instead the most important relationship is between Tybalt and Mercutio, another pair of star-crossed lovers often overlooked by the conservative, religious audience of the play. This relationship highlights the struggles of the homosexual community in the fourteenth century as well as those that still exist today. By analyzing the tragic gay relationship between Tybalt of the Capulets and Mercutio of the Montague side, efforts can be made in the present day to prevent tragic endings to gay relationships in the 80s.  

Eddie didn’t know why he got called into the principal’s office. He was three weeks into the school year and he hadn’t even done anything yet. He’d been attending all of his classes despite how goddamn early they were and he’d been turning in all of his schoolwork. They had no reason to pull him from his lunch and tentative new Hellfire members. 

His confusion only grew when he saw Wayne sitting awkwardly in one of the office chairs. “Uncle Wayne? What are you doing here?”

“Hell if I know,” he grumbled. “They said it was important that I be here. Boy, I haven't been in the principal’s office in over thirty years. What the hell did you do?”

Eddie threw his hands up in defensive surrender. “I haven’t done anything! Whatever they say is lies and slander! I’m innocent!”

He heard a scoff behind him and turned around to see Mrs. O’Donnell, his senior English teacher. She was a rigid old woman that wore three too many layers and went home every night to her twenty-seven cats and no husband, or at least that’s what Eddie assumed. She was standing next to an unimpressed Principal Higgins that glared at Eddie when their eyes met. 

“Sit down, Mr. Munson. Now, we’ve called you both here today to discuss some concerns. It seems that Edward here has some… perversions that we are concerned about.”

“Perversions?!” Eddie shrieked. What the fuck?

Uncle Wayne sat up straighter in his seat. “No, that’s not Eddie. I don’t know what this is regardin’ but my Eddie is a good kid so you must be mistaken.”

Mrs. O’Donnell slapped his latest essay on Hamlet down on the desk in front of Wayne. “Read it! He’s disgraced one of the grandest plays of all time!”

Everyone sat in silence for a moment while Wayne read his paper. Both Principal Higgins and Mrs. O’Donnell looked almost giddy as they waited for Wayne to start yelling at him and his ‘perversions’. Instead though, Wayne just hummed and leaned back in his seat.

“I think it’s great, wonderfully written. The sex scene between Tybalt and Mercutio was a little graphic for my taste but it was beautifully written. Eddie always has had a gift for writing stories.”

Mrs. O’Donnell’s jaw dropped in the utmost offense. “Excuse me?! This is not ‘wonderfully written’, this is a travesty on Shakespeare’s good name!”

“You’re his teacher, ain’t you? You should be happy that your teaching is inspiring such creativity. Great job on your part,” Uncle Wayne told her. 

Principal Higgins dismissed them hurriedly and as they left, they could hear Mrs. O’Donnell’s shrill screeching from down the hall.

He didn’t pass her class that year.

~*~*~*~

In the play Hamlet written by William Shakespeare, the most important theme is love. The love between King Hamlet and his son allows his ghost to appear from beyond the grave to pass along important information to aid in revenge. The false love between Claudius and Gertrude causes revenge to spark and ultimately people to die. Perhaps most notably, the romantic relationship between Hamlet and Horatio proves the most important. It shows that love can persist beyond heterosexually bearded relationships, as Hamlet’s is with Ophelia. Furthermore, it shows that love can exceed death, as Horatio’s feelings continue even after Hamlet’s death when he kills Claudius in revenge. 

Honestly, the calls down to the principal’s office had become routine. Eddie was always being pulled out of class whether it was for goading on the basketball team, stealing Billy Hargrove’s clothes while he was in the shower, or allegedly selling marijuana to freshmen. It was always something. 

But when he walked in to find Wayne sitting uncomfortably in the office chair once again with Mrs. O’Donnell and Principal Higgins standing behind the desk, he let out a groan of annoyance. 

“Jesus Christ, can you not just let me live my life?”

“Eddie, don’t talk like that. Treat them with respect,” Wayne scolded him. 

“Mr. Munson, I don’t want you exposing my eyes to your homosexual writing urges. Unlike you, William Shakespeare was not a faggot!”

“Now you wait a damn minute,” Wayne said, whirling around to face Mrs. O’Donnell. “It ain’t my Eddie’s fault that this Shakespeare fellow was writing about gay characters in his plays. Just because Eddie is noticing them doesn’t give you the right to put him down or spread your lies. Grade his paper properly like you should be doing and stop trying to stomp all over my boy’s creativity!”

Uncle Wayne grabbed his arm and pulled him all the way out of the school to his truck. They drove to the diner a town over, the best place now that Benny’s was closed. He turned to Eddie in the cab of the truck and rested a calloused hand on his shoulder. 

“Look Eds, people are always gonna try and put you down but it’s your job never to stay there, alright? They don’t like your paper because it's too gay in their eyes? Write some more, do what makes you happy. And if you are gay, that’s okay too. I’ll always love you no matter what.”

By the time he’d finished, Eddie had tears dripping down his face. “I’m so sorry, Uncle Wayne. I didn’t want to be and I tried so hard-”

“Hey, stop that. There’s nothing wrong with being gay and you can’t believe anyone that says that there is, you hear me? Now c’mon, let’s get some burgers and you can tell me about any crushes you have at school. Any handsome fellas around here, you think?”

From that day forward, Eddie stops putting filters on his writing. Wayne told him that there was nothing wrong with him and he’d never lied to him before. He started making every character in his essays gay, he even added some gay characters to his campaigns and when no one questioned him, he centered the entire campaign around a lesbian elf saving her girlfriend from a horde of homophobic goblins. His friends didn’t so much as blink and Wayne beamed at him in pride when he told him about it later.

No, he didn’t pass his English class that year either but he remained true to himself and according to Wayne, that was the best thing he could do.

