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toxicanonymity · 11 months

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Black Math. Left in Lincoln, pt. 5

8.6k words. dark dbf!Joel Miller x virgin!reader story master list / spotify playlist / joel master

🍑 amazing art by @bonezone44 💙

Now spicier courtesy of the label His smile faded as he looked at you, then he added hoarsely, “God, if you knew how many times I’d thought about you.” There wasn’t so much as a hint of shame in his voice. It had the warmth in your cheeks traveling down, down, down. . . “We’re almost there, baby, but we gotta do it right. We’re almost there, I promise.” He reached into his pants to tuck in his shirt and adjusted himself while he was there. Your eyes fixated on the bulge in his jeans. “God damn,” he exhaled. “Turns me on thinkin’ about it.”

WARNINGS: I8+, Not graphic, but it gets twisted. Lots of plot, including flashbacks, disturbing implicit horror (really), angst, brief self-shaming, big girthy age gap (reader is legal the whole time), pet names and praise, toxic dark joel/fluff, family fluff, gaslighting, manipulation, yearning, pining, obsession, grinding, mutual touching, oral f receiving. NO use of Y/N

A/N: This picks up right after part 4. Word-count wise, parts 1-4 were like half of it. There are two more after this, and I wrote a lot on those before finalizing pt. 5. Thank you all for your patience and enthusiasm. It's so rewarding to see people discuss. Additional thanks to @dark-scape for your help, Raider Joel for your support. I couldn't get the text off bold fyi.

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You awoke to the sound of stairs creaking under heavy steps, a sound you didn’t often hear at home. You blinked awake, still disoriented as your eyes focused. The vanity, the dresser, the empty glass on the nightstand. The closet. Your mind was catching up when the bedroom door opened. Joel was fully dressed with his hair combed back. His brows were knitted in concern as usual, but his eyes brightened when he saw you waking up.

You lifted your head and squinted at him as you propped yourself up with one elbow.

Joel’s tone was as cheerful as you could ever expect to hear it. “Mornin’, sleepyhead. Makin’ sure you're okay.”

“What time is it?”

“Li’l past noon. Still sleepin’? I’ll leave ya ‘lone.”

“I should get up.” You put your head back down on the pillow.

He came over and sat down on the bed. “How’d ya sleep?”

“Good, once I fell asleep.”

“Does the trick, don’t it?” He nodded to the empty glass on the nightstand.

“Yeah,” you laughed.

“Dr. Miller, at your service.”

You giggled again and his eyes glazed over as they fell on your smile, your chest, then met your eyes. He leaned over and put his elbow down on the far side of you.

“Well, you’ve made me believe in beauty sleep, peaches.” He put a hand on your shoulder, dwarfing it with his massive palm as he brushed your skin with his thumb. “Always a beauty, but ya wake up even prettier.” Your face got hot and you looked away shyly.

Joel bit his lip, holding back a smile. He traced the outer curve of your ear with his fingers. “Hungry?”

“Kinda.”

“I’ll go make ya somethin’.” He looked at you warmly then kissed you on the forehead before he went back downstairs.

—-----

You took a shower and got dressed. As your hands glided over your soapy body, your palms lingered on your breasts. You imagined Joel showering and realized you couldn’t picture him shirtless. While you were picking out something to wear, you got to thinking again about the closet full of clothes. They were mostly dresses. You put on one of several soft, casual floral ones about knee length.

Before you closed the closet door, you stopped yourself. You had to face it – the dress you saw in the dark the night before. The one that kept you up. Heart racing, you reached into the far right corner and fumbled with a big, satin hanger. You squinted your eyes almost shut as you carefully brought the dress out where you could see it. You looked at it blurry through your lashes. It was more cream than white.

When you finally opened your eyes all the way, an unexpected sense of relief soothed your chest as if the dress were made of love and meant for you. It was simple, but breathtaking. Not the rigid, intimidating garment your anxiety had envisioned. It had a simple A-line silhouette. The high collar and long sleeves were a lace outer dress laid over a solid one with a sweetheart neckline. The skirt was flowy and came down around mid-calf.

It gave you butterflies and you couldn’t help but imagine Joel went out of his way to get this. It felt like a wishful conclusion, like a romantic story you wanted to believe. You tried to talk yourself away from it, not wanting to assume. But at the same time, you still couldn’t figure who would have left it behind. Your heart sank for a moment when you wondered if it could have been intended for Tess, but Ellie always said they were platonic and even slept in separate rooms. Not only were the clothes not anything Ellie or Tess would wear, but Ellie nor Tess ever lived in this house. They were gone before Joel moved down the street. You put the dress way back in the corner of the closet where it came from.

