#holy boy that sounded depressing
Note
hockey player ethan/jack?? what do we think
HOT!!! that’s what we think. anyways happy august season to the august girlies<3 this was very painful yet fun to write btw
august — ethan landry
word count: 3,180
pairing: hockey player!ethan landry x fem!reader
based on: august by taylor swift
summary: y/n and ethan had never seen each other with romantic eyes, until she pulls up her car. after that, their summer love adventure starts.
warnings: angst, fluff, cheating and that’s it i guess
part one part two
Y/N WAS CERTAINLY NOT PROUD OF WHAT SHE DID, BUT SHE COULDN’T LIE TO HERSELF, SHE DID NOT REGRET IT. Did that make her a bad person? Probably, and maybe that’s why karma got her, because sneaking around with someone’s boyfriend—even if it that someone was Betty, whom Y/N absolutely despised—had been a dick move, and she knew it all too well. But then again, Ethan’s puppy brown eyes had been like a trap. A trap she had fallen for unexpectedly and deeply.
Ethan Landry was the captain of the Blackmore Hockey Team—which Y/N’s brother, Drew, was a part of—, and Blackmore University’s golden boy. He was beyond untouchable, and taken by the captain of the cheerleader squad: Betty Harkness. They were the perfect couple on papers, but everyone knew they didn’t get along very well, and that they broke up and made up back and forth.
Everyone wanted Ethan—he was gorgeous, confident, hilarious, kind, athletic and pretty much every positive adjective you could find. But Y/N always saw him as Drew’s friend and Ethan always saw her as Drew’s little sister (although she was only a few months younger than them). Until one action completely changed the course of their lives.
“Eth? Are you on your way to hockey practice?” Y/N pulled up her car when he saw the tall boy walking on the sidewalk, hockey stick over his broad shoulder.
“Y/N! Yes. My car broke down, and now I have to walk” Ethan said, scrunching his nose.
“Get in the car, dumbass. I’ll drive you” she said, opening the shotgun door.
“Are you sure? Aren’t you heading somewhere else?”
“No, actually I was going to see the practice too. My best friend left to visit some relatives, so I have no plans. Drew invited me to the practice when he saw me mopping around the house”
Ethan laughed, and got into the car “You’re a life saver. But hey, does that mean you have to spend your whole summer all alone? That’s awful”
Y/N shook her head “Only a week and a half. Now I kinda wish I had more friends, although staying at home watching rom-coms doesn’t sound that bad”
“God, you depress me” Ethan groaned.
“Sorry Mr. So Popular I Get Invited To Every Party” she teased him.
“You could get invited to parties too, if you didn’t have that bitchy face whenever someone approaches you with an invitation” Ethan said, trying to contain a smile.
“I do that?” she asked, genuinely surprised.
Ethan raised his eyebrows “You don’t do that on purpose?”
“No! I mean, I would take the invitation even though parties aren’t my thing and will probably not go”
“Why? Because you’re not like other girls?” he joked.
Y/N scoffed “No, you dick. I get anxious around big crowds, especially intoxicated crowds” she explained.
“Oh… now I do feel like a dick”
The girl sent him a reassuring smile “It’s okay”
“You know, this is the first time we talk without Drew around” Ethan said.
“You’re right. What’s your veredict? Am I better company than my brother?” she asked, playful smile on her lips.
“Oh, most definitely” he said mirroring her smile “Jokes aside, you’re actually fun to be around”
“You doubted that?? What a wrong thing to assume from someone who was the authority to kick you out of her car” Y/N tried to keep a serious expression, but Ethan’s laugh ruined it.
“True, true. I’m sorry I ever doubted you, Y/N/N. Please don’t leave me stranded” Ethan said, putting his palms together and looking at her with his deep brown eyes.
Had he always had those cute puppy eyes? And holy shit was he handsome, and charming. How did that go past her all this time?
Y/N did an exaggerated sigh “Fine, I guess I am feeling a little kind-hearted today, so I’ll give you a pass”
“Oh, thank you, benevolent Y/N” he said, and then both bursted out laughing.
Ethan sneaked out glances at her throughout the rest of the ride, wondering how he had never noticed how funny and gorgeous she was. And had she always had that shiny smile?
what are you wearing? 😏
um my grandma’s camisole
who is this?
you’re supposed to say i’m just in my underwear or something sexy jesus y/n🙄
you’re absolutely disgusting, stranger
who are you??
a very handsome and espectacular hockey player (the best on the team, if you want my opinion)
omg julian hi!! i was going to ask for your number but i never had the courage tbh
WHAT THE FUCK YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON JULIAN YOUR BROTHER IS GOING TO KILL YOU
AND HES NOT THE BEST ON THE TEAM 😡
lmaoo
you’re fricking adorable ethan
oh you knew it was me
what gave it away? the handsome part or the espectacular hockey player??
your ego🫤
ah yes makes sense🤔
so… no crush on julian?
nope :)
why are you texting me tho?
i’m bored and you told me you had no plans
so, meet me behind the mall?
we can go see a movie or something
if you want to, ofc
oooh i heard they are playing twilight 🥺🥺
not gonna happen
pretty please????? don’t be judgemental
it’s a classic
we have very different opinions on the term “classic”
come on don’t be like that😫😫 i really want to go
plus we can watch a movie you want another day???
okay fineeee
see you in an hour?!
see ya👹
what the fuck is that emoji
it’s the closest thing to a vampire 😭
🧛🏻🧛🏻♂️ there you go, the emojis actually exist
OMG YOU JUST CHANGED MY LIFE
you’re the dorkiest dork i’ve ever met
a cute one tho ;)
thank you but get your ass moving
robert pattinson is waiting for me!!!
ETHAN WOULD ABSOLUTELY HATE THE MOVIE IF THE SIGHT OF Y/N’S EXCITED FACE WASN’T SO GODDAMN HEART WARMING. Ethan didn’t know what was going on with him, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her ever since the drive—which was a week ago. He yearned for her sarcastic remarks and funny comebacks. He found himself going to Drew’s house more often just to catch a small glimpse of the gorgeous girl, who would smile brightly at him when she caught him staring.
Yes, they were definitely flirting. And he felt like he was fifteen again having his first crush. But the attraction was obviously mutual, so he didn’t hesitate to make a move.
“How many times have you watched this movie again?” Ethan whispered in her ear, and she felt goosebumps all over her body. How could a voice be that sexy?
“Like… ten times? I don’t know. Why? Am I reciting the lines too much?” she asked embarrassed.
Ethan bit his lip softly, his heart not taking her cuteness “No, just wondering if you could miss five minutes of it”.
“Why?”
“Because I want to kiss you”
“But I wanna keep on watching Robert” she teased as she got closer to the tall boy.
“You’re seriously talking about another guy while I am one second away from kissing the fuck out of you?”
Y/N shrugged “Deal with it”
“As you wish”
The arm rest was stabbing her ribcage but Y/N didn’t care about anything else other than that intoxicating kiss. She didn’t feel anything but the heat of his touch on her waist, on her jaw, on her neck—everywhere. And Ethan didn’t care about anything else but her soft lips, the feel of her fingers on his hair, the little whimpers she was making as his tongue explored her mouth.
“Now that I think about it, I can miss the rest of the movie” she spoke against his lips.
Ethan smirked “My house?” Y/N nodded eagerly.
THE SILKY SHEETS FELT SOFT AGAINST HER NAKED SKIN AND THE WARMTH OF ETHAN’S BODY MADE HER WANT TO NEVER GET UP. But it was practice day, so Ethan’s alarm went off, and they both groaned. The night had been amazing, after whispers of ‘are you sure?’ and ‘never have i ever before’, they ended up twisted in his bedsheets and the memory of the passionate rounds were the first thing that came to their minds as they woke up.
“We need to get up, Eth. You have practice” Y/N said as the sleepy boy pulled her towards him.
“But you look so pretty beneath the sun and in my sheets” he whispered, kissing her collarbone.
Y/N blushed “Come on, we have to go”
“We? Are you coming to the practice?” Ethan said excitedly.
Y/N nodded “If that’s okay”
“Yes! Prepare to be left enchanted by my hockey skills”
“I’ve seen you play hundreds of times, Eth” she laughed. “I know you’re fantastic”
“I will dedicate every score to you” he kissed her softly.
“Wow, I’m so excited and honoured” Y/N said in a high-pitched voiced.
“You’re so mean” Ethan laughed. “By the way… are you feeling okay? Aren’t first times painful?”
“Well, my legs feel a little bit weird, but I’m okay. Thank you” Y/N smiled sweetly, and he pressed his lips to her temple.
Was it too soon to say she had, maybe, fallen for him? Could he possibly feel the same? Y/N could only hope it wasn’t just a summer thing for him, because she certainly knew it wouldn’t be for her.
AUGUST HAD SIPPED AWAY LIKE A BOTTLE OF WINE AND SOON CLASSES STARTED AGAIN. And the feeling of anxiety filled Y/N’s chest. What would happen now? Would Ethan break up with Betty or was he going to let the memories of august slip away into just a moment in time? They had never talked about it, they just enjoyed their moments together.
“Well, well, she’s alive! Who would’ve thought?” the voice of Willow, her best friend, filled her ears.
“Hi, my gorgeous beautiful pretty friend” Y/N said with a guilty smile as she approached her.
“No, no. There’s not enough adjectives in the world to remediate the fact that you cancelled our plans all summer” Willow crossed her arms in front of her chest.
“I’m sorry… I need to confess something”
Willow raised her eyebrows “I’m hearing”
“Promise not to freak out? It’s important that you stay calm, we’re in the hallway”
“I promise”
“I’ve been seeing someone during the summer” she whispered.
Willow’s eyes almost popped out of her face “Holy shit! Who?”
“Remember your promise, okay?” Y/N reminded her, and she nodded impatiently. “Ethan”.
Willow didn’t scream, or gasp, or choked in surprise. She laughed. “Oh my god, imagine!” wow, was it that unbelievable? Y/N stared at her with a serious expression and soon Willow realized it wasn’t a joke. “Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N/N? Are we talking about Ethan Landry? Captain of the team? Your brother’s friend? Mr. Popular? Betty Harnkness’ boyfriend?”
“Yes, Willow. Congratulations, you know him!”
“Don’t use that tone with me right now! Y/N he has a girlfriend”
Y/N sighed “I know, okay? And I feel a little bad. But it’s too late, okay? It’s done”
“A little bad?” Willow repeated, trying not to laugh.
“Well, it is Betty we are talking about. And are they really into each other or is just for social status?”
“Yeah… what is going to happen? Are him and Betty over? Are you two dating?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know and no” she answered. “We haven’t talked about it”
“I bet you didn’t talk at all” Willow smirked.
“Actually… we did. I mean, we did have fun doing… physical stuff but we also talked a lot” Y/N said with a smile “He’s so amazing, Willow. He’s so easy to talk to, he’s funny, sweet, laughs at my jokes, takes care of me, compliments me every chance he has, he’s an amazing kisser… he dedicated me every single score he did when he played. It was so sweet”
“Holy shit, Y/N you really fell for him”
“I know” you could almost see the sparks radiating off her.
“Well, lover girl. Let’s go to class, and then you’ll tell me all the details”
And as they walked through the hallway they caught sight of Ethan’s group. Against the lockers were Drew, Julian, Chad, Tara, Mindy, Anika, Betty and Ethan, whose arms was draped around Betty’s waist.
Y/N felt her surroundings get frozen, a knot appeared on her throat and she was pretty sure she was about to cry. Just like that, every hope and excitement left inside her turned into ashes. She wanted to keep walking, but her feet were glued to the floor.
“Fuck, Y/N/N” Willow whispered, as she saw what had left her best friend in such state “Let’s keep walking” she grabbed her friend’s hand and started to guide her towards the classroom.
But to do that, they had to walk past the group. The two friends set their eyes on their goal—the classroom—praying they wouldn’t notice them.
“Y/N/N!” shit no, no no. Willow squeezed her friend‘s hand tightly as they heard Drew calling her. She had no choice.
“It’s okay, I’m here” Willow whispered as they dragged their feet towards them.
“Hi” they said, Willow’s tone was dry while Y/N’s was just low and unstable.
“Hey, just wanted to give you these” Drew said, handing her two tickets. “For the hockey match this weekend. You are going, right?”
“I don’t know. Willow and I have plans” Y/N said, only looking at Drew.
“But it’s our last match. And we’re pretty confident we’re winning, with our star player right here” Drew said, patting Ethan’s arm. The boy laughed, and Y/N felt her heart clench at the beautiful sound.
“Yeah, Y/N/N come on. You enjoy hockey” his voice addressing her did nothing but make her want to cry in the spot. Was he mocking her? Y/N didn’t look at him, and Willow threw him a dirty glance.
“Y/N’s thing is to stay home with her lame romantic comedies” Betty’s annoying voice said.
“Shut up, Betty” Tara said harshly.
“Please? I really want you there” Drew told her.
How could she say no? She loved her brother “Okay, okay. We will be there” she faked a smiled so he won’t see how miserable she was feeling.
But he was her brother, and knew her like the back of his hand “Hey, what’s wrong?” he grabbed his sister by the cheeks, eyes reflecting how worried he was.
“Nothing” god she felt so pathetic. It was now obvious she was about to cry. And she was doing it in front of her brother’s friends, the boy who broke her heart and his girlfriend “I need to go to class, see you later”.
By the end of the day, Y/N felt absolutely defeated. Her energy was drained, the knot on her throat didn’t want to go away and her mind was making fun of her by replaying the memories of her summer love thing with Ethan. But as if God took pity on her, the last class of the day got suspended so she got to go home early.
But apparently it was the Let’s Make Y/N Feel Like Shit day, because Ethan had been waiting for her in the hood of her car, with his perfect mullet hair and his hockey jersey that looked absolutely amazing on him. She had no escape.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she spoke. Now she felt furious, how dare he show his face after that morning?
“I needed to talk to you” Ethan said in a soft voice.
“I have things to do. So, I’m really sorry, but not right now”
“By ‘things’ do you mean go home, make cookies and watch 10 things I hate about you?” he asked with a knowing smile.
“Don’t act as if you knew me” she spitted in anger.
The smile fell from his face “I do know you, Y/N/N”
“Well then, you might’ve realized that I don’t want to talk to you at all” she said, trying not to let the tears fall. Why was he there? Wasn’t the pain he put on her that morning enough?
“Please… I- I need to explain what happened. It’s not what it looked like” Ethan said.
“So, you’re telling me that you actually broke up with Betty?” she asked, already knowing what the answer would be. Ethan sighed and shook his head no. “Then it was exactly what it looked like. And you even had the audacity to mock me!”
“What?! I didn’t mock you” Ethan said truthfully.
“Y/N/N come on. You enjoy hockey” she imitated his voice. “You were mocking me. You know I don’t care about hockey, I just cared about seeing you and my brother”
“I- god yes, it sounded bad. But I swear I didn’t mean it like that. It was my way of telling you everything was okay”
“What the fuck?!” she laughed dryly “Nothing is okay, Ethan! You are still with her. And I know we didn’t state you were breaking up with her to be with me, but I just thought… I thought you would do it. That we had something going on. I thought it was more than a summer thing”.
“It was more than that, I promise. It was so much more than a summer thing. I’ve never felt something so strong towards someone”
“Then why are you still with her?”
“I… don’t know. I just-she saw me and everyone was watching us… I couldn’t break up with her. I’m sorry. With the match coming up, I didn’t want to add any unnecessary drama… I just thought it wasn’t the right time to break up”
“Unnecessary drama? The match? Are you fucking serious? It didn’t cross your mind how would I feel when I saw you with your arms around her? Well, in case you were wondering it was fucking devastating. I was just telling Willow what an amazing guy you are… how in love I am with you. And then I saw you two… it sucked, Ethan. So I’m sorry if your apologies aren’t enough. Now I need to go”
“How in love I am with you” were the words that resonated on Ethan’s head as he watched Y/N drive away. She was in love with him, and he was very much in love with her too, but he wrecked everything.
“Hey, man. What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Drew found him in the empty hallway.
“I screwed it up, Drew. I hurt her”
“What’s are you talking about?” but Ethan did nothing but sob with his head in his hands. “It’s okay, man. Just breathe, just relax, it’ll be okay”
But Ethan didn’t know if it was going to be okay. He cursed for having been so careless with the relationship, for having though that wanting would be enough. It wasn’t. He should’ve been clear with Betty. His top priority should’ve been Y/N, not Betty nor the hockey match. He ruined it, but he was going to do everything in his power to make it up to her. He was determined to win back the girl he loved.
#jack champion#ethan landry#jack champion x y/n#jackchampion#ethanlandry#ethan landry x oc#ethan landry drabble#ethan landry fic#ethan landry oneshot#ethan landry fluff#ethan landry x y/n#ethan landry x you#ethan landry x reader#jack champion x reader#jack champion fluff#jack champion oneshot#jack champion imagine
980 notes
·
View notes
Text
Propaganda
Joan Blondell (Footlight Parade, The Public Enemy)—My Pre-code QUEEEEEN. Joan is a large part of why I love 30s movies. She's got such a flair and presence. She's not known for her voice, but her rendition of Remember My Forgotten Man will grab you by the heart. She played a variety of roles, and held her own with major stars like Bette Davis and Hot Vintage Poll icon James Cagney. She was a hardworker, even as Hollywood stopped giving her prime roles, and continued working in film and television up until her death. She's an absolute firecracker, even in her supporting roles I end up focused on her. Also, I just think it's cute that her name (real!) is Blondell.
Hu Die (Sing-Song Girl Red Peony, The Burning of the Red Lotus Temple)—i haven't seen any of her movies but apparently she was China's first "movie queen" in 1933? she was also in the the first Chinese sound movie!
This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.
[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]
Joan Blondell:
A pre-code sweetie. Hot, funny and practical.