~*~*~*~

In the play Macbeth by William Shakespeare, the major theme of the play is homosexuality. This can be observed when Lady Macbeth convinces her husband to start killing all of the men that she thinks had a crush on him such as Duncan and Banquo. However, it can be seen most prominently when Lady Macbeth kills herself, may she rest in peace, because she realizes that despite all of her actions, Macbeth will remain fucking gay as hell. 

Eddie received a note from Mrs. O’Donnell the last class before Spring Break that summoned him to the Principal’s Office upon his return to school. However, with the murder accusations, earthquakes, and sheer amount of deaths, his summons was thrown to the back of everyone’s minds. 

Eddie graduated that year, passing Mrs. O’Donnell’s class with a pity A- but passing nonetheless. He walked across the stage with Uncle Wayne and the Party in the audience, ignoring the slurs and hate being screamed at him and focusing on Steve’s wolf whistling. Afterwards, everyone went back to the same diner that Wayne had taken him to a year prior and they celebrated the fact that he finally graduated. Who knew that all he had to do was remain true to himself and win over Mrs. O’Donnell?

(Or maybe it was the horrific events over Spring Break that allowed everyone to graduate despite how bad their grades were, but no one will ever know.)

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#stranger things #fanfic #eddie munson #uncle wayne #wayne munson

[twilightmalachite]

Raison d'être - Prologue

Author: Akira

Characters: Shu, Mika

Translator: Mika Enstars

"Congratulations, Pinnochio! It’s great to be human, isn’t it!?"

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: Apartment in France

During ES’ first year of establishment. Mid-March, at the house in Paris Shu is boarding at…

Shu: So, how do I put it? I still feel I am being derided for using a string phone, you see!

Mika: What does “derided” mean again? What a pretty-soundin’ word~. ♪

Shu: So I feel I am being ridiculed, you see! How am I supposed to tell vulgar snobs that way back when I was a student, I had not yet become accustomed to civilization?

Mika: Nnah~, ain’t that a bit different from bein’ looked down on? Doesn’t he just find it amusin’?

Shu: Oh-ho, do you find a difference between the two? You consider the former to be slander and the latter to be well-intentioned?

Mika: I-I don’t really think into it that much…

What's got ya so upset, Oshi-san? Weren’t we just havin’ a fun talk over the rules we have in my room at Starmony Dorms? Just small talk?

Y’know~, how I’d put a put a string telephone out from my room, and my roommate would be thoughtful and say, “Ah, so Kagehira’s talking to his Oshi-san today, huh?”

Shouldn’t ya feel grateful or happy hearin’ somethin’ like that?

Shu: And I resent the fact that a string phone is automatically being associated with me.

I know for a fact that in the minds of those spiteful people back in Japan, I am still nothing but a picky, old-fashioned senior citizen requiring special care.

Hah! The fact they can’t update their personal judgment of me is proof that they are the ones aging!

Mika: That has nothin’ to do with me~? I don’t know what ya want me to say, Oshi-san!

What’s the matter? Did ya have a bad day at university?

Shu: Hmph. Nothing went wrong, it was uneventful and peaceful. Who do you think I am?

Mika: I’m worried ‘cause you’re you, Oshi-san!

Shu: Are you in a position to worry about others? Have you become someone so distinguished?

That’s right!! You are your own person now! You can walk around on your own without me always taking care of you, can’t you?

Congratulations, Pinnochio! It’s great to be human, isn’t it!?

Mika: (Nnah~… Oshi-san really is always irritated~… Whenever I get excited or get in a good mood, Oshi-san seems to get angry in turn.)

(But, what is it he’s really angry at, then? Well, it’s possible it might actually be my fault…)

(I don’t got any clue…)

(I even came all the way to Paris ‘cause Oshi-san told me “I want to take an occasion to talk about the future”, despite bein’ so busy at the end of the school year.)

(Not only did I not get praised, but he started gettin’ all irritated the moment I told him I wanted to continue livin’ at Starmony Dorms fer the next year.)

(I wonder why. I guess it’s not what Oshi-san had in mind fer me?)

(But y’know, Valkyrie basically only has work in Japan, so it’s more efficient to stay in the area.)

(I’m not like Oshi-san, I don’t have anythin’ in particular I wanna study abroad. And I wouldn’t be able t’get into the same university as Oshi-san with a brain like mine.)

(But if I go and say I wanna live with Oshi-san, it’d just be selfish, wouldn’t it?

(I’d end up bein’ a nuisance to those at the house Oshi-san’s boardin’ at, and I wouldn’t have anythin’ to do even if I live here, y’know?)

(It is lonely, but… It’s a pain t’have someone nestle up with ya just ‘cause they’re lonely, right, Oshi-san?)

Shu: Non! How come your hands have stopped moving, Kagehira-kuuun? Have I forgotten to wind up the mainspring?

Mika: Nnaaah, why’re ya callin’ me by “kun”? It makes it feel like we’ve grown apart, it makes me sad!

Shu: It’s about right, isn’t it? Aren’t you always being overly-familiar? Thanks to that, I’ve even misjudged the distance between you and I!

I had been so deluded from that, I even had been preparing a new life for you and everything, in earnest! I’d even bowed my head to the landlady, secured you a room, and even furnished it! Everything was in order, kakaka!

Well, it all was done for naught! I’ve jumped to conclusions and rashly did something so excessive, laugh at my foolishness!

Mika: Nnah~…? I-If it’s what ya want, Oshi-san, I’ll get started on the moving procedures, then?

Shu: No, not necessary! I don’t know what I was doing, take the furniture and everything else I’ve prepared for you back to Japan, sell it, and use that money to fund Valkyrie’s activities!

While you’re at it, take back the work I’ve made in the past year and sell those off too! I’m confident that they’ll be sold for a reasonable price!

Our performance at SS, the war between worlds, was not very satisfactory, after all…

To think I was made to engage in a slapstick we were not accustomed to, if anything our reputations have been tarnished.

In order to wipe away these defects, we shall use the funds from selling everything off to develop a new artistic venture!

Practically, this is no time to get carried away with a new life!

Mika: My bad… I had no idea ya were lookin’ forward to livin’ with me so much, Oshi-san…

Shu: Me!? To what?! What was I looking forward to!?

Don’t go acting too cocky! You know, it’s because of you always leading me on that I’ve misunderstood—

Hm?

Mika: W-What is it? Oshi-san…?

Shu: Stop acting so jittery like you’re some small animal! It’s irritating!

—My phone is going off. Usually the landlady is very considerate to not call me while guests are over… Is it something urgent, perhaps?

Mika: The phone? Ahh, well I’ll be quiet, then~. ♪

(I-If anythin’, this might’ve saved me… This’ll help break up the strange atmosphere.)

Shu: Hello? Why it’s Nii-sama, isn’t that rare. What is it you need?

Yeah, yeah, aren’t you a bother? I’m doing just fine! Hadn’t I asked you to leave me alone? Why is it that you’re—

—…What?

… … …Understood.

Yes… I’ll return home soon.

Mika: W-What is it? That call was from yer big brother, wasn’t it—How come?

Shu: It’s my Grandfather…

Mika: Hm?

Shu: …It appears early this morning, my grandfather passed away.

[ ☆ ]

story directory | next →

#raison d'être #raison d'etre #event #translation #mika kagehira #shu itsuki

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hey there! I have no idea if you’ll see this, but I figured I’d send in an ask anyways.

You know that Blue Tears story you posted awhile back? Well, it’s really freaking good and has me coming back every once and awhile to reread it! I haven’t seen a lot of Blue Tears content, if any at all and my brain needs more.

So, could I request a sort of continuation to that story if that’s alright? Another Blue X Reader story that’s kinda Angsty and Hurt/Comfort focused?

I know you said to be specific with plot ideas, so I’ll try my best here:

It’s been awhile after Blue, Red and the Reader all came down from Mt. Silver, like a month or two. Red is doing better and has healed up but Blue has isolated himself and hardly leaves his house. Red and the Reader are hanging out (maybe the Reader is checking on him) and the topic of Blue comes up. Red’s concerned about him but he’s worried (and a little bit afraid) that Blue doesn’t want to see him, so he asks the Reader to check on him. So the Reader goes over to Blue’s house (maybe meeting Daisy briefly and asking her where Blue is) before going up to Blue’s bedroom door.

The Reader knocks and Blue answers. He ain’t looking to hot or sounding that great either. Bro is a mess. That guilty conscience hit him hard. Blue let’s the Reader in and Reader expresses their concern for him, along with saying that Red was worried about him to. Blue is kinda dismissive of it at first, but when the Reader tries to say that Blue is still their friend, he gets angry and thinks that it’s pity and not concern. Blue is angry, sad, and guilty. He feels like he doesn’t deserve the Reader or Red as friends and that he’s a murderer. Blue and the Reader kinda argue (well, Blue is arguing, Reader is calm and collected and trying to get Blue to calm down/get through to him because they know he’s not okay) and right before Blue screams something that he knows he’d regret later, he’s cut off by the Reader hugging him. After a couple seconds of just processing, he breaks down and cries, hugging them back and apologizing for yelling. The Reader just holds him and comforts him, telling him that he’s still deserving of care, that they and Red are still his friends, that they’re there for him, etc. (And maybe, after Blue has calmed down, the Reader helps him get outside a bit and get some fresh air after isolating himself.)

And that’s pretty much it! Also, sorry in advance for the long ask. I didn’t mean for it to be that long. I hope that plot isn’t too long or crazy. I just wrote out what was in my head.

I have no idea if you’ll see or write this, but if you do: Thanks! If not, then still, thanks for reading it!

(PS: Blue Tears!Professor Oak can suck an egg. He’s a horrible excuse of a grandfather. Please excuse the Oak Slander I had to say it-)

Ough I'm glad you liked that one! Also I must thank you for this in-depth request <3

......

It's been roughly a month since...well...

Since it happened.

Only you, Red, and Blue knew what that it was...as the rest of Kanto only knew the fabricated version of it.

That being a vicious Pokémon had attacked you three on the summit of Mt. Silver, with no one able to identify it through the blinding blizzard that kicked up.

That's the story you told the doctors, Daisy, and every other person who was concerned for your well-being.

But that's not what happened at all.

The true perpetrator was Blue, who attacked Red in an act of pure rage and grief, as he was convinced that his rival ruined his life, stole his family's praise, and inadvertently killed one of his most treasured Pokémon.

Somehow, he believed murder was the justifiable thing to do.

The only way he'd find any sort of relief or "peace".

Yet it only brought him more sorrow when you showed up and thwarted his attempts on Red's life--owing it to his Pidgeot for leading you straight to him.

Although he attempted to kill you too for interfering...you were able to snap him out of it and lead the pair down the mountain on Pidgeot's back, keeping a close eye on Blue in case he had another freakout.

Fortunately nothing else happened.

From there, the healing process could begin. But it was hard and painful, especially when you had to lie about everything...even to the professor himself.

As angry as you were at Oak for neglecting his only other family member, you couldn't exactly tell him that his grandson resorted to murder over sheer jealousy.

But despite everything, the three of you were slowly recovering from the trauma of that cold and snowy night.

Red's injuries were still being monitored, although he was okay enough to finally be discharged from the hospital (sporting only a few scrapes and bandaids that were hardly noticeable), and he arrived home to you and his relieved mother.

While she went out to run errands, you and him chatted for a few minutes. Considering how quiet he usually was, you did most of the talking while he did the listening.

You talked about the latest Pokémon you've captured, Lavender Town's most recent ghost story, the weather..

And Blue.

Of course, it's inevitable that the Donphan in the room had to be brought up. It couldn't be ignored forever..

But you noticed Red's subtle change of expression the second you brought up his name, and your eyebrows furrowed, worried that you've upset him. "Sorry, Red..I..I didn't mean-"

"No, it's fine." He assured you. "I haven't heard from him in a while.."