Criterion retrospective:
Sharp-tongued, sharp-witted, and beautiful - what more could you ask for from a dame of the gangster film/screwball comedy era? (Also, James Cagney would want you to vote for her!)
with her sunny smile and characters tending to exhibit a blend of happy-go-lucky cheerfulness and scrappy toughness, joan blondell is one of the quintessential stars of the pre-code era. she and fellow fast-talking wisecracker james cagney were close friends, having met when they were in a broadway play together in 1929, and made seven movies together that ran the gamut from gangster pictures to comedies to musicals.
She's absolutely hilarious and I love her
She's the wisecracking blonde who has been around the block and knows the score, but just look at those big blue eyes gazing at Jimmy Cagney as she burns the midnight oil to help him achieve his dreams and picks him up when he gets buffeted by life
Smart, snarky, and so sexy!
My Forgotten Man is one of the most haunting depictions of the consequences of WWI that I’ve ever seen, knocked out of the park by Joan Blondell’s performance. In one song number it traces sending the boys off to war, bringing them back to die in the streets maimed, drunk, and full of PTSD, then leaving them to starve in the Depression, framed by the suffering of the women who loved them. Holy shit? This is a musical number? They fucking produced this barnburner in a mainstream musical?
My Forgotten Man, in two parts:
youtube
youtube
Hu Die:
230 notes
·
View notes
Text
SxF Chapter 95 Thoughts
The drought is over.
And HOLY MOLY
AAAAAA I know we're nearing the end-semester gala but I never thought we'd get it on THIS chapter AAAADHJDJSKDN
When I saw the chapter is 21-pages long, I made sure to savor it well sskskjs
"Guardians will not be attending the gala." DAMMIT. Oh wait, Twillight can just disguise himself as a volunteer. I forgot.
Lol this is really not good for Damian's poor little heart.
WOHOO Becky cute!!
Huh, looks like Henry and Martha had a history together. Maybe they used to be classmates in Eden? Or something else, maybe.
The party is different than I expected. I thought ALL students will mingle in one place. I thought we'd meet Demetrius here. Oh well.
Damn this is depressing. Reassignation class based on academic performances. It's really happening. Anya will be separated from Becky. Hopefully their classroom will not be that far off 🥲
Damn Damian. Looking fine there, like a true young chaebol.
ANYA IS CUTE!! She's a princess!! 😭💕 I was surprised with her hair, I thought she'd keep the haircones. It's almost like as long as the little bundle of her hair is protected, any hairstyle is fine. Her dress though... It's darker than I expected; I thought she'd go with light color. But this is fine too. She's cute either way. (lowkey reminds me of a little witch, lol). It's also cute how she and Damian looks matching with black-and-white outfits, hehe. (Then again, this is b&w manga. Will their outfits have different color in the colored illlustration?)
Nicee Ewen, you do know when to give credits when it's due.
Nah Damian you're just making up shit now. You have excellent eyes, you know her dress is not cheap.
Of course Damian would fo anything for any imperial-scholar related. Cute.
Now this is interesting.
Some people say it's a reference to Harry Potter, so I wonder if some of it will turn out to be true. Especially the last two: "the cursed underground maze in section 4" and "the sealed chamber in the tower of wisdom." Sounds like hella suspicious places for a school filled with top political figures in the country. What if those are the places Donovan entered often? Hmmm. *sus glance* Wonder if DamiAnya gang will tackle the 7 mysteries like in Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun and see something they shouldn't see like in Promised Neverland, lol.
Anya, you got this! It's the name you learned in the school's interview! She already forgot, lol. But at least she got the "Ben" right!
Wonder if any of these kids will become Anya's new classmate, lol. Endo really used his break time brainstorming new characters here.
OMG IM DED. Narcis Hubrisse. Brayzen. These fucking fitting names I swear 🤣🤣🤣
Yesss you go Becky. Set your standard high. Don't mingle yourself with these lowly boys.
YAAASS. A GENTLEMAN ASKING ANYA OUT. YOU GO BOY. Even if it's a facade at least it's better than these Hubrisse and Brayzen boys.
OH.MY.GOD. FFFUUUUCKKK AJDNSKDBKDJDJSKHDUDJXNJDKDHDJJSJKSJSJSYEEEESSSSSS
HE'S HEREE HE'S FUCKING HERE. His hairstyle is ugly but HE'S HERE. I was wondering if we're gonna meet him soon. I was righttt, he iss gonna be a recurring character. I mean look at the name reveal from chapter 93. Look at that damn edgy hair. Hopefully he will be Anya's new classmate. But I never thought he'd put an interest in her as a runner-up in the classical language test. What is his background? How is he so good with the classical languange to even reach 90-ish points even though it's rarely taught? Does he have a connection with Anya with his gift in classical language and weird hairstyle? Why does he have such unsettling bow tie? I need to knooww
And he even pull off such a strong reaction from Damian too, skskjsksk. 2nd ML candidate? Lmao
Good to know Arnold's family is B tier. Not bad.
Twillightt you got soft. Letting Anya and Damian do whatever they want? What happen to the mission?
Lowkey sad to see Anya trying hard because Twillight didn't trust she would do a good job in plan B.
Oh mah gahh these preciouss kiddss 😭True homiess 😭😭💕💕
At least this will ensure Anya to get her place fair and square.
I wonder if Twillight realize Anya is approaching Damian for the sake of world peace she mentioned. Or he's simply motivated with Anya's motivation.
But at this rate, the dance will be over the moment Damian got his partner, lmaoo
Great comeback chapter! 🔥🔥🔥
*Edit: Screw what I said that Arnold might be the 2nd ML. I don't trust his hairstyle, his droopy eyes, his bow tie, and his polite manners. So far we've seen only adorable children but he could be evil for all we know. Better be cautious than sorry.*
#spy x family#spy x family manga#spy x family manga spoilers#spy x family 95#sxf#sxf manga#sxf manga spoilers#sxf spoilers#sxf 95
113 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hiiii, could you do something for Rory? something like being Benny's one year older sister badass and super powerful and crush from Rory? (she is a witch) who controls her powers very well? She's friends with the girls, she's super popular and went out with one of Jess's friends before helping the guys a kick their ass out of town, so Rory thinks he doesn't have a chance with her and gets depressed about it, at the same time she thinks he has Rory likes Jessica so she doesn't try to make any move on him, and people are simply tired of seeing the two of them pining for each other around so they find a way to bring them together, kind of pretending to kidnap Rory and she would show up to save him? but they end up getting in the way and does she really have to show up to save the day? and Rory ends up confessing to her while groggy and after he gets better they talk and stay together being a super cute couple???
Rory Crushing On And Being Saved By Benny's Older Sister Headcanons
Masterlist
Request Something!
A/N: this is basically word vomit that i did in one sitting so be prepared bc it lowkey sucks lol reader and the girls are all a year older than the boys (yall know this by now but i ignore canon when it comes to the boys being 14/15 and the girls being 17/18), a bear lives in the forest by Whitechapel bc i said so
***
Being a popular older sister, you usually tried to ignore your little brother
Even though he was only a year younger than you, him being your little brother meant he was beyond embarrassing
And so were his friends Ethan and Rory
As the cool older sister, it wasn’t surprising that Rory had a crush on you when all of you were younger
“Your sister’s so cool,” Rory said absentmindedly, staring at you in the kitchen while he and his friends were playing video games. You were on a call with some of your girlfriends, giggling occasionally as you caught up on the latest junior high gossip. “And pretty.”
“Ew.” Benny grimaced, giving Rory a disgusted glance. “She’s not pretty, she’s Y/n.”
Years later, Rory’s crush never really went away
In high school, you actually got closer to your brother and his friends
Mainly because a bunch of people in the popular crowd you were in turned out to be part of a vampire cult
Including Sarah’s boyfriend and yours at the time
Even after taking all of them out and bonding (mainly trauma bonding) over that experience, Rory still feels like he doesn’t have a chance with you
Although you’re in the same friend group, Rory feels like you’re from different planets
“Stop staring at my sister, Rory,” Benny grumbled during lunch, watching his friend watch you talk to Sarah and Erica as the three of you grabbed lunch trays. “It’s disgusting.”
“I’m surprised you aren’t used to it by now, B.” Ethan teased. “He’s been like this for years.”
“Yeah, you’d think he’d stop by now,” Benny said to his best friend before turning to the blonde who paid him no mind. “You know you can talk to her, right Rory? You guys are friends; it’s not like she treats you like a geeky parasite anymore.”
“She’s still too cool for me, Benny,” Rory mumbled, head resting in the palm of his hand as he stared dreamily at you. Though you never noticed. Because you were too cool for him. “I mean, she’s even cooler now. Not only is she hot, but she’s crazy good at magic.”
“I’m good with magic, and you never act like this with me,” Benny responded, sounding a slight bit jealous.
“She’s better.”
“Hey!”
Little did Rory know, you had a bit of a crush on him yourself
It started when he helped you kill your boyfriend
For context, your boyfriend was an evil cultist vampire that wanted to turn you
You weren’t exactly a fan of that
Seeing Rory zip around with holy water in a water gun somehow made you see him in a whole new light
He was no longer your dorky brother’s dorky friend
He was the guy who saved you from a fate that, to you, seemed worse than death
As soon as Erica and Sarah found out about this, they teased you relentlessly
“Y/n, he’s totally staring at you,” Erica said as she put some salad on her plate. “Like, it’s a little weird.”
“No, he’s not.” You responded, but you didn’t bother to look.
“I don’t know why you won’t just tell Rory that you like him,” Sarah said, tired of this entire ordeal. “He’s clearly into you. I mean, how could he not be?”
“I can’t tell him because he’s Benny’s friend. If something went wrong, everything would get weird.”
“I dunno.” Sarah shrugged, cutting in front of you to get some fruit. “I still think you should tell him.”
“I’ll tell him when you tell Ethan.” You watched Sarah freeze at the mention of the brunette, making you and Erica laugh.
Eventually, all of your friends got sick of the two of you pining after each other
They all got together to come up with a plan
Benny was a bit reluctant, you being his sister and Rory being his friend and all
But after talking with the gang about it, he realized he’d rather have to see the two of you together instead of you staring at each other while thinking that the other couldn’t possibly feel the same way
The idea they came up with was a little absurd
But it wouldn’t be the gang’s idea if it wasn’t a little absurd
One Saturday night, the boys were at Ethan’s house, and you were waiting for the girls to come to your place
“So what are we playing, guys?” Rory asked the boys as he looked through Ethan’s fridge. “I was kinda thinking World of Warcraft, but I’m open to anything, really.”
The blonde boy sensed a presence behind him and turned around, seeing Ethan lean against the kitchen island.
“We were actually thinking more of a physical game.” He said, trying to seem casual. “Like hide and seek?”
“I’m down!” Rory grinned. “I can seek. No! I wanna hide! Well…” As Rory debated what kind of player he wanted to be, he soon realized someone was missing from the room. “Hey, where’s Benny?”
Suddenly, the world went dark for Rory. Faintly, he could hear the boy he’d been looking for from behind him.
“Actually, we were thinking of hiding you somewhere for someone else to find you.”
***
You were starting to wonder where Sarah and Erica were. Being vampires with superspeed, you’d think they’d be on time. You texted them every few minutes, waiting for an update or ETA, but you never got one.
Soon, you were ready to go to your room and sulk about your friends canceling on you without saying anything. But as you were about to walk up the stairs, you heard frantic knocking on the front door. Slightly alarmed, you raced over and opened the door to see your friends.
“Wow, you guys finally show up.” You say with a bitter tone before noticing their distraught looks. “Wait, what happened?”
“Rory got kidnapped!” Sarah blurted out.
“What?!” You all but yelled, eyes wide in shock.
“Come on, there’s no time!” Erica urged you out of the house with a wave of her arm. “We gotta go find him; the boys are waiting for us.”
Everything was going according to plan
You and the girls met Ethan and Benny at the edge of a forest on the borders of Whitechapel
Forgetting to come up with a backstory, the boys gave you very minimal details
All they knew was that one second, Rory was with them, and he wasn’t the next
They knew where Rory was; they had left him in a little cove somewhere blindfolded and tied up
But they weren’t gonna tell you that
“Benny, have you tried using a tracking spell?” You asked as the five of you walked into the forest.
“It didn’t work.” He said with a shrug, which seemed a bit too casual for the situation. But you didn’t feel like bringing that up. You were too focused on finding Rory.
“Are you sure you did it right?” You asked pointedly, and your brother shrugged. You sighed, pausing your movements as you racked your brain for a tracking spell. A tracking spell usually worked best with something that belonged to who you were looking for, but off the top of your head, none of you had anything.
The next best thing, you decided, was a crisp leaf on the ground. Holding it in front of you by the stem, you shut your eyes and envisioned the spell, muttering the incantation over and over until the leaf flew out of your hand. Your eyes shot open, and everyone watched as a nonexistent wind carried it away.
“And you wonder why I’m Grandma’s favorite.” You mumble jokingly to your brother before running after the leaf, everyone else close behind.
What your friends didn’t know was that Rory had somehow wandered out of the little cove that he was left in
Rory wasn’t one to sit in one spot for too long, and even a blindfold and tied wrists wouldn’t stop him from finding something to do
A bit hungry, Rory used his heightened senses to try to find a little snack
Preferably a squirrel or something
He didn’t really know how he’d catch it in his condition, but he’d cross that bridge when he got to it
Little did he know, Rory was sniffing out a bear
And the bear was about to find him first
“Where could he be?” You asked no one in particular as you sped after the fluttering leaf. “Who would take him this far out?”
“No clue,” Benny answered before turning to Ethan to whisper in his ear. “We’re so far from the cove; where is he?”
Ethan shrugged, feeling just as confused as Benny. He didn’t doubt your abilities when it came to magic, but you were supposed to turn left and find the cove five minutes ago. So either you somehow did the spell wrong, and you and your friends were getting lost, or Rory somehow got out of the cove.
Knowing you and Rory well, Ethan quickly decided it was the latter.
“Do you hear that?” You asked, stopping abruptly and making your friends stumble in confusion. Everyone, save for Sarah and Erica with their heightened senses, strained their ears to hear what you were talking about.
Footsteps. Heavy footsteps.
“That’s gotta be him,” Benny said, relieved that you had finally found Rory. He was starting to get a bit worried.
The five of you went back to your brisk pace, following the sounds of movement. But then you paused again.
“Is that a bear?” You whispered, fear starting to overtake you.
“And Rory,” Sarah added.
It was true; in front of you was a giant bear. You didn’t even know animals beyond little critters were in this forest. And there was Rory, blindfolded and wrists bounded, walking right towards it.
You went into a state of panic
You weren’t even worried about yourself
You were worried about Rory
Poor, clueless, blinded Rory, who was about to walk into a bear that was stalking towards him
Someone needed to do something fast, and you decided it should be you
Letting the adrenaline guide you, you ran to Rory. The bear caught sight of you, but you tried not to think about the way it started baring its teeth at you.
Rory jolted when you grabbed him, trying to squirm out of your iron grip. Using all your strength, you pulled him back to the group and started muttering a spell. Realizing what you were doing, Benny gathered the rest of your friends close to you.
“Watch out!” Ethan yelled, staring at the bear that started charging you from behind.
But one second, it was there, about to chomp its teeth around you. The next, you were all standing in Ethan’s living room, no bear in sight.
“Oh my god, are you okay, Rory?” You cooed, quickly taking off his blindfold and untying the rope that kept his hands together. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the sudden light before looking at you, both confused and enamored.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He let out a puff of air when you suddenly threw yourself onto him, gripping his shoulders tight as you hugged him.
“I was so worried.” You murmured against him.
“What? About me?” Rory asked, slowly letting his arms wrap around your waist. You lifted your head to look at him, face close to his.
“Of course.” You said with sincerity. “Who else?”
There was a beat of silence, and at that moment, Rory took a chance and leaned forward until his lips were locking with yours.
Behind you, your friends were smiling brightly, happy that their plan had worked out in the end. Benny, however, was fake gagging before walking away to find some bleach to wash his eyes with.
#agaypanic#rory keaner x reader#rory keaner headcanons#rory keaner#my babysitter's a vampire#my babysitter's a vampire x reader
50 notes
·
View notes
Text
Education
Lesson #2: Friends Help Friends Cum.
A/N: this wasn’t supposed to be posted until next week. But , I think in light of the current state of Twitter, we could all use a reset. So, here you go.
warnings: smut.
"Wanna get the fuck outta here?" Matty walked straight up to her in the crowded room, drink in one hand, a blunt in the other.
She all but jumped out of her skin. "Holy shi- hello to you, too!" All this time and self-restraint she'd wasted trying to avoid him, not keep her eyes on his every move or watch his every interaction at the party, not think about his hand between her legs the other night, his voice encouraging her, his touch lighting her up, he has ruined it all in 5 seconds.
"Seriously, this party's kinda depressing. Wanna go someplace else?"
"Did you have somewhere in mind?"
Matty shrugged, "not really. could be out on the front steps for all I care. Just- something about being surrounded by all of this" He waved his armed in no specific shape or direction, "it's just- sad."
she nodded. Matty took her by surprise when he grabbed her hand and led her, confidently, through the crowd. She was devastated. She never imagined herself to be such a cliche. The whole "inexperienced, bumbling idiot catches feelings for the bad boy who occasionally sleeps with her" thing is such a tried and tired trope. And, yet, here she finds herself, sweating through her top because he's holding her hand when he didn't necessarily NEED to. She always thought if she were to make a fool of herself over a boy, she’d at least be original about it. But the truth is that her experience is one she shares with all the women in his phone.
***
"I have to say, I never thought I'd see the day that Matty Healy willingly leaves a party early." She took a sip of the drink he'd brought with him, passing the glass back to him. "I mean, we're literally four feet away, on the stairs, but still."
Matty laughed softly, looking up at the sky and considering her words, as if an answer were written in the nights stars. After a moment's pause, he simply shrugged. "Just trying to grow up, I guess."
"That's-"
"Pathetic ?"
"Hot, actually." the words that left her mouth surprised her. She blushed instantly, internally kicking herself for being so careless with her tongue. If Matty was thrown off, he didn't show it.