"...me neither. Daisy mentioned that he's been shutting himself in a lot more. I haven't seen him in days now."

"Yeah, I'm worried, too."

You blinked. "Really?"

Red nodded. "You should check on him."

"Wha--me? Would...you be okay with that?"

"I doubt he wants to see me, but...he'll definitely wanna see you. I just know it." He looked up, his brown eyes appearing soft as he gave you a small and comforting smile. "Just tell him...he's still our friend, okay?"

For a moment, you sat there astonished. You've never heard him talk this much in all the years you and Blue have known him.

And to realize he still genuinely saw him as a friend despite what happened? You were speechless.

But once the initial shock passed, you smiled back. "I'll be sure to tell him that if he lets me in. Wish me luck."

After giving him a hug goodbye (and insisting that he kept resting like his mother requested), you began the trek over to Blue's house, hoping he was still there.

When you arrived and knocked on the front door, it was Daisy who answered, surprised to see you standing there. "Oh hey, [y/n]."

"Hey, Dais...is Blue home?"

"Yeah. He's kinda in a mood, though. He hasn't come out of his room today. Not for breakfast or....anything." Frowning, she looked over her shoulder. "I've never seen him like this before...it's scaring me."

"And that's why I'm here. I think he'd feel better if he knew I wanted to come see him." You put one hand on the doorframe in case she thought about closing it on you. "Please."

"...okay." She allowed you inside. "I have to head to work. There's a Growlithe who needed some trimming..poor thing probably can't see with all the fur over its eyes."

"You go take care of that, I'll take care of Blue..thanks." Smiling, you headed in while she headed out the door, locking it behind her.

Finally alone, you exhaled a breath you didn't even know you were holding, before making your way up to Blue's bedroom. You just hoped he was somewhat feeling okay...although judging from Daisy's remarks, he was still far from that.

You prayed he wasn't doing anything harmful to himself or anyone. But you did have a Pokeball on your belt should you need to call out one of your companions just in case.

Hopefully, it didn't need to come to that and you can just talk.

After knocking on the door, there was only a few moments of silence before it swung open, revealing a very exhausted and disheveled-looking Blue. He was in sweatpants and his usual purple sweater, although his normally spiky hair was even more of a mess.

Any sort of light that was once in his eyes had died out long ago.

To put it bluntly, he looked like hell.

"Daisy, I said I'm not.....oh...." Even his voice lost that confidence and luster it once had, instead being quiet and hoarse, having not used it for days. "[Y/n]? What's up? Why are you here?" He frowned.

"To see you, dummy." Huffing, you leaned against the doorframe. "Wanted to make sure you were still alive."

"..well, I am. So you can go. Sorry I missed your calls-"

"Can I come in?"

"......"

"....please? Just for a few minutes?"

At this point, he was too tired to fight with you right now. So he allowed you into his room, which....didn't look any better than he did. You noticed were his curtains being drawn shut, and his pokeballs and gym badges scattered across the table.

The Blue you've grown up with had his room practically lit up like the sun and his badges neatly arranged in a glass box--just in case he had someone over and wanted to impress them with his triumphs.

Now? That version of him was seemingly dead and gone.

But you didn't stare for too long, not wanting him to think you were judging him for the mess. Instead you sat together on his bed, where he remained silent, staring down at the floor.

You finally cleared your throat, deciding to talk first. "Red and I have been worried about you...he-"

"That jerkward? Worried about me?" He snorted half-heartedly, looking up to see you frowning a bit. He sighed. "Sorry, go on."

"He was discharged today. Doctors said there's nothing they need to monitor, so..that's good, at least."

"Yeah..that is good."

You noted his rather dismissive attitude as you continued expressing your concerns for his well-being, along with how he shrugged off how his Pokémon were doing, if his grandfather ever stopped by to apologize (which he did, but it came much too late for him), and more.

He was sorta just repeating whatever you said and agreeing with it, hoping you'll leave and let him go back to moping.

Honestly he thinks you got better things to do than worry about him.

However, what you said next made something in his brain tick.

"Red wanted me to tell you that...he still thinks of you as a friend. I do, too."

All of the sudden, Blue's shoulders tensed and he stared directly at you.

Not with a tired half-lidded gaze like before, but with darkened brown eyes that seemed rather...angry.

"Don't even go there, [y/n].." He warned, voice dripping with Arbok venom.

"....go where?" You blinked in bewilderment at his abrupt attitude change.

Then again, you should have seen this quick coming from a mile away. He's always had a quick temper...although you were confused over why such a simple thing as reaffirming your friendship pissed him off.

"I know what you're doing..and I'm telling you right now that I don't need it."

"I....don't follow.."

"I don't need your goddamn pity." He snarled, fingers curling into the bedsheets beneath him. "Not yours, Red's, gramp's, or anybody's....so just go on and tell me how you REALLY feel."

"That is how we really feel, Blue." You did your best to stay calm, knowing he wasn't in the best headspace right now. Getting angry at him won't solve anything. "We're not saying that to pity you or anything...we genuinely-"

"You're lying. I bet Red thinks I'm a real sack of shit. I mean..how could he NOT?!! I almost killed him."

"Blue, that's-"

"And you, too, [y/n]!! I was LAUGHING in both of your faces! Swinging a fucking knife around!! How the hell do you not think of me as a monster to stay away from?!!"

"You're not a monster-"

"YES I AM!!" He was beginning to scream, putting a greater strain on his vocal cords. But he didn't seem to care. "You should've just told them all the truth! That what I tried to do was worse than ANYTHING Team Rocket ever did!! But no...you wanted to protect my sorry ass so I didn't get my feelings hurt."

"We both know that's not true at all. Blue..why can't you understand that-?"

"NO!! Why can't YOU understand that I don't fucking deserve you two as friends?!!! You should hate me, you should be happy that I'm not showing my face to anyone in this town! Because everyone here would be better off-!!"

You refused to let him even finish that statement, knowing he was going to regret it later. So you did the only thing you could do to shut him up.

And that was hug him, not saying another word.

Obviously, you didn't wanna crush him too much considering he felt like skin and bones at this point, but it was just enough for him to snap out of his tirade.

You just held him closely, hoping that he'd finally realize how serious you were about wanting to be here for him.

It took a few seconds for Blue to fully process what was happening right now, although before you could even consider letting him go...you heard a sniffle, followed by a quiet whimper.

He tried to silence those hints of weakness by pressing his face into your shoulder, but he ultimately failed and began sobbing, completely breaking down over everything that happened over the past month.

The incident and the isolation were already weighing heavily on him....and now he yelled at you for trying to be a caring friend.

He really didn't deserve you.

Not after all he's put you through.

"I-I'm sorry...I...I shouldn't have..d-done that.." His arms wrapped around you tightly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.."

"It's alright, I know you didn't mean it." You soothed, rubbing a hand up and down his back. His cries became more gut-wrenching by the second, proving how badly he needed this right now. "You've been hurt, too...and we should have realized that from the start. From the moment Raticate passed, we should've been there for you more. And I'm sorry that we weren't."

"Y-You were there for me! You've always been there.." He choked out, squeezing you tighter. "I-I was being s-stupid...and selfish, and....and I hurt you both!"

"Red and I both forgive you, okay? Nothing's ever gonna change that."

"...r-really?"

"Yes...like it or not you're still our friend, Blue, and we'll never stop caring."

Both of you sat there for a little while longer, with you saying nothing but comforting things to Blue and keeping him close, while his sobs gradually softened as the seconds passed.

You let him cry for as long as he needed to, even if he ran himself dry. You should've done this much sooner, but now you're here and he knew you weren't abandoning him.

Eventually he calmed down enough to let you go, although his gaze went to his lap, embarrassment over his meltdown slowly creeping in.

You smiled a little, taking your hand off his back. "You feel any better?"

"...b-besides feeling like a total loser crybaby? Yeah." He kept sniffling, wiping his face clean of any remaining tears or snot before he looked back up at you. "I guess I really needed that...thanks, [y/n]."

"Of course, it's what friends do." You stood up, taking another look around the bedroom and sighing. "You know? I also think you need sunlight..it's like a damn Zubat cave in here. Let's take a walk."

Normally, he'd have some sort of snarky comeback. But he was too emotionally burnt out to make up anything, as he instead nodded silently and followed you out his bedroom.

Together you walked outside, taking in the crisp winter air.

Blue didn't realize how much he needed this until he took a few deeps breaths, gradually calming himself down even more. But when he began shivering a little, you took notice and dug your scarf out of your bag.

No way were you gonna allow him to catch a cold. Not after he's isolated himself for so long and was only now getting some fresh air.

You wrapped the scarf around him, smiling at the way he clutched it and dug his red nose into the fabric, mumbling a thanks.

All you did was nod in return, putting an arm around his shoulders as you both headed down the sidewalk together, not going anywhere in particular.

Fortunately there were very few people out on the streets, so nobody stopped to bother either of you.

Surviving whatever happened on Mt. Silver that day made you, him, and Red out to be some kind of "celebrities", especially with folks pondering what "mystery Pokémon" attacked the former champion, his rival, and you.

But none of them would ever know the real story.

They simply couldn't.

For it's a secret you three will take to your graves.

#clanask #anonymous #pokepasta x reader #blue tears #blue tears x reader #creepypasta x reader #angst #hurt/comfort #platonic

[imagine-silk]

Hi!! I love your writing and hope everything is going well in life. I recently binged through your master list and they were amazing! Happy Holidays!

How would FO4 companions react to a Sole who's always patient and kind with others finally exploding when a settler acts a little too ungrateful? Maybe after a grueling mission Sole went on and returning back exhausted/injured, making them a bit more irritable than usual.

Ah, yes. There are Marcy Longs everywhere. This took awhile but I enjoyed writing this, it was fun. Merry Chris everyone!

CAIT is not going to save you. Truthfully, she’s been wanting to deck the settler in the face for a while but you always interfered. To be honest yelling at them is not doing it for her but it is cathartic. The settler is, reasonably, caught off guard and looks around for help, no one helps them.

“Oh, I ain’t helping ya. Ya get what you throw, right?”

PRESTON tries to facilitate but this was long overdue. His allowance of the settlers to generally have a say on how things are run had both positive and negative effects on the people in charge, especially you and him as General and their second-in-command. The spat would only end when you finished what you were saying or if you allowed him to pull you away.

“Marcy, that was a bit harsh. [Sole] stop, you made your point.”

HANCOCK knows being in command is a delicate balance of loving your people and making a point. Finn was a good defender but repeatedly overstepped others so taking him out not only made a point but protected his people and those who could be his people.

“Don’t complain. They didn’t shoot ya.”

NICK normally would chastise you for chewing out someone but they had been getting on his nerves. He has always seen how willing you are to bend over backwards for everyone, so even if the settler was nice to him, he won’t stand for his partner being berated by petty grievances. But as much as he wants to scold them, he wants to get you back to the house after the day you've had.

“Hey, pal/doll, let’s go. We’ll deal with this later.”

MACCREADY just chuckles on the side. When the settler first started giving you a piece of their mind MacCready offered to shut them up as your bodyguard. You of course declined the offer but now that was fully on the table. As much as he would still do it he knows you wouldn’t want that so he keeps his hands to himself. Just letting you chew them out was enough for him.

“Nah, the boss's got it.”

DANSE before BB he would correct the civilian for questioning command or reprimand you for letting your people step on your toes. Things have changed. Typically he tries to stay out of things now but he steps forward when his friend gets home to immediately be yelled at. But your snapping gave him pause. His instincts kicked in and he removed you from the situation. You tried to fight back but a demanding injury you’d been ignoring stopped you. When you were both inside and sat down he took care of your wound, making sure you knew he was just concerned for you not blaming you.

“I can imagine how tired you are. No need to apologize to me. Or them for that matter.”