"I thought you liked my, umm- wait, what did you always used to call it?"
"Sophisticated dickhead act." she reminded him. It sounded more like condemnation.
"Ah, yes! ‘Sophisticated dickhead.’ that's it."
"You pulled it off beautiful, don't get me wrong. But, doing the difficult thing and being a responsible adult, that's...gonna get you so laid."
They both laughed.
"Speaking of getting laid." Matty quirked an eyebrow, looking at her suggestively. "I'm just the right amount of sad, horny, and stoned. Wanna go somewhere?"
"My place."
***
“Lay down for me?” Matty adjusted the pillows on the bed, fluffing them up so they’d be comfortable for her. She blanked for a moment. Focusing a little too much on the “for me.”
“yes- okay.”
“thanks, Darling.”
Oh, she was so in for it.
Desperate for a change of topic, she said the first thing that popped into her head. “So, what’d you have in mind for today?”
Matty giggled. “You make it sound so clinical.”
“well, we’re not exactly, making love or anything.” She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.
Matty hesitated for a moment, his brows curled. “No, I guess we’re not- anyway, I, umm, was going to ask you if you like getting head?”
Now, that, was a swift transition.
“I- uhh- sorry, what?”
“do you like it when guys go down on you?” He asked, bluntly, yet again.
“I, uhhh. No. Sorry.” She squirmed away in embarrassment.
“No, don’t apologize! I’m glad I asked first!”
unprompted, she began to offer up all sorts of explanations. “It’s always boring. Either doesn’t feel pleasurable at all, or feels kinda gross like they’re drooling on me or something. And then there’s that weird feeling of guilt. Like- like, they’re at least trying so I have to be nice about it. I can’t tell them to stop, can I? So- umm…I just end up faking it to get them to quit.”
“Oh, I see.”
“what?” She could see a look on his face that she wasn’t able to read.
“Nothing, nothing.”
“Matty, tell me!”
“It- well, it just sounds like these guys didn’t know what they were doing. And- I mean, if we were to do it, I would never make you have to fake it.”
“oh, really? Is that so?” She smiled, mildly intrigued by the idea.
“yeah, I mean- this is, like, the wankiest shit I’ve ever said- I don’t mean to mansplain the female orgasm to you- I just- I’ve had great reviews is what I’m saying. But, I don’t wanna push it. If you say you don’t like it, then you don’t like it. We’ll just do something else-“
“no, no. Hold on a minute. I wanna try.”
“you do?”
“yeah, I mean, that’s the point of this-“ she stuttered for a moment, “this sex education course…”
“Is that what we’re calling it, then?” Matty chuckled, making her wonder if he meant anything by this question. Did he want it to be what they’re doing? Did he not? “Alright, let’s give it a try. But if you feel uncomfortable or change your mind at any moment, you let me know and we’ll stop, okay?”
she smiled, nodding.
“if you’re too overwhelmed to speak in the moment, just squeeze my hand three times and I’ll stop. Okay? That’ll be our signal.”
***
She couldn’t deny it. Matty was right. He knew exactly what he was doing. Of course, as she’d suspected, it was all in the foreplay. The way he’d delicately touched her, whispered into her ear every single obscene thought that he looked forward to “showing” her and “teaching” her. The way his hands grazed past her nipples, ran down her legs. Hover over her thighs. She was already wet before his tongue had even touched her.
“Relax, darling. Don’t worry about a thing, yeah? No pressure.” There was that ‘darling’ again. At long last, he dipped his head between her thighs, licking into her. She gasped, her body raising slightly, before Matty’s firm grip over her waist kept her in place. Something about his strong arm pinning her down so effortlessly stirred desire within her, so when she felt his mouth at work again, she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming.
“Holy shit! Matty- I- ahh”
Soon, she’d abandoned the idea of remaining quiet. She was begging and moaning for him.
Matty pulled away from her with an obscene slurping sound. “How’re we doing, honey? Still feeling good? Havin fun?”
she appreciated the check in but she also desperately wanted him to shut the fuck up and get back to eating her out.
“Yes, yes, yes. Fine. Fun. Just please-“ her hand reached for his hair, shoving him back down. She imagined that he was smiling.
***
”hey, you look…all blissed out. So it wasn’t fake then?” Matty grinned down at her as she struggled to catch a breath after her orgasm.
“Absolutely not.”
“good to know.” He winked.
“Okay, now your turn.” She sat up on her elbows, looking at him with anticipation.
“what?” He laughed nervously.
“you scratch my back; I scratch yours. Drop your jeans, Healy. Let’s go.”
“we don’t have to do that right now, you know. It’s not a transaction. That’s not the point-“
“I want to. Please? C’mon. Unless you’re not in the mood, then-“
“For you? Im always in the mood.”
***
“Fuckin hell, baby. So good for- just relax your jaw- open up a bit more, that’s it.” Matty mumbled something under his breath, his head tipped backwards, his eyes clothes. “Fuckin perfecttt.”
She felt her breathing flatten, fighting the urge to move her mouth, she kept going, even attempting, at one point, to surprise him and take more of him into her mouth. Unfortunately, her eagerness was not reflected in her gag reflex.
Matty’s eyes shot open, looking down at her. “You alright? Gosh, why did you do that for. I didn’t say you needed to!”
“sorry, sorry, I’m fine! I just thought- I don’t know what I thought.” She look downwards, still heaving and coughing, and now embarrassed.
Matty reached over and wiped at the drool with the back of his hand. “Good students follow instructions. Just do as I say, will you?”
she nodded.
“You wanna keep going?”
“yeah” as soon as she opened her mouth back up, she realized that she did, not, in fact want to keep going.
She reached for his hand and squeezed it three times, instantly getting his attention.
“what? What is it, baby?”
“jaw is tired. Don’t wanna do this anymore.”
He pulled away immediately. “Alright. That okay. Thanks for telling me.”
***
“so, how’s that jaw?”
she rolled her eyes. “It’s fine, Matty! Just like the last five times you asked.”
“And your knees?” His arms squeezed her closer to his side.
“my knees never hurt in the first place. Cuz you set down a pillow and all.”
“okay. Just makin sure.”
“You don’t have to worry about me. Your dick is not that powerful. You ah end broken me.”
Matty chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, let’s go to sleep then.” He turned his back towards her for a moment, to turn out the bedside lamp. “Hey, what are we?” He asked, flicking the switch off.
The darkness hid her shocked and confused expression. “What?”
“I mean, I know I’m showing you all these things…but, I guess I never know if that’s all it is?”
“w-what do you mean?” Her heart drummed with anticipation. He feels it, too. He thinks about it, too. It’s not all in her head.
“I mean, I never know where the boundaries are…like, am I allowed to kiss you? Like when we greet each other and stuff?” He paused for a moment. “Nah, that would get too confusing, wouldn’t it? Guess I just answered my own question, didn’t I? We’re friends. Friends don’t kiss. Yeah?”
“y- umm- right. Yeah. Friends don’t kiss.”
“okay. Glad we cleared that up. Goodnight.”
he rolled over on his side, eventually falling asleep. Leaving her wide awake right by his side.
#matty healy fanfiction#matty healy fanfic#matty healy x reader#matty healy x y/n#matty healy x you#matty healy smut#matty healy fic
293 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Valentine’s Day to Remember Eddie’s POV Part 1
This technically part 2. It will help to read this first. There are three parts like with the first story and will be put up once a day. I will tag for future parts if you want to be tagged, let me know. Preferably in the comments (I might miss them if you hide them in the tags ;) )
And the last part WILL be spicy. I will put the +18 under the cut so you know when it starts.
*
The Corroded Coffin boys were getting tired of Eddie mooning over Steve fucking Harrington. They didn’t have a problem with the guy himself. He had been a little douche-y in high school but they were so beyond the realm of King Steve that they weren’t even on the fucking map.
Nope.
The problem was how Eddie kept talking him up.
“Dude,” Brian sighed. “Just ask him out. You know he’s bi. You know he hasn’t dated in months. Just...something. Please, you’re killing us.”
Eddie growled. “It’s fine for you lot. You’ve all got girlfriends. You know, people you can actually take out in public and be all over without people throwing bricks at you.”
Jeff raised a single eyebrow at him.
Eddie deflated. “I know it’s hard for you and Kelsey, too. But of the two of us, I am more likely to get beaten to death for loving a boy then you are for dating a white girl.”
Jeff cocked his head to the side and then nodded. “Fair enough.”
“So go out of Hawkins for your date,” Gareth suggested. “Take him somewhere that even if people saw two dudes, they wouldn’t immediately clock you as couple.”
Eddie sighed. “This is King Steve with all the Harrington moves and shit. In what world would I be able to take him out on a date that he hasn’t been on a dozen times before.”
The other boys shared glances and grimaces. Eddie had a point.
Brian clapped Eddie’s shoulder. “You’ll come up with something. You always do.”
*
Eddie walked into Family Video to return a tape and chat with his two favorite employees.
They weren’t at the front so he wandered around trying to find them when he heard Steve whining to Robin: “I’m just going to work and then hide in my room until the fifteenth and hope to hell not too many couples come in looking for a romantic movie to ignore after fifteen minutes while they make out.”
Holy shit. This was perfect.
So Eddie did the smart thing and offered to take Steve out. Create the perfect date. Because from what it sounded like, everyone wanted the Harrington ExperienceTM but not actually Steve. And that was positively heartbreaking.
But now he had to plan. And one week to do it in. Eddie wasn’t worried, though. He had put together a four hour one-shot in thirty minutes. He just needed to do a little research first.
First stop: Nancy Wheeler
*
When Nancy came by after Hellfire Club to pick up Mike and Will Eddie pulled her aside for a moment.
“Hey, soo...” he hummed. “Not be all awkward or anything, but I’m taking Steve out for Valentine’s day and I kinda wondered...”
Nancy folded her arms and huffed. “You want to know what our dates were like?”
Eddie nodded shoving his hair in front of his face.
“Just normal date things,” she said. “Dinner and movies and stuff like that.”
Eddie frowned. “You didn’t do anything fun?”
“It was fun,” she insisted. He raised a questioning eyebrow. “It was! Though, I think a couple of previous girlfriends broke him of doing spontaneous stuff like picnics and bowling.”
“That’s really depressing, Wheeler,” Eddie said softly.
Nancy sighed. “Yeah, it kinda was. He liked that sort of thing, but I think the girls were expecting to be wined and dined because his parents were rich.”
“Noted,” he said. “Thanks.” He patted her on the shoulder and smiled.
She cocked her head to the side as he walked away. ‘You don’t want to know things like his favorite color or favorite dish or anything like that?”
Eddie turned around and grinned. “Where’s the fun in that?”
She threw her arms in the air in frustration as he just skipped away.
*
His first stop after talk with Nancy and finding out Steve’s favorite flower, was the florist.
The little bell chimed over head as he walked in.
A very harried looking woman at the counter looked up at him in dread. “If you want roses you’re shit out luck. There is no place in the surrounding area that has them. Please don’t ask.”
Eddie grinned. “Then you, fair lady are in luck. Because I’m not looking for roses.”
She eyed him skeptically. “Yeah? What are you looking for then?”
He pulled out the piece of paper Steve had given him. “All-strow-mary-ahs?”
Her face cleared of fatigue and she blinked. “Alstroemarias?”
Eddie beamed. “That’s the one. I’m looking for six pink and six red.”
“Come with me,” the florist said waving him to follow her to the back room. Eddie bounced up to her and let her lead him to the cooler that held all her remaining flowers. The biggest section held these small lilies of every color. Orange, purple, blue, white, pink, red, even some with multiple colors.
“Are you sure you just want pink and red?” she asked, waving her arm at her selection.
“All these are al-alstr-” he stammered.
“I just call them alstroes,” she said taking pity on him. “It’s easier.”
Eddie sighed in relief. “So all these are alstroes?”
She nodded. “Pretty flower.”
He could only agree. The red ones were bright and not dark the way roses tended to be and the pink ones were the color of the blush on Steve’s cheeks when Eddie told him it was a unique choice. He loved them.
Eddie hummed. “Yup, just the two colors, please.”
The florist smiled. “When do you want them delivered?”
He blinked. “Um...would it…I mean, I would like to pick them up myself, if that’s okay.”
She shrugged. “Sure. People just prefer to get them delivered because the store could be pretty hectic that day.”
Eddie sighed in relief. “No, no. I want to hand them to them directly.”
If she noticed the absence of any gendered pronoun she wisely said nothing. “You can also write a card to go with if you’d like. Or you can choose a standard greeting.”
Eddie pursed his lips together and licked them nervously. “I’d like to write it myself.”
She handed him the card and a pen. He carefully wrote out the note, blushing darker than flowers he was about to buy.
He handed her the card back, shoving hair into his face.
The florist looked at the card and smiled. “The language of flowers. So that’s why you wanted the specific colors.”
Eddie nodded. “I got a book out from the library. Wanted to make Valentine’s day extra special.”
She filled out the order form and using a paper clip added the card to the front of it.
“When would you like to pick up the flowers?” she asked.
“4pm.”
She wrote it down. “All right that will be $3.95.”
Eddie pulled out his wallet and paid the amount. This was the hardest part. Spending the money to make Steve happy. Not that he thought he had to spend a lot on Steve. No, the problem was that Eddie wanted to. But he also knew he had to keep to a budget as to not completely blow this out of proportion.
*
Whenever Eddie needed to know something over the course of the week, he would just ask Steve. Because just because his favorite color was green two years ago didn’t mean that it was still his favorite color. Which coincidentally it wasn’t.
Steve had called it baby blue but it was more cerulean. It was a pretty color blue if Eddie was pressed. It certainly brought out the hazel in his brown eyes.
Which was not a thing Eddie noticed. No. Nope. Nope. Not at all.
He called the florist to update the order to new color of tissue paper to wrap the flowers in. The florist nearly sobbed in relief when he said he didn’t want pink, red, or white.
Eddie had agreed to take his sheep to the arcade because he was going to be busy on Saturday. He knew that realistically that most of them had dates anyway, and wouldn’t want play that day either, but it was still something he could do for them instead of DMing that week.
“Look, man,” Eddie was complaining to Dustin, “I have a budget for this shit, I can’t just go to the fanciest restaurant in town and drop $20 on dinner. Not to mention this late in the game, there is no way I’m even going to get a foot in the door let alone get a reservation.”
They were waiting in the Wheeler’s front room on Mike, who was taking forever.
Nancy’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m coming with you to drop the kids off,” she announced just as Mike walked out.
“What? Why?” Mike asked.
“Because I need to go to the store, and Eddie can take me,” she said in the tone that booked no argument.
Eddie shrugged. “There’s plenty of room, I don’t see why not.”
She smiled, wrinkling her nose and Eddie gulped.
Eddie picked up the rest of the gremlins and dropped them off at the arcade. He turned to Nancy and said, “So what’s this really about?”
She smiled sweetly. “I’m going to teach how to make Steve’s favorite dishes and then you can decide candlelit dinner at your place or a picnic. I don’t really care which.”
Eddie blinked and then eyed her suspiciously. “Why are you helping me?”
Nancy sighed. “The one Valentine’s day Steve and I had together, I spent looking into Barb Holland’s death.” She looked down at her hands. “She was my best friend and I hated not knowing what happened to her. Steve was supportive. Because of course he was. But I threatened him that if he bought me so much as flowers or chocolates, I was going to shoot him.”
Eddie winced. “And then the last two Valentine’s days were just shit for the guy...”
She nodded. “I don’t think Steve’s had a good Valentine’s day since elementary.”
Eddie chewed his lip. “All right let’s do this. What all do we need?”
Nancy’s smile was sweeter as she patted his cheek.
Part 2 Part 3
Tag List: @zerokrox-blog @bidisastersworld @swimmingbirdrunningrock @madamonsieur-silvrene @artiststarme @samcoxramblings @maya-custodios-dionach @bejeweledbaby @spreckle @a-little-unsteddie @krazyperson @princess-josephina @wonderland-girl143-blog @plutoshelm @newtstabber@bookbinderbitch @darkwitchoferie
216 notes
·
View notes
Text
***
Poisoned Empanadas
***
Pairing:
Moon Knight (Jake Lockley) x Spider!fem!reader
Spider-Man 2099 (Miguel O'Hara) x Spider!fem!reader
***
18+
Warnings:
Violence, strong language, mentions of death, mentions of depression, sexual themes, sex dream, confusing switching of two look alike characters
***
Summary:
It's all fun and games, until you get your motives questioned by a grumpy wizard. Then your subconscious decides to fuck with you.
***
Chapter 4 - A - Empanadas de manzana - Chiloé Island, Chile
This is a sweet and tart apple pastry. It's made with cinnamon, cloves, lemon juice, and vanilla, and has a buttery flakey dough.
***
Miguel had been very appreciative of the pizza. He had torn into the box and devoured three whole pieces, before you even got your box of chicken wings open. He looked like he was starving and you felt the same way, but you certainly weren't going to act like an animal.
He did look amusing though.
"Oh, shock. It's so good! I've never had pizza like this before. This is amazing!" Miguel finally spoke.
His face was pure bliss as he licked his fingers clean. You swallowed thickly, finding yourself drooling. You weren't sure if it was the image of him eating like a beast, or the fact that he was licking his fingers obscenely clean. You just knew it wasn't the wings that made your mouth water.
You two talked about patrols, recent current events that you thought he should be aware of, and then you went over all the local slang and currently used curse words. His little AI companion was quietly keeping score of all information, and by the time you finished your wings, it was early morning.
After the food was gone, you deposited the packaging and waste into the dumpster behind the pizza joint. When you turned around, Miguel was gone. Nothing remained of his presence, aside from the spot he had accidently dumped a package of hot sauce after he tore it open the wrong way.
You were disappointed that he didn't say goodbye. It was alright though, because now you knew he existed, and you wouldn't be scared to see him during the day in public and accidentaly mistake him for your ex. You decided to start the journey home, swinging back towards the Sanctum.
***
It was about four am when you got in and the building was quiet, aside from the usual sounds of the unusual. The journey to your room was uneventful, right up until you got to the door of the round sitting room that led to your room.
There Stephen and Peter were, books scattered all around them. Peter was upside down, hanging from the roof with a notebook and pen in his hands, while Stephen was floating upside down in front of him, firing off questions.
"Holy shit, boys. You're still awake?" You exclaimed, which threw Peter off enough to slip down a few inches from the web rope he was holding.
"Oh, hey! Yeah! Stephen made me this weird tea, and it kept me up all night. He's been trying to help me study and fall asleep, but I am still awake!" Peter quickly said as he let go of the rope and fell to his feet. His eyes were wide, yet he had dark bags under them. He was wired, and the doctor didn't seem concerned.
"Yeah… My bad, I didn't even think about his Spider physiology. I just dosed him according to his age." Stephen declared with a shrug.
"It's alright, doc! I'm fine!" Peter said while snatching up his books and throwing them into his backpack.
"You say that now, but once it wears off, you'll be tired and burned out. I think it's time you go to bed, my boy." Stephen chuckled and placed a hand to Peter's shoulder.
"Naw, I have so much energy! I could stay up until my exam at 4pm. I'm sure of it-" Peter blabbered on for a moment and he suddenly went limp as the doctor caught him. The lad was out cold and you were worried, until Peter let out a rumbling snore.
"Is he snoring?" You asked. Stephen nodded and smiled as he hauled Peter up into his arms and went over to his bedroom door.
"Yeap. Had to use a sleeping spell. I'll cast a cleansing one as he sleeps, then he can sleep until I get him up for his exam." Strange smiled as he disappeared into the room. He came out moment later and shut the door. The sorcerer seemed amused.
"He's doing that burrito nest thing again. I don't know how he can stand all those blankets and the fireplace on at the same time." Stephen casually remarked as he flicked his hands to clean the room up. There were webs everywhere, which meant Peter had probably literally crawled the walls while being high on whatever the doctor had given him.
"He does that when he's exhausted. It's good ya knocked him out. He's barely been sleeping because of school." You replied as you helped Stephen remove the webbing that was literally everywhere.
"Yeah, I figured as much. So, how was the night watch?" Stephen asked while casually leaning on nothing, the cloak aiding him to do so. He had both arms crossed and an inquisitive look on his face as the room kept cleaning itself. By now most of the mess was gone, leaving just a bit by your door.
"It went well." You gave a short reply and tried to move towards your door. The moment you blinked, you found yourself at the entrance to the round room again.
Fuck. He had more to say and you weren't getting away easily.
"Just well?" Stephen asked with a quirked brow and a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
Oh no. He was doing that weird thing again. The power of deduction. It was one of his many natural talents and you loathed it when he focused that skill on you. Even though he wasn't your dad or anything, he sure fucking acted like one.
"Yeah." You shrugged and gave him a smile. He squinted at you and then chuckled with a gentle shake of his head.
Oh lord… Did he see something? A fault in your expression? Maybe he was using that third eye of his…
"Really? You didn't call for back up. You didn't even check in every hour, like you're supposed to. You must have been busy with something."
Riiight. That. You had forgotten to do so, what with Miguel appearing and then hanging out with him, instead of doing your job. Maybe if you gave up more truth, he'd back off and leave you alone-
"Ah. Well, it's funny you say that… The dark sauce spots on your torso confirms you had food. Wings again, right?" He pointed to the small splotches of the wing sauce and you smiled and shrugged. He kept going, not letting you say a word just yet.
"Also, I can clearly smell a garbage scent. It's not pungent, not enough of it to signal it was on you. But it is enough for me to tell that you were in close proximity to someone that maybe was filthy?" He asked and you tried so hard to keep calm. You'd never avoided telling him the truth before, but alas, you did smell a little. You couldn't even be mad at the comment.
"I was just talking with a friend. We grabbed pizza and wings." You tried to say, and Stephen just chuckled softly.
"Ah, I see… Who was this friend? Were you in uniform?"
"Yes, I was in uniform. His name is Miguel. He's from out of town." You explained and Stephen raised a brow.
"Also, judging by the fact you're not as chatty as you initially were when Peter was conscious, informs me you don't want to talk about this friend. Am I right?" By now the man was so smug looking.
"Fuck! Of course you're right, doc. I don't want to discuss my friend."
He was quiet for a moment as you squirmed, his smirk getting wider.
"Ah, I see. Is it a love interest? It's good to get back out there." He said, that damned grin not leaving his face.
"Uh, sure. Look, doc, I am really tired, and I have to get up early and-"
"No you don't. You planned on staying in and taking over Peter's gaming station. You made a big deal of it and everything with that new small animal town game that just came out. You even made me go to the store and get it." Stephen explained as he produced the game in question and waved it in your face. Damn him and his magic tricks and his stupid perfect memory. You snatched it from his hands and looked away.
His words made you sigh and rub the back of your neck sheepishly. You almost wanted to cry in frustration and exhaustion. Stephen noticed how you got quite stressed. His face softened and he sighed right back as he put his hands up in defence.
"Look, it's none of my business, but when you didn't call or text, I was getting worried, and Peter was as well. He asked me to check up on you, and when I did, you were sitting with another Spider. One that Peter doesn't know and has never seen before. He did, however, freak out, because he looks exactly like your ex…"
"Ah, fuck."
"Is that what Jake does at night? Is he a Spider-Folk and just hid it from you? I ask, because I only had a visual, and no audio. I remember you telling me about his peculiarities, before. I want to make sure you're safe. Peter was all ready to suit up and go kick his ass."
"May I sit down for this?" You huffed and motioned to the lounger. Stephen rubbed his face and nodded.
"Okay, look… The guy I was talking to looks like Jake, but he's not. He has proof that he isn't. Jake has some Egyptian symbols on his left arm, this guy did not." You said as you drew out the symbols on a piece of paper.
Stephen watched as you copied down the tattoo. His brows furrowed as you managed to write almost each symbol correctly from memory. Once he was done reading them, his brows shot up.
"That's… You're sure of the tattoo Jake has?" He asked as he took the paper and squinted at it.
"Uh, yeah. Sorry those pictures suck."
"They are actually quite good. You only made a mistake on this one, at the end. It's supposed to have a different bird to it, but otherwise, it's surprisingly accurate." He explained softly.
"Well, what does it say? Some lame ass thing, like 'live, love, laugh' or something?" You asked.
"Uh, yeah. It's very close to that, but in more words." Stephen huffed.
He had a look of concern on his face, which betrayed his words. He tried hiding it by rubbing at his tired looking eyes. You could tell he wasn't exactly telling you the whole truth, but he was tired and you were willing to drop the whole conversation, just because you got to skim over who you were with. Turning away, you hoped that was the end of the talk, when Stephen shifted in his seat.
"What's his name?" The doctor suddenly asked. It made you freeze on the spot.
"I… I don't want to out him"
"I won't tell Peter, or anyone else. I just want to make sure he's not on my watch list."
"Oh… Okay… His name is Miguel O'Hara."
The moment the Spanish Spider's name was mentioned, Stephen crinkled his nose.
Oh shit. Was Miguel on his list? If he was, that meant you had an obligation to help the wizard find and catch the new Spider. It would be so easy for Stephen, and you didn't want to have to go hunt this poor man down…
"No idea who that even is." He finally announced and gave a long yawn. It encouraged a yawn from you, and you gave him a smile.
"So, are we good? May I go to bed now, doc?" You asked while rubbing at your face. The wizard moved forward and gave you a weak smile.
"Sure… But, please don't go jumping into anything blindly. I know how much you miss Jake, and trying to fill that void with a look a like, doesn't help. Trust me, I know." Stephen patted your shoulder and turned away to leave.
"Yeah…" You muttered and went into your room.
***
It should have been warm, but it wasn't. It wasn't cold, either. It felt like the absence of both and it wasn't bad or good. It felt like a dream, and maybe it was. Everything was off, like an artificial intelligence program that was trying really hard to replicate reality and failing only slightly. It was enough to know it wasn't real.
It was dark, but everything was crystal clear and it was breathtakingly beautiful. A rolling landscape lined with buildings of all sizes and shapes, colors, and lights. They went on forever into the sparkling night like an 80s retro synthwave album cover.
"It's amazing to look at, isn't it, doll?"
That voice.
You knew it anywhere. The distinct gravelly drawl was thick with a mix of Spanish and American tones. That was unmistakably Jake Lockley's voice. Hearing it now, made you feel stupid that you ever thought Miguel sounded like him. They were somehow two entirely different sounding accents, even though their voices were nearly identical.
"But of course, none of it compares to you, mi estrella." As he spoke, your vision blurred a little as you were turned to look at him.
He was stunning as he sat there in a grey tux, his legs dangling from the ledge where he sat. He had his customary bloodied plaster over the bridge of his nose, and his hair was slicked back with a few stray curls over his eyes. It was weird to see him lacking his hat, but he was wearing those gloves he was so fond of.
You tried to speak, but unfortunately nothing came out, save for a sigh. Jake's grin got wider and he tilted his head, almost looking past you. He looked so crisp and clean, when you were used to him looking like an overworked cabbie. Sure, he did clean up well, but never like this.
The suit was just too perfect. Not a detail out of place. Everything an expensive suit should have, was there. Dress shirt, tie, vest, pocket square, and pants. Even his shoes were tailored, looking like a nice shined up Italian leather. Everything was that rich charcoal shade, with the tie, shirt, gloves, and pocket square all being black.
The small detailing on the suit was phenomenal. The patterns on the fabric all appeared to be related to his interests in regards to Egypt, with everything from hieroglyphics to stylized patterns from that time period. It was subtle and stylish, but it was throwing you off.
"I miss you, you know. Every night I think about you. It helps to keep me going, knowing you'll be there when I get back." He murmured softly as he reached out to take your hand.
You looked down and felt your heart beating wildly in your chest. He was always so romantic, you know, when he was around. Of course this dream was projecting that positive trait. Missing him felt awful, and boy did you ever miss him.
Jake took your hand to his lips as he dipped his head down to kiss it. You squirmed, trying to will yourself to take your hand away, but you didn't budge. Jake took it as a sign to keep going and he pulled you closer, kissing his way past your wrist up your arm, and to your shoulder. It shot a shiver down your spine as your body reacted to him the way it always had.
"Do you know why I call you, 'mi estrella'? I consider you like the sun, and myself the moon. You're so brilliant and warm, and your greatness shines so brightly. It reflects onto me, making me feel like my heart is full." In the blink of an eye, you found yourself sitting in his lap as he husked out romantic words of adoration to you in Spanish.
You didn't remember doing so at all. His hands were roaming all over you, his rough voice groaning into your ear. His kisses had moved to the spot by your ear, nibbling, sucking, and licking the skin there. Every touch and every whisper was setting you aflame. It was so familiar, it felt safe, and you gave in to the motions of the experience.
Just as you surrendered to the dream, everything decided to go screwy. The night sky and the lights of the city all went dark. A low growling came from behind Jake, and when you looked, there were two small red dots staring at you. When you blinked, everything shook, and then they were gone.
When you looked back at Jake, he had changed subtly. At first you didn't quite know what it was, until he opened his eyes and shot you a toothy grin.
Sharp fangs and twinkling crimson eyes shown back at you.
"Don't think about him. His pretty words mean nothing when he keeps breaking your heart." Miguel's distinct voice hit your ears. You felt a ripple of heat go through you when you realized you were still in the same position you had been with Jake.
Right in Miguel's lap.
"Miguel." The words came out soft, like a whimper as you felt Miguel pull you closer. He whispered your name and dipped his head down to capture your lips. You closed your eyes, sighing happily as you felt him tip you backwards.
"Él no te merece." He groaned as he pushed firmly against you.
Oh.
Ooohhh…
Things sped up, like a choppy and thrown together home movie. Miguel's hands seemed like they were everywhere and his mouth was busy nipping at your neck. You could feel the drag of his teeth along your throat, which made you shudder at how easily he could tear it out if he so wished.
The scene switched to him tearing your clothes off, starting with your top at the arms. He started out by slipping your gloves off and throwing them behind him carelessly, then moved on to popping one of his claws out and slicing your sleeve, all the way up to your neck. He did the same to the other sleeve and then sliced downwards, going carefully, yet dangerously close to your skin.
"So beautiful… Hermosa." Everywhere he cut open, his mouth followed suit as he kissed and licked at your flesh. He was passionate as he gently rutted against you. You could only whimper, whine, and squirm as he worked, tearing and peeling your suit away from your body.
Your pants were swiftly taken from you, and somehow Miguel was also lacking any attire. The moment didn't last much longer, because he quickly kissed you as he grabbed at your thighs and hoisted you up to meet his hips. He was quick to kiss down to your neck again, this time biting and sinking his fangs in.
Pleasure rocketed through your body as he filled you just slow enough for you to get used to the feeling of him. He felt so good as he hit the back and stayed still. He growled, while you gasped and wriggled in his grasp, but finding all it did was move him around inside you.
He started to move, slowly at first, but the dream chose to slow it down even more as he increased his pace. You soon found nothing but a cloud of pleasure and felt his claws digging into your hips as he pounded into you. It didn't hurt like you thought it would, and instead, it was a wonderful sting of euphoria as the man ravaged you to his liking.
You had no idea how long this lasted for. Every time you closed your eyes and opened them, you were in a different position, but it was still Miguel. Nearly all of them where he could reach your neck, he had bitten you each time, and each time, it filled you with a thrill like no other.
All the noises were down right pornographic.
Skin was slapping against skin.
Lungs burned as you made obscene noises.
Miguel snarled and growled like a beast as he kept up his assault on you.
A much welcome assault, mind you. You felt so good through the whole thing. Every part of you reacted accordingly.
But as dreams go and flow, they would eventually end.
There was the most wonderful climax you had ever had in a dream, and then everything was black.
"Don't forget about me, mi estrella."
Those words hit your heart, and everything suddenly felt heavy.
Note:
***
Series Master List
***
Rise and live again as my fist of vengeance. My Moon Knight
Is written on Moon Knight's pants. Stephen reads something similar in the hieroglyphics the reader presented to him.
Estrella is 'star' in Spanish. Hermosa is 'beautiful'. Él no te merece. is 'He doesn't deserve you.'
I use Google translate, so if it's wrong, sorry about that. Feel free to correct me.
***
Special thanks to:
Beta Reader:
@einno-arko
Proof Reader:
@iceclaw101
Ideas and discussion:
@einno-arko @howaboutcastiel @theaussiedragon
***
Tags:
@theaussiedragon @autismsupermusicalassassin @readingfan @missdragon-1 @marvelescvpe @lunar-ghoulie @cicithemess2000 @animesnowstorm @mahbeanz @dafuqelaine @bby-lupin @paranoiac-666 @konniebon @cl0v3r-s0up @seraphine-so-pretty @jupitersmoon167 @butterflypillows @ivystoryweaver @mintellaine @bxdbxtxh15 @badbishsblog @cleothegoldfish @xxmadamjinxx @bitchyexpertprincess @sakurayuki8655-blog
#moon knight#marvel moon knight#jake lockley#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley x y/n#jake lockley x you#18+ fanfic#jake lockley x fem!reader#jake lockley smut#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara x fem!reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#jake lockley x spiderwoman!reader#spider man 2099 smut#spider man 2099#moon knight smut#poisoned empanadas
142 notes
·
View notes
Text
Episode 5, here we go. I'm only going into this with slightly higher hopes because Alastor's in it
Charlie and Vaggie share a bed, that's fuckin cute
"I've been up all night trying to figure out why the hotel isn't working" GIRL it's because you need an actual THERAPIST to help these demons. If you and Angel Dust actually talked it out in episode 4 you might've realized this
"[Lucifer] let the extermination happen to begin with!" Did he??? Because last I heard it sounded solely like a decision by Heaven
Charlie babe I really, REALLY don't think Heaven's going to give a shit if they let Adam keep his status as an angel
Charlie has the contact info for every egg boy that's fuckin CUTE
Why are we making fun of Charlie for having "daddy issues" when Lucifer wasn't a present parent, literally why is this still a trope ugh
Oh cool we're making Lucifer adorkable and silly. I'd normally say it's cute that he and Charlie are so similar but we literally just established he wasn't a great parent to her, so why are we trying to make him funny and relatable
WHY IS HIS RINGTONE FOR CHARLIE CIRCUS MUSIC
Jfc this man sounds and acts like Charlie's brother, nothing about him gives off dad vibes whatsoever
Is God even a thing in this universe?? Charlie talks about wanting to talk to the top of Heaven's ranks yet I haven't heard God be mentioned once
"My daughter wants to see me! Take THAT depression!" motherfucker you are her DAD. You should've been an actual good parent to her if you want her to stick around
Al giving Lucifer the Stink Eye is cracking me up, me too man
"AhAAAAH. Fuck you." Oh Al is MAD mad lmao
"Hoho golly, you like GIRLS" Man knows literally NOTHING about his daughter WOW
Once AGAIN song jumpscare
MAN WHIPPED OUT HIS GOLDEN FIDDLE
"Big talk for someone's who's also on a leash." Oh??? Lore?????? In THIS show??????? Lore that isn't answered 0.2 seconds later?? That's a first lol
As much as I don't like Lucifer I honestly don't really blame him for being hesitant to want sinners to go to Heaven because yeah Heaven seems fuckin awful from all that we've seen of it
"How can [Alastor] have faith in me but my own father can't?" He doesn't though, Al decided to help out with the hotel out of sheer boredom. Love how this show can't even keep its own story straight lmao
Wait DOES Al suddenly care?? When did this happen????