PIPER she doesn’t like misdirected slander, however today was not misdirected. Her dislike for the picky settler is very known and so this was a long time in waiting. Honestly, the sheer Schadenfreude of the whole situation is enough to have her lean on a wall and chew gum watching this. Like her favorite TV show was on. She would only say something if Nat was there.

“Hey, I don’t wanna hear you repeating any of that, okay? Okay.”

CURIE doesn’t 100% understand the malicious intent behind the settlers word so she’s surprised when you answer with aggression. She tries to calm you down while attempting to give the settler a solution to their problem. It doesn’t work. The only reason this outburst stops is because Curie starts crying. It’s a lot of stimulation and confusion for her so it’s the only thing she can do.

“Monsieur/Madame, can we just go home? I don’t like this.”

X6-88 has always followed your orders, has never harmed anyone without your word, has never stepped out of your command. He immediately kicks them to the floor when you snap at them. You just risked life and limb to keep these people safe and warm, and when you come back limping they have the audacity to call you inattentive to the community. He doesn’t take any more liberties, he already let his emotions guide them to the floor, no need to guide them to the afterlife because of them.

“Shall I take care of them permanently? No? Then maybe just dismemberment?”

DEACON always away from the spotlight, didn't intervene but saw the whole thing. He doesn’t think less of you, actually he’s surprised it took this long, anyone else would have done it sooner. When you’re done he’s waiting at home for you, and when you ask where he went and if he heard you he just laughs.

“I was, y'know, around. I’m in the walls. You can't hide secrets from me!”

#fallout 4 companions #fallout imagines #fallout 4 #cait #preston garvey #fallout hancock #nick valentine #maccready #danse #piper wright #synth curie #x6 88 #deacon fo4

[pikahlua]

Hacking Katsuki Bakugou’s Last Remaining Brain Cell: I’ve only had this chapter for like three waking hours but if anyone even looks at my son the wrong way I will use my fucking toes to drag them out by their hair

I haven’t had my caffeine yet and it’s about to show, but thAT AIN’T STOPPING ME FROM READING KATSUKI’S MIND

Okay I have a lot of feelings and predictions formulating about this chapter and I wanna give most of them more time to stew (and more time to, like, get a good night’s sleep), but y’all are underestimating my genius perfect son and I will not stand for this slander

Here’s chapter 360, I’m not even gonna copy the translations over here for each page, I’m just gonna sometimes assume you have it memorized or can read Japanese for the purposes of this post look I warned you I am sleep-deprived as fuck already and you should know what my sleep-deprived posts can be like

First of all, let me just say, I was right...

AFO was definitely trying to psych Katsuki out of his fucking mind. All his taunting this chapter was in the service of breaking Katsuki’s spirit;

I was right, this is the fucking question of the goddamn day;

and I’ve got you the answer to this question now.

Everything in this opening scene is a callback to the final exam arc I’ll have you know. I woke up realizing that “uru-” Katsuki gets out is actually him probably trying to say “shut up!” just like he did when he was under All Might’s boot.

As I was falling asleep last night, it occurred to me that this moment is just meant to be a visual representation of Katsuki experiencing a “hallucination of death” in the face of the Symbol of Fear. Nothing in this scene happens in reality.

(I shall hereby refer to this scan as Page 3.)

HOWEVER

HOW.

FUCKING.

EVER.

THIS IS THE PAGE THAT’S CAUGHT MY EYE.

{And this all-important page is now named Page 4.)

I know it looks like Katsuki is having a heart attack on the spot, that he’s being humbled and crushed like a bug as Tomura rubs his face in all his worst fears, that his facial expression is one of abject horror and humiliation.

But you’re wrong.

It turns out these two pages in conjunction are MASSIVELY IMPORTANT HOOOOOOMGGGGHHHGHHHH

THIS. THIS FUCKING THING WAS DRIVING ME NUTS FROM THE MOMENT I SAW THIS PAGE.

That’s artistic shorthand for a realization.

What the fuck did he realize? Seems fucking important since that’s the last clear picture of his face we get before the final page of the chapter!

And yeah, I see some of you have already identified that in the page before, Katsuki is exhibiting some DISTINCTLY Izuku-like behavior: mumbling battle analysis.

But did you pay attention to the content of that analysis?

Right

Fingers

Feint

Sound familiar?

...

If you said Deku vs Kacchan (any part), you’re wrong.

(Here’s the part where I show you how fucking wild my sleep-deprived brain is.)

Page 3 and Page 4. These motherfucking pages.

Page 4 has one line--said by Tomura: “No matter how far you go, you’re OFA’s (read as: Izuku Midoriya’s) goldfish excrement.”

And while now I know that’s an idiom, at the time all I could think about was

these fish fuckers.

And I looked up this panel in Japanese to see if he says anything about fish crap, but no, he says “That’s not bait/a lure” or whatever.

But the word he used, for no good reason, reminded me of...

Kamino.

And that’s when I realized.

Page 3, AFO says, “You admired All Might [in the moment] just when he wins, right? Let’s see the reality, Katsuki Bakugou.”

Katsuki already has seen the reality.

Katsuki’s spark of realization this chapter was in response to AFO’s remark about the reality of All Might’s moments of victory. That’s what gives him the realization that snaps him out of his hallucination of death.

Katsuki’s doing the same thing All Might did. He’s learning from Izuku.

That’s why he’s dropping into battle analysis mode.

Katsuki is in a debilitated state just like All Might was. He’s facing the same degradation AFO used against All Might then.

The final word of large text, “mada,” on chapter 360′s final page is the same as this one here

except this page adds “shinen no da!!!!” which means “can’t die.”

“I can’t die yet.”

And we all know death = losing.

Katsuki is focused on the reality of what victory looked like for All Might in Kamino, the same event that he harbors massive internalized guilt over. He’s working through his guilt. He’s accepting All Might won despite what Katsuki feels he made All Might turn into. He’s turning that moment into his power.