Holy shit the first song to not jumpscare me, that's a first
Oh fuck off this is a good song but once again it feels completely unearned
Fuck OFFF why is this song legitimately so good, this show doesn't deserve to make me emotional
Oh shit Vaggie's a fallen angel I'm gonna call it right now
Okay overall, one of least grating episodes so far. I really hope we see Lucifer actually trying to be more involved in Charlie's life and y'know, actually grow a bit, but I'm not keeping my hopes up. This show is SO immensely frustrating because it keeps giving these tiny scraps of genuine emotion and good storytelling that's just buried amongst sex jokes and swears, and it's just enough to make me want to keep watching. If it were just objectively bad all around I would've just dropped it already. Ugh.
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mankai Therapy Company
tsumugi vc you guys need so much therapy on god
It started, like it always did, with extortion.
Or rather, it started at a company meeting.
“I,” Tsumugi announced, “have great news.”
“You’re getting married?” Citron all but yelled. Tsumugi choked.
“N-”
“I didn’t hear Tasuku say anything,” Itaru muttered without looking up from his handheld gaming device, still managing to be heard by everyone in the room.
“I’m not getting married!” He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly before opening them. “I - we-” he gestured towards the Director- “called everyone in here to tell you that I was able to contact one of my old colleague’s practices, and they said they’d be willing to do business with our company at a reduced price.”
“Practice?” Muku echoed in confusion.
“He’s telling us to see a shrink.” Yuki said flatly.
“Only if you feel comfortable doing so,” Tsumugi curled his fists to keep himself from wringing his hands together. It was best not to show nerves in these situations. “I acknowledge that it is a personal choice and I won’t force anyone into this. However, if you do decide to take this opportunity, it’s now arranged so that the company will pay for your sessions in full.”
“Am I dreaming?” Tsuzuru blinked. “Did you just say free health insurance?”
“Holy shit, are you crying?”
“No!” He rubbed his eyes quickly. Kazunari patted him on the arm.
“There, there, Tsuzuroon.”
Sakyo cleared his throat. “I have a question.”
“Yes?” Tsumugi did his best to make his expression open and nonjudgmental.
“Or a concern. Where in the company’s budget have these funds been allocated?”
Tsumugi’s smile was unchanging, not flickering or wavering in the slightest. “Sorry, let me rephrase that. Anyone who works for Mankai Company who wants to see a therapist, counselor, psychiatrist, or any mental health professional now can, free of charge, with any copayments covered in full. Is that understood?”
Izumi had to hand it to Tsumugi, the soft-spoken man could be downright scary when he wanted to be. Why was it always the nice ones?
“I’ll be reviewing this on next month’s budget.”
“Great!” Tsumugi hummed. “Does anyone else have a question?”
“Yeah,” Taichi raised his hand, “why are you telling us to go to therapy? Isn’t that for, like, divorced couples and depressed shut-ins and stuff? I mean, none of us qualify for that, right?”
Tsumugi’s eye twitched. He couldn’t help it.
“Hey, Tsumugi!”
Tsumugi looked up from the script he’d been reading on the sofa, politely greeting Taichi in return as the boy opened the fridge and grabbed a soda. He frowned slightly.
“Nanao, don’t you have school tomorrow?”
“Yep!” Taichi nodded as he popped the soda cap off and took a swig. “Uh, why? Is there something else happening tomorrow?”
“No, I just-” he looked pointedly towards the soda. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to drink so much caffeine before bed? Won’t you have trouble going to sleep?”
“Oh, this?” Taichi laughed and rubbed his neck. “It - okay, this might sound fake, but I swear soda and caffeine actually make me sleepier! Weird, right?”
“That’s certainly…interesting.”
“Azuma, my dear, my camellia that blossoms in the moonlight,” Homare paused. “Were you, perchance, the one that moved my tea bags?”
“Hm? No. Why, are you missing some?”
“No.” Homare closed his eyes for a few seconds before opening them. “I…apologize for the accusation. Thank you.” He turned around to leave before-
“Aha!”
“Oh crap,” was all Tasuku could manage before Homare accosted him. “Tasuku, my Adonis, you wouldn’t happen to have moved my tea bags this morning, would you?”
“Uh, yeah?” He blinked. “They were in front of the cereal. I didn’t take any, though, if you’re missing some.”
“I’m not!” Homare reassured him. “I simply woke up to find the lavender and chai had switched places, and the lemon much farther to the left than it should be, which as you can imagine is quite a distressing predicament to find oneself in.”
“I…I really can’t imagine that, no.”
He hummed. “Well, if you do find yourself moving my teas again, please ascertain that they are relocated back to their original positions, would you?”
Tasuku didn’t have the energy to argue. “Okay, sure.”
Azuma chuckled. “Classic Homare.”
Tsumugi bit his lip.
“Ah, Tenma,” Tsumugi slid a sheet of paper across the table and tapped on it. “This kanji is backwards.”
“Huh?” Tenma snatched up the paper and stared at it, blinking hard. “Oh…oh, yeah, you’re right. Sorry.” He winced.
“It’s no problem,” Tsumugi smiled gently. “Let’s just correct it and move on, shall we?”
“Yeah,” Tenma’s ears were still flushed, “yeah, okay.”
“I’ve got it!” Tsuzuru slammed open the door forcefully and marched in like a knight on a mission. A pale, scrawny, sickly looking knight with unwashed hair and dark eyebags. “I’ve got the new script!” He grinned maniacally.
Itaru looked up. “Five.”
“That’s great, Tsuzuru!” Izumi smiled and took the packet, still warm from the printer. “I’ll read through this tonight and have my notes ready by tomorrow.”
“Are you okay?” Tsumugi asked.
“I’m fine. I’m great! I’m wonderful!” Tsuzuru said, a little forcefully.
Citron stood. “Four.”
“When was the last time you slept?”
“I can’t just sleep, Tsukioka, what if I forget a line or piece of dialogue?”
“Wouldn’t want that to happen,” Chikage muttered. “Three.”
“Still - sorry, what are you counting for?”
Sakuya just shrugged, half-smiling apologetically. “It’s just easier to coordinate this way. Two.”
“Coordinate what?”
Tsuzuru collapsed face first into Masumi’s arms. “...One.”
“Taichi’s right, I don’t think any of us need that therapy crap. ‘Cept for Hyodo, maybe someone’ll find out why he’s so chronically annoying.”
Juza elbowed Banri in the ribs. He retaliated by punching his shoulder.
“It’s a scam anyway.” Yuki spoke up before the fight could escalate further. “Therapy’s just a pseudoscience made to make normal people feel good about themselves by talking to a stranger. No offense.”
Tsumugi steepled his fingers. “None taken. On a related note, how many of you have actually been to therapy?”
Yuki looked away, muttering something about school counselors and zero tolerance policies. Nobody else seemed willing to speak up.
“I have!” Misumi raised his hand. Tsumugi blinked, trying not to look surprised.
“Really?”
“Mhmm! I think?” Misumi leaned back on the sofa. “I was really young.”
“What…how was it?”
“They gave me some toys to play with and asked Gramps a lot of questions,” he shrugged. “Don’t remember much else.”
“I…see.” Tsumugi said slowly. “That’s very…enlightening. Thank you.” He coughed. “Still, I have a stack of business cards here, so I would like all of you to take one.”
Banri glared at his card like its existence offended him. Kazunari flipped his over and shoved it into his pocket when he was sure nobody was looking. Misumi also put his in his pocket, but only after forcing the edges down to make a triangle fold.
Tsumugi prayed that he made the right decision to be so upfront about this. Then again, it wasn’t like anyone else was going to make the first move.
He had almost forgotten about it, a month later, when Banri stormed into his room and practically threw the business card at him. “Rurikawa was right, therapy’s a total scam. I want a refund and I didn’t even pay anything.”
Secretly Tsumugi was pleased that Banri had relented into going for a few sessions, but he forced those feelings down. “It’s normal to feel upset after a session. But if you feel like you’re being treated unfairly, you can always ask for another therapist.”
“Yeah, I’m being ‘treated unfairly’.” Banri rolled his eyes and sat down on the floor, right in front of him. “You still have your license, right? Why can’t you be our therapist?”
“That’d be an extreme conflict of interest and highly illegal.”
“Didn’t know we cared about the law,” Banri muttered under his breath.
“If you want to talk, though, I always can as a friend.”
“Right, so,” he waved his hand flippantly. “I was just telling this chick about Hyodo eating my pudding with my name on it, and in the middle she looks me right in the eyes and says Oh, wow, you must really like this Hyodo person to talk about them so much!”
“Oh. Wow.”
“As if! I was just telling you how much he pissed me off, seriously, how dense do you have to be to NOT understand that?”
Tsumugi bit back several comments. “I can’t imagine.”
“Ugh. Anyways. This sucks.”
“Sometimes it does,” he said sympathetically.
“Tsumugi!”
He barely had time to blink before Homare’s fingers had interlaced with his, a quick kiss pressed to his temple. “Hello, Angel!”
“Hello, Homare,��� he smiled, more than used to these random bouts of affection. “How are you?”
Homare glanced down the hallway quickly before leaning in close to his ear. “Actually, I do have a topic I wanted to discuss with you. Your knowledge on the subject would provide valuable insight on the matter.”
Tsumugi felt the back of his neck prickle. “What is it?”
“Do you think I’m on the spectrum?”
“There’s...a lot of spectrums, Homare.”
He tsked. “True. I- I initially assumed my therapist said I might be on the artistic spectrum, and I told them that I was a renowned poet on the literary arts spectrum, but-” he sighed dramatically, “they simply laughed and gave me a pamphlet to ‘read over’.”
“I see,” Tsumugi squeezed his hand. “And you read it?”
“I…I did, yes.”
Thank god, FINALLY, Tsumugi wanted to say. Instead, he very tactfully asked, “What did you think?”
“I am,” Homare frowned slightly. “Not sure. I’m afraid I must deliberate on the matter further before drawing forth any hasty conclusions.”
“Well,” Tsumugi kissed his cheek. “There’s no rush.”
Hisoka looked left, then right, then cautiously reached for the doorknob before-
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Chikage snapped, crossing his arms.
“There’s a pop-up sweets shop in the next town,” he yawned plainly. “I want to see it.”
Chikage narrowed his eyes. “I thought you were expressly forbidden from driving.”
“It’s only a few minutes,” he shrugged.
Chikage’s lip curled. “Are those Tasuku’s keys?”
“He’s out jogging.” Hisoka answered. It was getting harder and harder to stay-
He felt somebody shaking him. “I hope you were planning on asking your boyfriend to drive you.”
“I can drive myself,” Hisoka felt a twinge of annoyance. “It’s fine.”
“Right,” Chikage closed his eyes. “Get in Chigasaki’s car before you do anything stupid.” He shook his head and muttered, “Of all the reckless…I can’t believe you fell asleep in the MRI machine-”
Tsumugi watched the door slam shut on Hisoka’s smirking face.
#astra rambles#a3!#ficposting#Note 1: this is supposed to be lighthearted so i tried to stick mostly with what i'm familiar with#that being said not everything here is a reflection of my personal opinion and shouldn't be used as a self-diagnosis yadda yadda#Note 2: in typical fanfic irony i banged this whole thing out through the power of hyperfocusing at 1 am. go figure.
86 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm Back!
Pairings: Dean x Reader
Requested:
The reader having grew up with Sam and Dean and dean always being in love with her and one day while Sam and Dean were on a hunt she randomly disappeared and Bobby seemed to know something he didn’t but wouldn’t tell him.
Dean after years realizes he’s not gonna ever get over her and always is gonna picture her when he hooks up with someone and imagine she’s the reader and is at some point alone in the hotel room and starts imaging the two of them together.
But finds out after all these years she went into the army and didn’t want Sam and him finding out because she thought they would tease her and she gets back and she got a little taller and was skinner from not eating over there
Warnings: Violence, sadness, Army.
Bobby hears a knock on the door. He gets his gun and holy water ready. He slowly opens the door and sees Sam and Dean.
"Have you seen Y/n?" Dean asks, walking right in. Bobby sighs shaking his head.
"We can't find her. I'm starting to get worried." Sam chimes in.
"No, I haven't" Bobby lies.
"She was last seen here, did she say anything about a hunt?"
"No. She just came by" He lies again.
"Something happened to her! We've gotta find her." Dean paces around Bobby's house.
"Dean, relax. I'm sure she's fine."
"Wait." Dean stops walking up to Bobby. "Why aren't you worried?" Bobby doesn't say anything. "You know where she is!"
"Dean" Bobby says. Sam sides with Dean.
"Bobby, just tell us. Is she okay?" Sam says, standing next to Dean. Bobby sighs loudly taking a seat.
"I can't say where she is. I promised, I wouldn't say anything."
"It's us!" Dean scoffs "You can tell us!"
"No!" He yells "I can't tell you where she is." The boys back down.
"We'll find her on our own." Dean says leaving without even giving him another look.
~ 6 years later ~
Dean sits in the empty bunker, his brother is off finding things to do. Dean has been depressed ever since you went missing, Bobby still never told him anything. Every time he sees some girl walking around he gets a glimpse of you, he thinks he sees you. He can't hook up with anyone without thinking of you, he can't save anyone without thinking of you. The thought of you has completely taken up his mind, he can't think of anything else.
When he looks at his car, he remembers the time you were laughing while he tried to teach you how to fix the engine. Or when you would fall asleep in the back of his car after every single hunt because you loved sleeping. Any motel room he stays in he swears he can hear you singing in the shower, or reading your book on the bed. Sometimes he's not even sure how he gets up in the morning, hunting is really the only thing he has left, besides Sam. He just doesn't understand why you wouldn't tell him you were leaving.
"I found a case" Sam comes in the room, Dean jumps a little startled. "You good man?" Sam asks Dean.
"Yeah" He answers quickly "Let me see" He holds out his hand. Sam hands him the paper, he reads over it and stands up. "Alright, let's go"
~
"We'll go check out the house tomorrow." Sam says putting his things on the motel bed. "I'm gonna go in for a shower" He pats Dean on the back. Dean lays back on his bed, he closes his eyes and thinks of how different life could be with you. How a normal life would be with you. He swears he can smell your favorite perfume, the way your laugh sounds, how your hands feel on him. The stupid smile you always give him, the way you say his name.
"Dean" you call out to him. He smiles at you.
"What is it?"
"I just wanted to remind you that I kicked your ass today" You grinned at him. He shakes his head laughing.
"I let you win, sweetheart" He winks at you.
"Yeah sure" You roll your eyes. "Let's go again" You say getting off you bed jumping onto his. You jump on him attacking him, he quickly flips you so you're on your back.
"Told ya" He laughs letting you go.
"I'm calling re-do for tomorrow" You pout laying in his bed.
"Dean" Sam says shaking him..
"Hmm, Y/n?" Dean looks around, the memory felt so real.
"Uh" Sam scratches the back of his neck. "I was just making sure you were okay. You were staring at nothing." Dean clears his throat and looks at anything but Sam.
"I'm gonna lay down" Dean says laying back down in the bed.
~
Dean and Sam are in the middle of a hunt. Dean is burning bones of a ghost while Sam is getting his ass kicked.
"Dean!" Sam calls out to his brother "Something isn't right" He says while still being tossed around.
"I burned the bones! There has to be something else." Dean calls attention to himself and is now also being thrown around.
You grab an old doll and burn it, the thumping and grunts stop upstairs. You brace yourself for seeing the boys, you haven't seen them in 6 years and you just saved their ass.
"What happened?" You heard Sam ask. You smile to yourself and bite your lip.
"The doll!" You yell up "The doll had some of the girls hair. Creepy right?" You joke. You hear a silence and then footsteps running down the stairs.
"Y/n" Sam says with a wide smile on his face, he pulls you in for a tight hug.
"Sam" You struggle "Can't breath" He lets go of you and stares at your face.
"Wow" He chuckles
"Hi Dean" You smile at him, he just looks at you wide eyed, his mouth is open like he's going to say something but he doesn't.
"You look you've seen a ghost" You tease.
"W-what happened to you? Where were you? You're so skinny, you- are you okay?" he asks a bunch of questions.
"Why don't we go back to a motel and I'll explain everything."
Dean drives back, no one says anything. The air is thick and Dean is the most tense. Dean pulls into the parking lot, getting out he opens your door.
"So explain. Everything." Dean says walking into the motel you are closely behind.
"Well" You say sitting on the bed. "I joined the Army" you put your hand up to stop them from saying anything "Before you say anything, I joined because I wanted to and I thought it would be the right thing for me to do, at that time. I didn't want to say anything before I left because I thought you boys would tease me about it, or try to stop me. Or both" You chuckle. "I learned a lot there, it was a good idea for me to go, but I'm home now."
Dean and Sam just look at each other not knowing what to say. Dean wants to say everything to you, how he felt, how mad he was, how happy he is that you're back, how much he loves you. He can't though. You left him for 6 years and never even told him why or where you were. There's no way you felt the same way about him. So he thought.
"Well, we're happy you're back" Sam pats your shoulder "Are you hungry?"
"Yes! You have no idea" You chuckle. You smile at Dean who still hasn't said anything. "I'm sorry. I should've said something." He looks down at the ground. You give Sam a look and he heads out to get food.
"Dean" You say softly stepping towards him. "I'm sorry."
"You never even wrote a letter, or at least let Bobby tell us. Why?"
"I didn't want you to worry, or find me."
"6 years, Y/n." Dean shakes his head.
"I needed to go."
"And I needed you here!" He shouts at you, your heart hurts. He is right you could've written a letter at least. Dean grabs the door handle. You grab his arm.
"Dean, wait!" He turns around and crashes his lips on yours. You gasp in surprise but kiss back. He holds your head close to his, he pulls back and rests his forehead on yours, his breathing picked up.
"I'm sorry." He says walking out the door.
"Dean!" You call out but he leaves. You stand in the doorway watching him leave. You feel a tear on your cheek. You don't know if he'll be back. You hope he comes back, the whole 6 years you could'nt get him off your mind. He was all you thought about, he was your motivation to come back home, he can't just leave you now.
"I'm sorry." You say softly watching his car drive off.
***
Hope you enjoyed it!
#dean x you#Dean winchester#dean winchester fanfiction#Dean Winchester gif#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural dean#Dean x reader
139 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ummm hiii :3 reko is a trans woman #real #true
Reko always sorta felt. Not like a boy. Just didn’t really have the words for it … felt vaguely off most of her childhood. Esp with being forced into the music industry, she was just. Not having fun
then Alice came out as trans and she was like woah! You can do that! Started looking into things… woah! Transgender!
she first like… came out to the world when she started samurai yaiba with alice! Hence the costume’s colors. She sorta… felt like she had to look feminine to . “Prove” she was trans… but that soon wore off because Ursheen Stronghold (and Alice) were like ermmm you don’t have to be super gender conforming if you wan t to…and she was like ohh holy shit i don’t….
well look at her. She/he/it. She’s got insane gender. Gnc as hell trust me.
she originally wasn’t gonna medically transition bc Alice was complaining about the bad parts very dramatically and also she was.scaaared. but she realized. She could have a voice that was truly hers. One that sounds like her. One that her father didn’t profit off of for years. So she went on E and when she started sounding different she was like HOLY FUCK….. cause you know when you’ve just been tolerating something and suddenly.you have what you’ve actually wanted all this time… she was so happy.
well after Alice’s arrest she kind of.forgot to take her hrt sometimes bc she was VERY depressed…but regardless she’s been on estrogen for 3 years now and yippie !! She’s gender as hell. Alice taught her how to do makeup in Yaiba era and ursheen and stronghold were very encouraging the whole time . And now her band skullnutz is entirely trans people and she is so many people’s queer awakening. (Points at jou) and also just,, Reko rediscovering masculinity through femininity is . So much to me. Now that she’s comfortable in her gender as a woman she can play around a lot more,, be butch as all hell and still feel like a woman. Anyway did you know i love her
also I think. Naoreko are severely t4t.
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
Depressed emo bat boy man being awkward and soft is best bat boy man 🦇❤️
Bruce meets Clark for the first time when the reporter comes to Gotham for a piece in the daily planet. When he sees the intense blue of Clark’s eyes and his blindingly charming smile he almost has an anxiety attack from how very attractive his is. Bruce makes something of an idiot of himself, stumbling over a greeting when he takes in the size of muscles that build the man in front of him. In fact he stumbles through the interview in its entirety, the blush on his face reaching down to his chest and shoulders with how much he’s trying not to stare at Clark’s absolutely obscene throat. By the end he’s nearly worn himself out, which is probably why he idiotically asks Clark out to dinner with him. Which ended up being the best decision he’s made, what with how Clark blushed before agreeing.
After months of dating Clark, Bruce meets Superman and immediately knows it’s Clark. (honestly what person throws on glasses and hopes no one with recognize them when they’re only the strongest being on earth???) He’s waiting patiently for Clark, suit in hand, when he returns from his shower. He just stares at Clark who’s gone pale as paper, eyes on the giant S, before Bruce reaches behind him to throw his cowl at him. Clark stares at it for minutes gaping like a fish and then his mother hen takes over and it’s all Bruce can do to try to get his himbo boyfriend off of him telling him he’s fine and he’s not hurt. Because of course Clark wouldn’t care so much that he’s Batman, but that he might be hurt.
Their first time is messy and Bruce feels awkward, like he doesn’t know what he should be doing with his limbs. Also because Clark is built like a greek god. Clark chuckles and is sweet, red faced and all. When he pushes inside, Bruce gets so tense he worries he’s hurt him when a long, low, whimper fills his ears. When Clark looks down at Bruce his eyes are wet and his eyebrows are drawn up. He’s as vulnerable as he’s ever seen the young caped crusader. Shaking hands reach up to Clark’s face, stopping before they make contact, and then just a wrecked whisper of, “please, I-” and he’s gone.
Bruce is surprised at how vocal he is and his face feels on fire because he’s not able to stop it. His voice betrays him over and over and it’s so worth it. “Harder” he begs. And it’s worth the growl that demand tears from Clark’s throat, worth the new brutal pace he’s being inflicted with. He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for anymore but Clark’s hands are like iron chains where they hold him, light purple lighting up his skin in the shape of hands and kisses. Clark is pushing words into his hair, sweet nothings and promises Bruce thinks he’ll never be able to keep but god be damned if he doesn’t try.
He won’t admit it but the way that Clark’s body almost envelopes his is what does him in. The sheer power behind those hands is all it takes. Knees pinned up by his ears he cries as he’s worked through his climax, tears burning tracks down the side of his face. He’s absolutely wrecked, and so is Clark when he comes. Clark let’s out a guttural sound, straight from his chest and it vibrates against Bruce’s limp body below. His face blooms redder if possible at the feeling of being filled. Clark is groaning, whining even as he wraps arms around the smaller man and pulling him close, shaking and shivering. It takes longer than it should for Bruce to realize Clark is still coming, and the thought alone makes him whimper against his strong chest. He can feel it. It’s hot and his stomach feels full to burst.
“I’m so sorry Bruce, I should have warned you about that… it’s-”
“—It’s fine.”
“—embarrassing and I get if you don’t want me to- wait what?”
“I said it’s fine. Now shut it Kansas.”
“…Holy cow…”
“……..”
“You think it’s hot, don’t you..”
“Goodnight, Clark.”
#depressed emo bat boy man#essentially; smut#battinson#superbattinson#the batman 2022#bruce wayne#superman#Clark Kent#clark x bruce#bruce x clark#superbat
437 notes
·
View notes
Text
Twst Actor Au (Behind the scenes) #3
Book 7 (This Yuu is mixed between game Yuu and my Yuu, nicknamed Actress)
Chapter 1
Sebek had to hype himself up to yell without messing up his lines and hurting his throat.
Silver pretended to be asleep standing up when Lilia asked why he didn't wake him up.
Rook sat down on Leona.
"From my ability to hack into everyone's search history. Crowley was been looking up tits." (The birds called tits)
Sebek purposely tried to scare the first years by his booming voice. Worked on two of them.
Lilia used the legendary weapon as a walking cane and held his back.
There's now a picture of Ace and Deuce cuddling with Grim in between them.
Chapter 2
Sebek was actually stuffing his face for the scene.
"How does it feel to be 700 years old, Lilia?" Not bad actually.
"Listen to your depressed big brother, everyone. Don't doxx people unless they are a part of cancel culture." -Idia
"Is this the part where we hold Lilia upside-down as he chugs the berry juice?"
Actress looked over to see the first years carrying Sebek after he rejected the group scene.
The flames disappear to reveal Idia. "Huh?! How did I get here?!"
Actress was the first person to see Overblot Malleus and all you heard in the background is "holy shit... I'll take you on." (In fight, right?)
Overblot Malleus was laughing when his horn fell off and gestured towards it to yell fuck.
"Him (Malleus) holding me while humming helped with making it less creepy for me. However, I was still scared."
Silver and Sebek were talking during a break when Actress ran pass by them while carrying Lilia as Overblot Malleus chased them.
Before Malleus had to remove his makeup and costume, the first years asked to take a picture of them "fighting" Overblot Malleus. (Fan favorite)
Chapter 3
Actress is interacting with a plush of Grim and a model of Mickey. This is her job.
Someone did place a Roomba on Idia's face and asked Ortho to voice it.
Plays Portals 2 audio of the thing yelling "SPAAACE!"
"Great googly moogly, everything has gone to shit." -Mr. Shroud at the expanding barrier.
It was Mr. Shroud's idea to crawl out from under the table.
"Because you're the goodest of boys." -Mrs. Shroud at the Cerberus gear.
The sound from Silver when plush Grim fell from between him and Actress, she needed some time to herself stop giggling.
Actress ad-libbed the "I don't know, I'll ask my stomach when it catches up."
The flames disappear to reveal Overblot Malleus petting plush Grim.
Actress and Sebek hugged and cried together in the forest.
The actors playing the soldiers kept on laughing because of the sounds they had to make.
42 notes
·
View notes
Text
Music Boy - Eddie M.
Summary:After multiple failed dates and relationships you’ve given up dating all together until you bump into a cute metalhead at the music store you frequent who also happens to be the towns outcast.
Warnings: fluff, Eddie and reader being nervous and awkward, Eddie being Eddie
Characters: fem!reader, Robin Buckley, Eddie Munson.
FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED!!
You slide your lunch tray across the wooden table and sit down with your chin in your fist. "Listen, your dating life isn't that awful, you'll meet someone y/n." Robin says her mouth moving at 60 miles per second as she slides in next to you. Your dating life has been the hot subject since second period, but it's not the enchanted Disney movie you'd expected it to be. In fact, it's the entire opposite
You murmur, poking at the mystery meat on your lunch tray, "I don't know Robin, maybe I'm destined to be alone forever." Every date or relationship you've ever been in has been awful; the people were either trying to get in your pants or were just outright douches. You've experienced everything Hawkins has to offer and you don't want to live some depressing life with two kids, a husband you don't even love, and a house on the end of a cul de sac, “Listen that’s a bunch of bull and you know it I mean there’s nothing wrong with not being in a relationship.”
“Easy for you to say you're dating Vicky,” Robin shrugs her shoulders while grinning apprehensively. As she places your fork on the lunch plate, you roll your eyes at her in a huff. “You'll still find someone, so don't worry,” okay, yes. When it came to discussing your love life, Robin was constantly upbeat, and you were appreciative of her positivity since it gave you a lot more confidence in your ability to meet someone.
Before the conversation continued the bell rung signaling everyone to move on to their next class “so what are you doing after school” Robin gets up slinging her bag over her shoulder “just the usual wallowing in my own sadness and self pity” you shrug your shoulders with a sarcastic grin, Robin tilts her head at you and groans in response “fine, fine I’m stopping at the music store to get a few things then heading home” you and Robin begin to exit the cafeteria, the stench of sour milk and cheap imitation meat leaving your noses “sounds like a y/l/n afternoon to me.”
Robin sends you a smile and a wave before heading into class and you into yours, you take your seat at the back of the classroom slouching into your chair and fiddling with your pencil drowning out whatever bullshit the teacher is spewing out.
———
You enter the small music store in downtown Hawkins, opening the door as the bell above it chimes, and the aroma of the store and the tranquil music fill your senses giving you serotonin, You typically stop by whenever a new album by your favorite band is released or just to browse what they have in stock and pick what you like. The music store was moderately busy, with only a dozen or so people hanging around, mostly customers trying to get their hands on anything by Madonna, Bowie, and The Beatles.
However, you typically find yourself exploring the back of the store where all the vinyl and tapes from metal/rock bands lie mostly untouched. Your fingers skim through each row gently as your mind is entirely focused on finding something you fancy; as a result, you hardly notice anyone approaching you until the loud sound of squeaking shoes startles you out of your reverie, "Woah, holy shit, didn't mean to scare you." A tall boy with long hair and tattoos all covering his arms appeared in front of you. "No, no, you're okay." You talked softly, taking in more of his little features, like the maroon vest he was wearing with his name sewn into the top corner and pins of metal bands scattered on the fabric also the tag gun tight in his ring clad hand.
You look away from his hand and toward his eyes to see that he is still staring at you in shock. "I'm sorry I just didn't expect to see anyone back here well, there is the usual old head but I've never seen you here," he smirks as he approaches you while pulling vinyls from the stack tagging them. “Can’t say that I’ve seen you here either, usually it’s Otis manning the register.”
He peeks at you and your intent demeanor as you continue to flip through the rows of vinyls, "Yeah I'm new and Otis is out today I'm surprised he trusts me to take care of things by myself," he says with a huff as he tags the scarcely touched records. You pick out a Led Zeppelin album and chuckle to yourself, "That's a nice one, I have it on tape back at my house." You look up to find that he is now paying close attention to you, "Oh yeah? Which Led Zeppelin song is your favorite?”
You grin broadly as you rock the record back and forth, "wow, you're really putting me on the spot right now." Eddie leans against the shelf, deep in thought, "can't say that I have a favorite; I like a lot of their songs, but a favorite very hard." His mouth widens into a toothy grin as you return the smile, his smile lines becoming more obvious as his eyes crinkle slightly, "oh boooo cmon, really you don’t have a favorite?” You mock Eddie while tilting your head back sarcastically.
You both share a genuine laugh it soon dying down as you both get lost in each other’s eyes, You can't recall the last time you actually connected with a guy like this; typically, guys talk about themselves and the girls they want to bone (you, sadly, being one of them), but this brief interaction you had with him was one of the most sincere interactions you've had thus far, despite the fact that you didn't know him all that well.
Eddie soon blinks out of the trance shaking his head in embarrassment “I’m uhh, I’m Eddie by the way” he eagerly extends his hand for a handshake. “yeah I know it’s embroidered into your vest there” you point at the white stitched name on the vest “oh yeah right it is my bad” he bashfully raises his hand to the back of his neck rubbing it while avoiding eye contact with you.
You fumble around with the record in your hand and say, "I'm y/n," as Eddie raises an eyebrow and smiles slightly. "You go to Hawkins high right? Friends with Robin Buckley?” "Yes I do, and uhh yeah I'm friends with Robin she's basically my ride or die," you confess. "I'm not like a creep or anything like that we have a mutual friend group outside of school and one of the guys we're friends with is in my party," Eddie says, a tiny nervous blush forming on his cheeks.
“Your..party?” Your brows furrow at him, "oh! Yeah, I play Dungeons & Dragons with my friends; it's kind of like a fantasy game," Eddie says, rambling on about the foundations of his game and how he serves as their dungeon master.
“I’m surprised you’re even talking to me with me being the town ‘freak’ and all” he air quotes around freak as he rolls his eyes “I’ve heard your name through the halls and your tittle of freak devil worshipper but I’ve never believed it since I didn’t even know you at the time” Eddie gives you a sincere smile; he likes knowing that at least one person outside of his friend group doesn't see him as the terrible things people call him, whether it's to his face or through the halls.
You never agreed with what everyone called Eddie you’ve seen him around school but it was mostly for a split second none the more you always thought he was just misunderstood I mean if Robin knows him then he can’t be a terrible person.
You and Eddie chat some more, talking about music, school, just anything, standing in this music store talking to Eddie has been better than any date that you’ve been on, he was funny, charming, and passionate about the things he love “well I don’t wanna hold you up any longer so how about I ring that up for you and you can be on your way” He gestures to the record in your hands, and you look down surprised you're still holding it because you've been completely distracted by him “oh uhh yeah sure” you and Eddie walk towards the front of the store as he makes his way behind the counter.
You take out your wallet and give him the cash, "Oh, and keep the change," you say with the same grin that he had before. You're not sure what made you so anxious, but something about him made your heart beat quicker and your palms all sweaty. Eddie delivers you the record in a bag, and you shyly wave at him as you head out the door, "Hey, wait up!" You're caught off guard as Eddie leaps over the countertop and approaches you, "I know we just met and you can absolutely shoot me down, but I was umm wondering if you'd want to maybe go on a date?"
In anticipation of your response, Eddie crosses his arms over his body while fidgeting with the hem of his vest. Maybe this was your opportunity to finally have a successful date and possibly even develop a genuine relationship. As you continue to be silent, Eddie becomes anxious, "If you don't want to, that's great. I'm not trying to pressure you into anything; I just thought you were pretty and we like the same music." Eddie begins to ramble fiddling with his rings, his shyness making you smile “yes Eddie I would like to go on a date with you” Eddie stops his rambling as his eyes meet yours.
“Wait, really?” His eyes beam with a big smile on his face “oh shit uhh let me give you my number” He pats himself down in an effort to locate his notepad, then gestures towards the rear room “g’me one second I think I left it in the back” after that he darts towards the back which you assumed was Otis’ office and the break room, his head pops back out as he jogs towards you his loose curls bouncing as he walks.
He takes out a pen from his back pocket and writes down his number before handing you the piece of paper “here, uhh give me a call when you want no pressure of course and we can talk about that date” his excitement warms your heart, It's not often that a guy is this excited to go on a date with you, you admired his excitement so maybe this time will be different. “yeah I’ll definitely call you don’t worry” you pocket the piece of paper as you fiddle with the bag in your hand.
You glance up to find Eddie still grinning at you with his huge silly grin still covering his cute face. He shakes his head once he notices that he’s staring "Oh yeah, uhh, I'll see you later. Maybe at school or here again. Hopefully soon." You look down making eye contact with him through your eyelashes “don’t worry you’ll see me again Eddie” he smiles at that piece of information “Great, bye y/n.”
He gives you an open mouthed smile as he fiddles with the pen in his hand, you walk backwards towards the door with a wave before turning around and walking home. As you were leaving, though, you caught a glimpse of Eddie pumping his fist in the air in celebration , which made you giggle.
You've never made a guy as nervous as Eddie was, and it was cute. As you walk the remaining distance home, all you can think about is Eddie—when you'll talk to him again, whether he'll pick up the phone when you call, and so many other things. But the main thing was his smile—that big idiotic smile he mostly kept on his face the entire time.
———
You plop down on your bed kicking your feet in the air as you hold the phone up to your ear “Wait so you genuinely like this guy?” Robins muffled voice speaks through the receiver “well I don’t know if I like like him I just think he’s cute and kind and cute..” you trail off as your overly broad smile causes the apples of your cheeks to ache. “you already said cute y/n and you met him in the music store?” Robin shared the same amount of enthusiasm as you did “yeah! And he actually has good taste in music” you shift into your side playing with the hem of your shirt.
Robin ooo’s “so who is this cute, kind guy with good music taste” She pry’s making you smile even harder which you didn’t even know was remotely possible “his name is Eddie, you might know him he said you guys had a mutual friend group” You wind the phone line around your finger, “wait, Eddie as in Eddie Munson!” Robin squeals making you chuckle, you felt like a 14 year old girl talking about her crush to her friends at a sleep over “yeah he’s actually really sweet” you coo making Robin fake gag “well he seems kind of dorky and weird to me plus he always smells like cigarettes” you scoff and smack your lips “yeah whatever Rob” you chuckle.