“Right...fingers...feint.”

All Might used his broken right arm as a decoy to hit All For One with his left arm. Then he switched back to his right arm and “put his back into” the finishing blow.

Katsuki’s right arm is broken right now.

It’s his turn.

#mha 360 #bnha 360 #my hero academia manga spoilers #all might #katsuki bakugou #the key was goldfish crap #and yes #he's in danger #but god will it be glorious #character analysis #meta #sleep-deprived ramblings #but i'm right

[passionesolja]

Jedi Stans is more clinically insane than sith Stan’s. I love the sith. I would boot lick every Sith Lord in existence and be their footstool but when a Jedi stan says “they’re evil I’m happy the Jedi smoke em” I’m like “shiii I mean the sith do live by the sword and die by it. Rip. They died how they live, and went out like real ones” it’s like, “yeah I know. Who even cares” why? everybody who likes the Sith knows the Sith is evil but we don’t care because it’s fictional

but when you even say “yeah I don’t fw the Jedi like they’re pious and when they beefed with Sidious they had a 1vs 10k with him and still lost. The Jedi played the game and lost. Not crying for em” they act like you attacking a real marginalized group and start making slander on your real life beliefs and political views—all because in the context of a fictional series, you prefer the villain organization over the hero.

I have never seen anybody use a real world religion as a shield for their space wizards but Jedi Stan’s do it. Like calm down. Sith Stans don’t have to use Buddhism as a shield for anything bc we literally know they’re evil and flawed but we don’t care bc it’s fake. When the sith get wiped out, and Jedi Stan’s have their fun, I don’t call them “pro genocide” bc it’s fake chill out. I’m not besties with the Sith Order idgaf if they live or die. No emotional impact on me bc they fake

But when I say “damn 10k jedi couldn’t even beat one 63 year old man that’s hilarious. Damn rip Sidious dumbass got thrown in the deathstar pit lmao” I get called an facist and pro genocide

I say all that to say that the practice of using real marginalized groups, and religions as a shield to defend the Jedi is disrespectful and needs to end. A lot of y’all are way too emotionally attached to the Jedi order so maybe take a page out of their teachings and lighten up. Y’all is attached to this Order for no reason like Yoda and nem ain’t give you a penny but y’all acting like these is real people who play a role in your life

#star wars #sw #sw prequels #sw sequels #original trilogy #sw hc #sw headcanons #sw memes #sith order #Jedi #Jedi order #sith #pro jedi #jedi critical #anti jedi #anti sith #pro sith

[youwillfindilluminating]

So that word doc is such a good idea! Do you have anymore recs for protective!Eddie pls?! I just love like. Steve taking care of everyone then Eddie taking care of Steve! Even if it’s just like understanding he’s been through some shit too 😭😭 (thank you for the other fic rec too!)

Okay so! This is what I came up with, but it's more along the lines of Steve whump/hurt x comfort rather than Eddie protecting/defending specifically, because apparently there just isn't too much of that out there that I've read!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40897005 home to you, 3.5k.

This fic is fucking god-tier hurt/comfort, in my opinion. Steve gets in a fight with his parents, has a concussion, tries to drive away but hits the mailbox, calls Dustin on the walkie, then Eddie comes to get him. I love this because it’s not overly mushy or OOC, it’s just good.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40979889  A Family is Built, not Born. 3.7k.

After Steve gets in a fight with his dad, he heads over to Eddie’s trailer. Eddie isn’t home yet, but Wayne talks with him, then Eddie comes home and it’s all h/c from there, babyyyy!

Whirlpool Of Forget-Me-Nots - Anonymous - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own] 5k

Eddie and Steve start sleeping (actually sleeping) together because of bad dreams. There's a scene where Eddie comforts Steve after a nightmare. This is just a nice read in general.

my hands are tied - lesbianrobin - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own] 1.5k

Eddie asks to tie Steve up during sex and it gives Steve a panic attack because of the Russian stuff. Immediately turns into h/c.

i'm right up the road - birthdaycandles - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own] 4.6k

A short AU fic that’s Steddie if you squint. Steve has seizures and is at Max’s place and she’s read up on what to do when they happen, but she still sees Eddie outside and calls for his help. The only way Steve and Eddie have met before is in high school or for drug deals.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41191176 Anyplace is Paradise, 2k.

Steve’s dad dies and Eddie is there for him. Established relationship. (Ignore the Elvis slander at the end. 😅)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40566510 ain’t going nowhere, 2k.

I’m going to sneak my fic in here because apparently I’m that person. This is just fluffy sickfic where Eddie takes care of Steve and they watch Top Gun.

That’s all I could come up with for now. If people have other similar recs they want to add to the post, feel free! 💖

#steddie #steddie recs #steve harrington whump #hurt x comfort

[blurglesmurfklaine]

for the ask game: i desperately need to see your spiderman davey au 🙏🙏🙏

OKAY YAY I AM ACTUALLY SO GLAD SOMEONE IS ASKING ABOUT THIS!!! I was struggling with it for a long while actually, but I basically started from scratch and asked my irl bestie for help and I like it so much better!

It involves "It's not unrequited, they're just idiots" and also "love triangle that is actually just two idiots and one of them has a secret identity" so im having a blast