You and Robin talk for another 20 minutes before she calls it a night and goes to bed. You’re sat on your bed reading a book, your eyes drift from the pages and to the little piece of folded paper, you grab it opening it to see Eddie’s phone number written in a messy and hurriedly manner a skull with heart eyes scribbled next to the digits, you peak at the clock it being 10pm you contemplated calling him afraid he might be asleep and you’ll be on the phone with an angry and sleepy Eddie.
The notion fumbles about in your head for another ten second before you pick up the phone and dial the number, the phone rings as you grow more anxious with each buzz it goes of for a while before you begin to feel defeated and give up until the phone stops ringing “Munson residence, how may I help you.” His voice is deep and raspy when he speaks into the receiver causing you to remain speechless “hello?” You snap out of it stumbling to speak. “Oh, uh hey Eddie it’s me y/n from the music store” your voice was gentle and nervous.
“Oh y/n hey!” You hear shuffling on the other side of the line causing your eyebrow to quirk up. “Wasn’t expecting you to call tonight” you can feel his smile through the phone which causes you to smile aswell “yeah I didn’t wanna seem desperate but I found the courage to call so here I am” you say, and he offers you a laugh in return.
You guys continue to talk throughout the night as it gets later and later. The conversation switched between various topics such as music, random stories from your childhoods, and you even learned that he's in a band, which you think is cool. He plays you a little bit of something he’s been working on before you eventually drift off to sleep with the phone steady on your pillow. Eddie soon notices the light snores and smiles to himself.
Before getting comfy in bed, he stretches his body, the noises of muted movement can be heard from your side of the line
He murmurs softly, "Goodnight sweetheart," before putting the phone on his bed and smiling as he closes his eyes letting the peacefulness of sleep soon consume him.
#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x female reader#stranger things#stranger things fic#Eddie Munson x f!reader#eddie munson x reader#stranger things x reader#female!reader#eddie munson fic
199 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Aid: Chapter 7- Sicko Fantasies and Haunting Memories (NSFW)
(Buckle the fuck up, you are now aboard the Hot Mess Express🚂)
CWs & TWs (not in order): graphic & violent non-con flashback (end of chapter and between the red *****—not to be confused with the black *****—you can read around it without missing any vital details!) including use of a knife and gun and gross details of bodily fluids (it’s a bad time, skip over it if your sensitive to nastiness, don’t say I didn’t warn you—like for real it’s gross), explicit language, insults & name calling*, Whumpee called “boy” even though he’s 24, talk of bodily functions (pee habits and general grooming after months of being deprived of toiletries and self care), suicidal ideation and past suicide attempts/details of past self harm practices (asphyxiation), recollection of being forcibly restrained to bed to prevent further self harm, illicit drug use (❄️&🧊) mixed with alcohol (Whumper), Whumpee wishing gruesome death upon Whumper (but like, good for him, Whumper deserves it), aftermath of starvation and prolonged isolation, undressing and inspecting wounds, prescription drug dependency (Whumpee), depressing self reflections, literal Caretaker turned Whumpee, asshole/bully/sadistic/taunting/creepy/intimate/alcoholic/mentally and physically abusive Whumper (Wyatt Sullivan is his own TW, he’s literally the worst), long-term captivity, slavefic/ institutionalized slavery AU, within the post-apocalyptic(ish) setting AU—mentions of: ongoing war & mass death, evacuations, terrorism and treason, cannibalism, infectious diseases (specifically cannibals with infectious diseases), war factions, extremist Regime, forced labor camps, food scarcity, class division, looting, and hostile takeovers
*We are starting strong with insults here, if this is a sensitive topic or squick for you, you’ll have a horrible time & this ain’t for you dawg, respectfully.
You’ve been adequately warned, proceed with caution :)
Word count: 5,669
<-Previous | Masterlist | Next->
Hey you, yeah YOU!
If you’re still here after that novel of CWs, hi hello :) Holy shit this chapter took on a mind of its own and is a little all over the place! Besides the lengthy list of warnings, there’s also some more world building in here—like a lot more. You probably didn’t have questions, but don’t worry, I gave you the answers you didn’t know you needed anyway! I hope it fits and makes sense, idk what I’m doing, I think my brain is actively rotting out of my skull at this point. If you like insane bullshit, this is for you, and if you don’t, sorry buddy! I'm still sitting on a fatass chapter that comes after this one, but I need to give myself a break after this steamy mess right here. Expect the usual processing time of a month and a half.
Xoxo, Gen
Fuck ass. Shithead. Cock warmer—of all the overused insults his Master chucked at him, The Aid kept a particular fondness for pampered pet.
An offense it was intended to be, yes, but instead of bitter resentment, the gibe strangely restored a sense of lost dignity and sounded comparatively childish against the others. Although, truth be told, most of the snarky nicknames fell flat and lost their zest at this point, and he would’ve appreciated some effort from Sullivan to come up with more creative insults to hurl at him.
His Master made a special sport of provoking him; ergo, he figured the man would at least flaunt some star players now and again.
Nothing got older quicker than a joke worn thin.
But wait, what did the brute call him earlier—lopsie lip? He usually threw up his mental defenses and rolled his eyes when someone made cheap one-liners about his mouth (what could be said that he hadn’t heard a hundred times over?) Still, somehow, Wyatt Sullivan had a real knack for mocking his appearances (his height was another frequently abused topic) and a crafty way of singling out his assumed insecurity. The mockeries weren’t knee-slappers by any stretch of the imagination and came across as equally lame and insensitive Boomer jokes; even so, he’d gladly take these low-hanging digs with open arms over the other vile, squirm-worthy remarks Sullivan berated him with any day—or worse.
Better a poor shit taking the brunt of crude taunts than a poor shit taking the brunt of a boot to the ribs.
Pampered pet—it’s fitting, goes well with his staple stand-in name, Mutt, and even has a certain ring to it, and certainly nicer than cum bucket —yuck (he hated that one).
Pampered was right; he couldn’t stand being dirty and unkempt; indeed, his Madame never condoned sloppy looks and anything less than perfect. She’d be rolling in her grave right now if she saw the sunken state of affairs and how piss poor of a job her son was doing as appointed keeper of her precious house boy.
But oh, how far the mighty have fallen.
Long were the days of his dedication to hours a week of meticulous primping and preening and how he missed those sacred moments.
Since he awoke above ground, he didn’t have the energy or sheer willpower to accomplish anything more than a couple of weak passes with a toothbrush and a few splashes of lukewarm water on his face and called it a day. But now—poor hygiene be damned—a garden of Earthly man-made delights beckoned him.
He studied his previously revoked collection of personal care products next to the first aid caddy on the bathroom counter before him. Here sat everything his Master denied him for months; he bereaved their absences like a lost loved one—no, scratch that, he never missed a person more than a good hand cream and microdermabrasion exfoliant.
In another life, he was always a star patient when it came to oral hygiene—he sported the Colgate smile—so being deprived of his one true love, his toothbrush, during his solitary confinement was arguably worse than having to shit in a litter box next to his bed.
He didn’t know what disturbed him more, the fact that he looked like a freshly dead Jack Skellington or that he now had plaque buildup, a few missing teeth (curtsey of Sullivan’s fists), and probably a couple of cavities.
A new toothbrush, tube of toothpaste, and floss picks were no dentist or oral surgeon, but they were a good start toward redemption.
This is as good as he’d get; best make do with what he got and ignore the rest. Maybe he can’t fill a cavity but can scrub off filth. He commonly recited, ‘It’s better to focus on easily fixable things. There’s an irreplaceable level of satisfaction in having attainable goals.’
He scanned the other objects in front of him, taking special note of the lip scrub and lip balm he hoped would mend his cracked and chapped lips, the tub of extra-extra hydrating hyaluronic acid body lotion tasked with soothing his bone-dry, itchy skin, comb and tweezers to tame invasive hairs, cotton swabs to clean out all the gunk in his ears (he was sure he had more than enough ear wax to fill a tea light candle); blemish control face wash, acne cream, toner, and light-weight moisturizer to get his breakout under control; and nail clippers and file to declaw himself.
He glanced at his fingers and toes.
They weren’t as bad as expected—well, despite his calluses, hang nails, and overgrown cuticles that is. At least he didn't have Althetes' foot or start sprouting weird basement mold between the toes.
Sweet Christ Almighty, the filthy and ungodly things he’d do for a good mani-pedi and facial right now.
If Sullivan weren’t such a fucking sadist with a raging hard-on for making him bleed and scream, he’d consider proposing an exchange of sex acts for a full-package spa day. The sex—he told himself—he could grit his teeth through and forcibly tolerate with minimal tears; it was the rest that canceled out any ounce of enjoyment or relaxation he’d potentially get.
No facial was that good.
His former (glorious) self was never a nail-biter or finger-picker, but his time in isolation lent a hand towards picking up some bad habits to occupy his mind in hopes of preventing him from going mad with boredom (spoiler: it didn’t work).
He picked and picked, and sometimes even nibbled, around his hang nails until he drew blood. He didn’t delight in chewing bits of dead skin peeled off in strings around his fingers, but the motion of eating something—even if deduced to bits of himself—helped drown out the hunger pains and sounds of his empty belly gurgling. He secretly wished Sullivan would catch him in the act of self-cannibalizing himself, realize just how far pushed to insanity he was, and take enough pity on him to release him of his sentence.
It was all nothing more than a stupid fool’s hope; the evil sonovabitch never even felt a glint of remorse.
His eyes scanned the razor and shaving cream, almost suspicious of their presence. Shaving himself was daunting and ostensibly impossible with one shaky hand.
But hey, at least Wyatt trusted with a sharp object; this was a step up.
How long had it been since he properly cleaned himself up and given himself a good shave? Months?
The razor looked new. Sullivan must have given him a fresh one. And if his Master went through the backbreaking effort of changing a razor head, that meant he wanted—no, was practically ordering—him to revive what parts he could that resembled his ci-devant good looks…good looks—was he ever even good looking before all this? He couldn’t tell; he was horrible with those types of things. He knew he wasn’t ugly but also wasn’t a looker, probably landed smack-dab in the middle. Perhaps his attraction level wasn’t for him to decide. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder or some shit. Or was that just some junk passed around by those unfortunate souls not blessed with Holly Wood looks?
But now he knew he looked like hell, and the amount of work he needed to do on himself was overwhelming.
It was too much.
How well he’d be able to groom himself with one hand would no doubt leave much to be desired and undoubtedly felt like a set-up for sure failure, but the thought of Sullivan having to pick up where he left off and lather him up in lotion and clip his toenails made his blood run cold and more nervous than a puffer fish in a room full of balloons.
He couldn’t let those big, rough, creepy-ass hands that caused nothing but pain touch him any more than they already had. It felt like he and Sullivan would be breaking an unspoken rule if they made any skin-to-skin contact outside of anything besides the ogre inflicting harm on him. His Master’s hands were torture devices of their own; feeling them on him in any other capacity felt wrong, like a breach of contract.
As much as he refused to believe it, he knew deep down he was touch-starved, and part of him was screaming for any ounce of physical affection. He already leaned a little too far into Dr. Paul’s touch and was damn near smitten from the warm spark of soothing comfort that came from a gentle cup of his cheek; if he did the same with Sullivan, he’d never forgive himself, and his Master definitely wouldn’t let it happen without comment.
He already heard him now—“Yeah, ya like that, don’t ya, boy? Look at ya melting into me like the little needy slut ya are. I got somethin’ else real special for ya that’ll get ya howlin’ an’ really tickle up ya’r insides.”
Even an innocent touch would lead to something more; of course, it would; this was Wyatt fucking Sullivan he was thinking about.
He shivered.
Suddenly, he was all too aware of his very full bladder.
He sighed, then hobbled over to the toilet.
These days he had to piss sitting down; circumstance didn’t grant much flexibility there. The stand-up method was unsuitable for those with one functioning leg and one usable arm; if he dared test his limits, it would likely result in him missing the bowl entirely or ungracefully falling over midstream. He told himself that he didn’t mind popping a squat; it erased the worry of not shaking his pee-pole enough and leaking drops on the rim, or worse—in his underwear. (‘Pay no mind to the very real fear of your peen accidentally sliding against the cold inside of the toilet bowl; no, we don’t have room for such worries.’) Wringing his dick out like a washcloth was far more undignifying than just shoving it between his legs and taking his time anyway—that’s what he told himself, what he made himself believe.
But he deserved that, didn’t he—small comforting lies in whatever form he found them?
Thankfully, the post-catheter sting Dr. Paul warned him of went away after the first day, but his urine persisted in being a dark brownish orange (‘light umber, I think that’s called’) that reeked a pungent odor, evoking him to scrunch his nose in sour disgust every time. He drank more than enough liquids now, so it couldn’t be from dehydration—could it? That left him to conclude it must be yet another unpleasant side-effect from his cocktail of pharmaceuticals.
Pharmaceuticals—thank the marvels of modern science for those. However, what he really craved was a fat joint of Blueberry Kush.
How long ago did he pop that palmful of pills? He contemplated with a sense of impatience, ‘couldn’t be more than 30 minutes ago…’
The Klonopin typically took about an hour and a half to two to kick in. And once it did, he was down for the count, blissfully obliterated until evening, when he would pop an Ambien to sail him through the night.
Rinse and repeat day after day, after day until—well, he didn’t know yet.
And he preferred to remain deliriously unaware.
It was better this way.
Hell, it was the only thing that made his life at all bearable—to be drugged out of his mind, not to be awake, not to think, not to feel his body, to play dead until one fateful day, his Master would finally strike a killing blow.
The matter of if Sullivan could wasn’t in question—they both knew the older man could kill him as effortlessly as a house fly stuck buzzing against a windowsill—it was more of a matter of when.
The Aid tried to carry out the deed of snuffing himself out a few times—okay, more than a few times. He lost count of his botched suicide attempts, but that’s all they were, half-assed “attempts”—a courteous word his actions didn’t quite live up to. What he carried out fell more in line with ideation.
In the basement torture den, he’d wrap the chain around his neck with minimal pressure, just enough to feel a light constriction—nothing more, nothing less—and let the fantasy of floating away into nihility mollify him as he mewled and cried himself to sleep like a squalling infant. Sullivan caught him in this self-soothing ritualistic act once before and had the audacity to act scandalized by what he witnessed as if he didn’t knowingly single-handedly push The Aid to the brink of suicide. After the initial surprise of what he walked in on wore off, Sullivan proceeded to laugh at the miserable little thing at his feet and hurl some colorful beratement at him (finally a personalized insult with a bit more spice, although the timing couldn’t be worse) as the boy bawled his eyes out and crumpled into a shaky ball.
The Aid received an extra beating for his lack of self-respect and composure; Sullivan took offense to The Aid’s actions and informed him that he wasn’t allowed to off himself.
After his Master scolded him, he made him swear he wouldn’t “pull any more weakling shit ever again” and ordered him to abstain from any method of self-harm—Wyatt liked being the only one permitted to hurt him.
The ogre’s cruelties were boundless, but at least the monster finally pitied him enough to find it in his cold, dead heart to allow him the privilege of washing himself up and gave him a change of clothes and a hot meal afterward—sometimes being a mess and pushed to your edge bought rewards.
After all was said and done, he was restrained, his limbs tied to the four corners of the blood-stained mattress so he couldn’t move—for a week—until Sullivan deemed him no longer a threat to himself (the irony of it all did not escape him).
That was the last time he meddled with ending it all. He couldn’t do it, not really—not entirely, no matter how much he wished he could. The only thing that scared him more than Wyatt Sullivan was the great unknown of the other side and being devoured by eternal darkness.
A healthy fear of death was the only thing keeping him alive at this point.
*****
He absently gazed out the window, taking in his perfect view from the side of the house that butted against rolling tan desert foothills.
They were the last house down a long winding street lined with multi-million dollar estate homes, each with a moneyshot view overlooking the Palm Springs valley. He knew better than to indulge in the crackpot fantasy of climbing over that brick retaining wall separating him and the rest of the world to scamper his way through the open desert that went on and on for miles.
He already tried that once.
He didn’t get far—‘Stupid stunt to pull when you have trackers embedded in your neck and spinal column.’
But what was out there?
His mind went wild.
Were there clans of Renegados, the lost people, those who didn’t belong to either cause or fell under contested jurisdictions, hiding deep in the rocky valleys or camping in the Little San Bernardino Mountains? There couldn’t be much of a food source besides snakes and scorpions with the occasional desert hare—not to mention the scarcity of a water source. He surmised Renegados were unlikely in this geography, but what about gangs of marauders? No, that was equally unlikely, as scavenger types preferred abandoned dense urban areas or heavily traveled routes, and they wouldn’t pay much mind to small desert towns or off-grid compounds. There wasn’t much left to plunder in visible sight, especially after the first couple of waves of looting from the mass exodus of some odd four million Los Angelenos alone fleeing the initial outbreaks.
The only people batshit crazy enough to tough it out in such a ragged landscape and unforgiving climate were bands of rebel freedom fighters, the Frondeurs, who opposed what was left of the U.S. Government and fought the rivaling extremist Regime which now controlled nearly half of the 50 states, all the meanwhile also culling the growing numbers of afflicted. It would either be the Frondeurs themselves or hordes of aforementioned afflicted—ravenous cannibals, anthrophages*, devouring their way through the rural areas in search of larger populations to gorge on. “People-eater Pox,” or PEP, was the name quickly given to the incurable disease because “idiopathic anthropophagite contagion” was too clinical and hard to pronounce.
Of course, edge lord teens, horror fanatics, and the everyday 4chan user clung to the pipe dream of a zombie invasion, but these fuckers were far from dead, which somehow made it all that much worse. Sure, they looked dead, but that’s where the physical similarities started and ended.
The afflicted broke out in rotten-smelling, oozing open sore rashes that turned into hardened tree bark-like patches, their skin dulled to a cadaverous blue-gray while the whites of their eyes turned red, and many lost their hair. The cherry on top was their maddening appetite for human flesh and heightened sense of smell and hearing. They were fast, hard to kill, and more animal than human—so he heard.
The Aid never saw an afflicted, not in real life, and he hoped he never would. If you saw one up close, you were two steps closer to being eaten alive or, worse—turning into one of them.
Or maybe instead of bands of rebel forces or diseased cannibals hiding in the desert, there were platoons of those rumored so-called “Envoys” deployed by the Regime—the Republic of Arcadia—to hunt down runaways, defectors, and Frondeurs since they needed every last body they could get. Envoys—he didn’t even know if they were real; he’d never seen one of those either. They were about as real as Santa Claus to him, but luckily, these didn’t look like something out of a Rob Zombie movie and want to eat his face off.
Would Envoys even be out this far west?
Not likely, not unless they now joined the hordes of afflicted. The Republic of Arcadia wouldn’t—couldn’t—needlessly sacrifice any Envoys coming this deep into U.S. territory, not after 11 years in a now stalemated war, not unless they were planning a final invasion.
If that were the case, they were fucked.
If the Envoys were close, that likely indicated the remainder of the U.S. was losing even more territory. Or maybe the government agreed to give up a parcel of idyllic Southern California and a couple of Pacific coast port cities in exchange for a plot of fertile land, unsoiled crop seeds, and healthy bodies to work the fields in a pedantic trade agreement. Lord knows there wasn’t much opportunity for farmland out here in the desert, and good, fertile land these days was worth more than gold, especially after the blights wiped out most of the agriculture industry, which subsequently led to PEP. He didn’t know much about the state of things anymore, and he knew fuck all when it came to the intricacies of a diseased-ravaged and war-torn world hanging on by an unraveling thread. The tidings of war constantly changed, and how anyone could keep up with the insanity of it all was beyond him.
Were they still safe here?
If they had to relocate, what would his Master do with him?
What if they ran out of food?
Would Wyatt eat him if it came down to it?
There was no way he’d let that happen (as if he had a say or any control if it came down to it); not like there was much left of him to eat. You’d get better “meat” off a wild prickly pear cactus than his bony ass. Cannibalism wasn’t just for the afflicted anymore; it wasn’t as uncommon as it used to be. Hard times called for drastic measures in certain parts of the world; not everyone still had access to unsullied food.
But a Sullivan couldn’t stoop so low, not even the worst one out of the bunch, not when the Sullivans were one of the only families left who still owned healthy livestock farms on the West Coast and supplied most of the edible meat and quickly rose to prominence and fortune because of it. Still, being left with the tender mercies of Wyatt didn’t feel promising in any capacity.
He knew he was “lucky” to be owned by the Sullivans and he should be thankful to live in a pocket of the country that remained relatively untouched from the chaos, that he was tucked away from the “real harm” and lived amongst members of high society who remained undeterred by the current state of things. He was a victim of conformity, forcibly resigned to a life he couldn’t get free from. Yet it became increasingly difficult to pretend life was a-okay when the reality of everything sunk in. Eleanor Sullivan was dead. He had five wonderful years with her, but now he suffered under the brutal hand of Wyatt. His life would have been much different if he wasn’t born with abilities. Rather than blossoming into the resident house pet and making his debut by playing mind games with the family matriarch, he’d likely be a plebeian surviving off rations and forced to work in labor camps in a resource sector. He didn’t know which life was worse—people’s minds weren’t made to deal with problems and what-if scenarios this large.
All he could do was accept it and keep trudging along.
This was the world he lived in now—a fucked up, disease-ridden world with only one-third of the population left. A world with a falling, corrupt government that re-institutionalized slavery in an attempt to fill in the labor gaps and keep the corporate overlords happy while the afflicted, marauders, Renegados, Frondeurs, and Envoys wreaked havoc below.
Despite it all and how real and terrible it was, he could only bring himself to worry about the immediate danger in front of him—Wyatt Sullivan.
Out of all his imagined scenarios of who or what was lurking deep in the desert, he hoped Envoys were staking out in these hills and eagerly waiting for the green light to launch an attack. He hoped they would rain down hell and raze this fucking house—tanks, missiles, gunfire and all. He hoped the afflicted would hear the emergency evacuation sirens go off, and every goddamn one of them in a 20+ mile radius would come running like someone rang the dinner bell. He hoped he got to witness them taking one look at Wyatt Sullivan, see the towering beast of a man he was, and look at him like an all-you-can-eat buffet and devour every last bloody fucking inch of him.
Escape.
He could do it then.
For real this time.
That would be the perfect chance to do it, during an emergency evacuation, get lost in the frenzy of it all as his devil incarnate Master got ripped to shreds by anthrophages—
He was getting ahead of himself.
A pipe dream, that’s all it was—a sicko fantasy of diseased cannibals and those terrorist-soldier Envoys and escaping Wyatt Sullivan once and for all. Who knew if he would even be able to ride the tide of freedom instead of being pulled under and drowned by it?
He didn’t finish his breakfast; he blamed the runaway people-eating scenarios on that.
He blinked a few times to shake himself out of his trance, then turned his attention back to himself.
*****
He cautiously unwrapped his shoulder and inspected the stab wound for the first time—appropriately disposing of the soiled bandages in a waste bin, of course (he wasn’t a slob-kabob).
The wound looked better than he expected, not that he doubted Dr. Paul’s work; it’d just been so long since he saw a non-infected wound and received proper medical care.
Five stitches held his skin together. Upon closer inspection, he noticed the skin fusing with a nice crusty scab filled between the gaps of flesh. To his surprise, the swelling mostly subsided and was hardly more than a bump.
He continued undressing his wounds, inspecting each one, surprised by the level of visible healing each time—he usually healed slowly and lacked the gift of quick recovery. Even his splinted wrist with screws tacking the bones together looked better than he imagined it would. The stitch line was smaller than expected, hardly longer than the one on his shoulder.
His eyes blurred over the revealed three-inch scar on his palm and the back of his right hand as he let his gaze maunder to the shower across from him. He couldn’t bring himself to look at this old scar. Unlike the other marks, the memory of this one haunted him with agonizing detail. He went to great lengths to conceal this one, mostly from himself, typically covering it up with a strip of old ace bandage to seal away the constant remainder of Wyatt Sullivan’s unending barbarity.
It was a strange and horrible memory, one he constantly pushed back into a lockbox buried deep in the recesses of his mind, a memory that came in heightened, broken fragments like cutout frames of sun burnt film. It didn't feel real; it seemed like a planted evocation from someone else, more similar to a blurb he would see in a premonition than an echo of his past. Instead of his mind, his body predominantly cataloged this event and all similar events thereafter; he disassociated through most of them in an act of atavistic self-preservation.
Most of his life became staticky blurs alongside indistinct garbles and muddied out-of-body experiences since.
*****
It was the first time.
The monster was hopped up on grade-A Bolivian coke cut with street crystal, riding extraordinarily high, and very drunk, on a weekend bender.
After chasing him around the property with a knife and gun in hand for what felt like hours, the monster cornered him in the home office located in the back of the house.
With that knife, the monster stabbed his hand into the wooden desk, pinning him bent over.
He scremed, hot tears flowed from his eyes, the pain shot through him like a lighting bolt.
The pain stunned him, he stood watching, unable to process what the monster did.
This couldn’t be happening, no, not to him.
Blood, so much of it.
It spurted out in matching pulses to his quickening heartbeat, the red liquid pooled on the desk and painted his arm in crimson.
The monster grabbed at his waist.
He yelled, thrashed, and fought with everything he had, buying as much time as possible and refusing the inevitable, but he didn’t have much steam after hours of running from and fighting off the lumbering beast.
The monster took his other hand and wrenched it behind his back so he couldn't move.
It felt like the monster was seconds away from snapping his arm. He shrieked.
The monster’s fingers hooked around his waistband and pulled down. Still, he fought—he threatened, he begged, he screamed—he screamed so fucking loud.
This couldn’t be happening, no, not to him.
The monster groped his bare ass, pinned his legs open, spread him apart, and forced something inside him.
He couldn't see, but by the feel, he knew it must be one of the monster’s fingers.
It didn’t hurt, but it felt wrong, out of place, intrusive.
He screamed more and pleaded for the beast to stop.
This couldn’t be happening, no, not to him. Not to him. Not to him.
The monster spoke, but he couldn’t hear the words.
The monster wasn't stopping.
The monster added another finger and wriggled it around, stretching him out.
He wailed and told the beast he’d do anything to make it stop.
This couldn’t be happening, no, not to him. Not to him. Not to him.
He pounded his head on the desk; that hurt, too, but he didn’t care.
He wanted it to stop; it had to stop.
He couldn’t take it.
He’d never done this before.
He never wanted to do this, not with the monster, not with anyone.
He kept headbutting the table until his vision was covered in red like his hand.
The monster grabbed his hair and pulled his head up, yelling more words he couldn’t hear.
The monster’s fingers crammed deeper inside him, his body froze.
He begged with everything he had for the beast to stop.
This couldn’t be happening, no, not to him. Not to him. Not to him.
Everything got fuzzy.
His mind went blank.
Something else was pushing inside him now.
Something bigger.
This wasn’t the monster’s fingers.
He wanted to scream, but his body seized, and he held his breath.
This time, it hurt; this time, it hurt really bad, more than any other kind of hurt he ever felt before.
This couldn’t be happening, no, not to him. Not to him. Not to him.
His mind went blank again.
He came back around.
The monster violently pushed into him, slamming his hips into the corner of the desk.
The monster sunk deep into him, deeper than he thought any monster part could possibly go.
He made noises he had never heard himself make before, noises he didn't recognize as his own.
The squealing and yawping coming from him sounded like a faraway dying animal.
He thought he knew what this was, but at the same time, he didn’t.
He couldn’t accept it.
This couldn’t be happening, no, not to him. Not to him. Not to him.
The monster moved around inside him, still pushing into him, still hurting him.
He weakly squirmed, still trying to plead with the monster.
The monster pushed down on his back to hold him still and plowed into him, making gross monster noises.
He knew what this was called.
But this wasn’t supposed to happen to him.
No, not him.
It couldn't be. But it was.
The beast liked hurting him, and the beast was good at it.
He screamed and cried, begging so loud his vocal cords gave out until his voice pruned to a dusty croak.
No. No. No. This wasn't supposed to happen to him.
Why was this happening to him?
What did he do to deserve this?
He breathed so fast, but it wasn't enough; he couldn't get enough air.
He thought he was dying.
Everything went dark.
He didn’t exist anymore, and the monster was gone.
But he came back.
He still felt the splitting intrusion inside him—the monster still jackhammering away without the faintest concern for the internal damage dealt.
He felt his insides ripping, it hurt so fucking bad, it felt like he was on fire.
He tried to scream, but his throat stung. So he wailed out broken sobs even though that still hurt, too.
The monster laughed, then spoke more words he couldn’t hear, and he knew it was good that he couldn’t make them out. He wasn’t a monster, so he didn’t speak monster. That made sense.
He wept.
The monster stuck something in his mouth. An object. The gun.
No. Please not him. Not him. Not him.
The beast spoke more monster words and sounded mad and happy at the same time. He couldn’t feel the monster's feelings because he turned off his monster-reading senses.
Why was the monster doing this to him?
He drooled around the gun and tried to bite down on it to quiet his screams, but it hurt his teeth.
He was terrified.
All he could hear was his heartbeat thudding in his ears.
He felt sick.
He thought he was going to die.
He felt wetness.
He realized he pissed himself.
The monster didn't notice.
The air smelt like a gross gas station bathroom mixed with copper.
He felt more wetness, a different wetness spilling from where the monster was.
Blood and monster cum leaked out of him.
He felt the mix of wetness slicking between his thighs and drip down his legs, only stopping when his socks soaked up all the fluids. After some unknown amount of time, it settled in his shoes. It felt like he had stepped in a puddle, a smelly, rotten puddle.
This couldn’t be happening, no, not to him. Not to him. Not to him.
He felt nauseous and dizzy.
The monster grunted and huffed on top of him; he could smell the alcohol, the beer, and chewing tobacco on the monster’s breath.
He smelt his blood and some other gut-churning smell he assumed was sweaty, unprepared, raw sex.
He hated sex. He never wanted to do it. But the monster didn't care what he wanted.
He cried until his eyes swelled, and he couldn’t see anymore.
His whole body ached.
He was tired, so tired. He wanted to go to sleep. He wanted this to be nothing but a bad dream.
This couldn’t be happening, no, not to him. Not to him. Not to him.
But it did happen. It happened. To him.
*****
He surmised whatever deal Sullivan made with the Doctor’s experimental drugs was paying off, at least for now.
As relieved as he was with the healing of his noticeable injuries, his main concern sided with the non-visible wounds, what lay beneath his skin—the injuries Sullivan deliberately exploited because he knew better than to dig his trigger-happy fingers into freshly fused flesh and meat and consequently be stuck with the Doctor’s wrathful hospital bill.
His sprained ankle and cracked rib still pulsed with a dull ache.
He hoped by the next check-up, whatever damage his Master dealt would remit, and the memory of this incident would evanesce like the rest of his forgotten scars.
<-Previous | Masterlist | Next->
Footnotes:
*Anthrophage: a person with PEP (People-eater Pox), medical diagnosis “idiopathic anthropophagite contagion.” This is just a fancy name for a diseased cannibal who has PEP that exists within this AU. Anthrophage is not a “real word,” but it’s a play off of the word—anthropophagite.
Taglist: @sacredwrath @potterhead5ever @the-name-is-reaper @little-rat-dragon @pirefyrelight @whumpyourdamnpears
If ya wanna be added to or removed from the tag list, just let me know! Leave a comment or message me :)
#The Aid#Generic Writez#The Aid AU#Wyatt Sullivan#tw noncon#tw sui ideation#intimate whumper#creepy whumper#abusive whumper#sadistic whumper#TW noncon whumper#tw rap3#noncon whump#tw cannibalism#tw urine#tw pee#tw blood#whump story#whump fic#oc whump#oc story#tw slavery#slavefic#institutionalized slavery#post war#whump writing#crazy bullshit#tw insults#tw bullying#bully whumper
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Spencer Reid imagine part 2
I know I’m probably gonna hate myself for doing this, but here I am…in an elevator going up to the BAU. After thinking it over I decided to hear Spencer out. He had just gotten out of prison, maybe he just wanted to clean himself up, and what the actual fuck am I doing! I would try to turn around but then that familiar ding of the elevator reaching the floor that I know dreaded having to enter. As I walk out of the elevator the first thing I see is Penelope with a blue octopus mug, the twin version of her orange octopus mug.
“Hi lovely! I kind of spied on you through the cameras and made you a cup of tea.”
I smiled gratefully at her and very quickly rushed towards her looking for an extremely comforting Penelope Garcia hug.
“Am I stupid for doing this Penelope, for talking to Spencer.”
“Do you want my honest answer?”
“I guess you’re right, here I go I guess?”
I walk away from Penelope and walk through the doors of the BAU with my head held high. I scan over the room, not finding the familiar head of messy hair. I spot Rossi and walk towards him to try to find Spencer.
“Hey kiddo, how’re you doing.”
“As good as I can be considering my current situation…um…is he here?”
“The boy genius is just giving Emily a run up of our most recent case, he’ll be a little while longer so why don’t you catch up with the rest of the team? They’ve been missing you.”
“I think I’ll do just that, thank you Rossi.”
I talk to the rest of the team for a while, completely forgetting about what I was really here to do. Well, that was until I heard a door close, and as I looked over my shoulder there he was. Spencer fucking Reid. I walk towards him, and all that was going through my mind was ‘don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall’.
“Hello Spencer.”
“Hi, can we talk somewhere else?”
“Sure.”
We walk out the glass doors of the BAU and around the corner, standing in front of the depressing wall of dead agents.
“So…how are you doing?”
“Cut the shit Spencer, I just need to know if this Maeve thing is going to be permanent.”
“I was going to leave her but…”
“But what Spencer, you need to answer me right now. Honestly. Do you still like her, maybe even love her? You have to admit it right now because I can’t go through this any longer.”
“I guess so, but I still love you and I want to work this out with you.”
“You could’ve gone to anyone else, and yet you went to her. She tore down everything that I helped you get through, and yet you went back to the literal fucking devil incarnate!”
“I just wanted to look better, to feel better before I saw you!”
“Feel better, what does that mean? Did you fuck her?”
Spencer tries to conduct myself, but even the best profilers with the best poker faces have tells. Spencers is that he cannot hold eye contact if he’s guilty.
“Holy shit…”
“Just listen, let me exp..”
“Holy fucking shit! Spencer Reid I am no longer sorry. You are a delusional asshole. I’ll let you pick up your things in a timely matter, because I am still a good person who cares for people even when they have royally fucked up. I hope you have a great life Reid.”
I turn to walk away and there’s the rest of the team doing an awful job at acting nonchalant after clearly listening in on my conversation with Reid. Penelope stands there with teary eyes, and so does everyone else. I really wasn’t ready to talk to anyone, so I took a shaky deep breath and walk towards the elevators. The elevator doors open and I walk through the doors, pressing the button to the lobby. Before the doors close, Emily just sneaks through the doors, and as they fully close she pulls me into her arms. Any way of me holding my emotions together was thrown out the window. I fall into her arms and burst into tears. I try to breath but I can’t…I can’t breath!
“It’s going to be okay…just breathe with me…in…out…in…out…”
I hear a loud buzzing sound and look up to see that Emily has pressed the emergency button that stops the elevator, and that’s how I ended up in an elevator with Emily Prentiss holding me as I cried. Unlike last time I knew what I was going to do next, and that was to move on. Really move on.
The End?
——————————————————————————————————
As of right now I am done with this story, unless you guys think I should start making a story with Emily Prentiss as the love interest, because she is hot as shit! Maybe even continue this story and move on by having a relationship with Emily?
#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer#reid#criminal minds#emily prentiss#jj#luke alvez#rossi#gn reader#gxb#gnxb#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x you#Spencer Reid imagine part 2
40 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
monsieurstupidite
'Tis I!
packconfig
PACK CONFIG
hypnotato
Random stuff...
missyuuna
YUUNA
ghassanrassam
Movies, politics, and the passage of time