“Hey boys, what’s new?” Davey lets out a sigh of relief. Then, his mouth twitches. “Jack owes me five bucks.” “She said what’s new,” Race interjects. “Kelly losing a bet ain’t news.” “Wasn’t a bet,” Davey laughs, and he can feel the tension melting off him. Right now, all he has to be is David Jacobs—high school senior and resident bookworm within his friend group. Jack throws an arm around him, so casually tactile in that way Davey only enjoys when it’s coming from him. His stomach is suddenly swooping and his face burns. He hopes no one notices. (Katherine does. As always.) “I’ll get you a new copy of The World and we’ll call it even, how about that?” High school senior, resident bookworm, and stupidly head over heels for Jack Kelly since the sixth grade. Katherine subtly raises her eyebrows at Davey, prompting him to blush even harder, if that were possible. Still, she doesn’t mention it. At least not with her words. The way she excitedly knocks her knee into Davey’s says enough. She’s always been great at having two conversations at once.  “That’s how much my dad’s charging to slander New York’s favorite superhero? You’re getting ripped off.” Davey finds himself instinctively leaning into Jack’s touch. “I like to stay informed,” he says defensively.  “You’re not being informed, you’re being brainwashed.”  “Much as I can’t stand Pulitzer, he may have a point.” While the rest of the group bursts out into protests, Davey snaps his head towards Jack, praying that he can’t feel the way his blood has just run cold beneath his touch. Back in April, Jack seemed pretty unswayed in either direction about Spider-Man. Has he spent the summer forming a stronger opinion? Katherine rolls her eyes. “Just because you work for my father doesn’t mean you have to agree with him.” “I ain’t just saying that,” Jack says seriously. “I mean, think about it. I beat on someone for ragging on Charlie and I could get sent to juvie or something. But this guy puts on a mask, does the same thing, and he’s a hero? Don’t make no sense.” “Feel like it’s a little more complex than that,” Charlie replies.  “Yeah,” Race agrees. “The guy’s got super-strength and shoots webs out of his ass or whatever.” “Wrists,” Davey corrects him, under his breath. “You have to admit, he’s got a real knack for this hero thing,” says Kath.  “He’s got a knack for slipping away from the cops. Everyone else who does that ends up in prison. Back me up here, Davey.” Davey, who has been remaining strategically silent, feels his stomach knot up as his friends turn their gazes to him. “Oh, I’d love to hear this,” Katherine says. “What do you think of our friendly neighborhood Spidey, Day?”

Davey swallows.  How the hell is he supposed to respond to that? What does Davey think of Spider-Man? He’s faced with that question every time he looks in the mirror.

#ask #asks #anon #javid #javey #newsies

[alharringtonfan]

hey it’s that anon again! Oh I definitely agree, even thought I myself ain’t a huge Urban fan or anti or whatever ppl call it like say whatever the fuck you want about him but like He was kinda right, he knows not to get “buddy buddy” with certain or just online horror creators in general or act like the second coming of Jesus.

Maybe urban is the embodiment of karma /j

Hey, anon! I'm happy to see you again <3

Hahah definitely. Urban's a very authentic guy. He may not be the person people want him to be, but that just makes him more genuine in my book. Urban knows who he is. Martin, Chezz and Pastra don't know who they are. Not even Alex does. They just know what to say to keep their audience around. It's not healthy to be this worried about voicing your true opinions out loud, it's just cowardice. Sure, the masses may not like it and they WILL confront you about it; but what's better, to have a big audience that will eat you alive when the clock strikes midnight (and one that you didn't even want to in the first place); or a small but loyal audience made up of thoughtful watchers? Urban took the risk, got bit, and came around with the people he didn't want to appease hating on him (and consequently not being part of his community), and with his intended target audience gladly following along on his endeavors. Urban has fans and friends that are like him and who will think twice before believing any statement made against him; Alex's audience is nothing like that. He tried to pander to so many people at once that his fandom was always like a pressurized pot just waiting to explode. It'd happen eventually. The people he chose, or didn't, are fake and gullible. They thirst for drama. They aren't genuine or 1/10th of the person they try to make themselves out to be. Again, good people don't have to pretend to be good. All these people have are words, but no actions. Urban didn't choose his words and to them he was done because that's all they care about. Words.

And that's how the utmost importance of trimming down your audience comes into place. To some people it may seem extreme for him to have called Pastra an autistic furry and a pussy, but that's because people are against what's different and thrive on puppeteering others. It makes me sick just how common that's become nowadays. They want everyone to be just like themselves. Besides, Urban didn't even say anything bad. He called the guy autistic, a furry, and a pussy (which he is, at least these last two). Big effing deal. First world problems at their finest.

People only see his exterior. Edgy, mean, grrr how dare he say these words I don't like!!! — but they fail to understand that by wanting to control people into being something they deem is good, they are inherently cooperating on this endless cycle of harassment and cancel culture. It's trying to put others into a box, shaping HOW they want him to be like, WHAT he should say and HOW he should act. This is not diversity, it's the opposite of being diverse. THEY are the authorities they claim to be so much against.

Urban had all the reasons in the world to be upset at Pastra and everyone else. ALL of their arguments were in bad faith. They went into The Painter EXPECTING it to be bad. People like Chezz leap into drama already choosing sides (always the most popular one) while ravenous for the opposition's blood. Not even bothering to hear the other side of the story or the context around it. It always comes down to ego or the belief that many people backing up a claim must mean that it's true/false. Kaizo himself fell for it, arguing "BUT THERE'S SO MANY DOCUMEEEEEEENTSSS!!!!" and being too much of a fat slob to read such artifacts of slander; because all they see are numbers. Bigger numbers good = many subscribers good. Many subscribers.... have to say good take!!!!! Many likes in post = true = good.

The cancelers always get canceled because they surround themselves with people who want to control others just like them. Urban was smart enough not to do that. He knows who he is, and saved himself from the burden of being part of this "friend" group of illiterate slop content creators. I'm positive Alex has learned this since he spoke about meeting people in real life and giving up on making internet friends. That's great and I hope he goes forward with this, as his fans are more unstable than Moscovium and break down at the smallest gust of air being blown their way. I can see Urban hooking up with one of his fans — Martin, not in a trillion years.

And I'm not even a fan of the series! Urban is talented, but I just think that the writing of it is lacking. It DID make me scared, which is more than I can say about TMC itself.

In short, Urbanspook is this image in flesh and blood. I think you can already guess what category Martin Walls and Chezzkids belong to.

(not trying to change your mind about urban. just stating my own thoughts on him :^))

#anon im so sorry for the long ass posts to your asks hahah #it's just that inspiration suddenly comes by and i feel the need to write it down #ask #ranting and raving