—------------------

When Joel first settled into the community, he moved into a house near Abe’s, clear on the other side of the neighborhood. You met Ellie first. You were in your backyard gardening when she appeared out of nowhere and asked what you were doing. She was a little younger than you, but much more experienced in life, having been out in the world. You were shy to ask her about the horrors of the infected, not wanting to upset her. But she told you all about it anyway – the different kinds, the way they connected underground. You were grateful for your life and recognized the privilege in growing up like you did. Growing up at all.

Bill used to remind you how lucky you were, especially as a teenager when you would have fits about wanting to go out into the world. Somehow, learning from Ellie in more graphic detail about the state of the world didn’t squash your desire to get out there one day. You asked her all about the quarantine zones and FEDRA school, and those sounded fun, even though she didn’t depict them that way. She asked you a million questions about your little community, too.

You never saw much of Joel until after Ellie left. Frank worried about Joel being all alone, having experienced so much loss, so they invited him over for dinner. The first time, Joel was surprised when you answered the door. He apologized and looked around as though he had made some kind of mistake. Then it occurred to you he might have forgotten your name. You couldn’t even remember a time you had formally met, so you introduced yourself.

He took a few seconds. “Right, sorry,” he mumbled. “I thought—well, Ellie, uh—I guess I thought you were younger.”

Joel was polite and didn’t talk much. Bill liked that about him, so they started having him over for dinner regularly. The two of you didn’t share much conversation, but when you did, Joel seemed in awe of how protected you grew up. It made you self-conscious. It wasn’t something you liked about yourself. When Joel noticed this, he clarified it was a really good thing. Rare. The terror of the world affected most people for the worse.

—

Joel didn’t move into his current house until after the Adlers died and someone needed to take care of the peach and apple orchards. He had already been helping them tend the orchards and also helped fix things up around the property as the Adlers’ age caught up with them.

When Joel moved, Frank had the idea to bake something to welcome him to your family’s end of the community. You made a blueberry cobbler. Frank combed his hair and tucked in a plain, button-up shirt. He didn’t ask you to put on a dress, but you did because Frank always had fun getting spruced. He liked to have a reason, even if the occasion was completely manufactured, like the nights he made dinner and claimed his restaurant had a dress code. You couldn’t deny it made for a nice change of pace, and Bill’s eyes brightened, too despite his obligatory grumbling.

When you were ready to take the cobbler to Joel, Bill said the two of you looked like you were going to a wake.

“It’s nice to dress up,” Frank protested. “It shows we care.”

When you and Frank were about to walk over there, Frank started tearing up thinking about the Adlers. They were your neighbors for as long as you could remember. “I can’t, I can’t do it,” Frank said. Bill didn’t want to do it either. He wasn’t planning on it to begin with.

“I’ll take it,” you offered. So they sent you.

—

You walked up to Joel’s (new) house, stopping to admire the gambrel roof. The front door was newly black and smelled like paint, so you weren’t sure where to knock. You rang the bell and it buzzed sadly in a low, broken tone, as though barely hanging on. When you were just about to walk around back and knock, Joel opened the door holding a dish towel and a salty look that softened as saw you. He let go of the door and looked down as he cleaned his hands.

His voice was deep as always, but it struck you more when you were one-on-one without anyone else’s chatter. “Need somethin’?”

“Uh, no. I don’t.” You smiled just enough to not look scared and countered, “Do you need anything?” His presence was intimidating. Handsome and muscular, with a quiet, powerful energy.

He didn’t say anything. Kept cleaning his fingers. Once he looked at you again, he didn’t look away. He stopped messing with his fingers. It was your only private conversation since the first time he came over for dinner. It was more eye contact than he had ever given you. You waited out the silence, then smiled and held out the cobbler for him. “This is for you.”

He put his hands around the dish, careful not to let his dirty fingers touch yours. “You made this?”

“Yeah,” you nodded and took your hands away. His eyes gave the hint of a smile, but his mouth didn’t budge.

“Welcome to the street,” you told him.

He nodded but didn’t offer any more words. He stood there and looked at you until you said, “Well, you know where we are if you need anything. Bye, Joel.” He nodded and watched you walk away.

—---------

Joel and the Adlers. Those were the only people you were aware of who ever lived in that house. You put on another dress. It was a lightweight, black fabric. Low-cut, flowy, came down to your knees with elbow length sleeves that were kind of see through and flared out.

You were too curious not to bring up the clothes. Over lunch, you asked, “The Adlers didn’t have a daughter when they lived here, did they?”

He seemed to be thinking it over as he finished chewing. “Not that I know of. Why?”

“Whose clothes are these?”

“Ah,” he said. “Well they’re yours now, peaches.”

You smiled. “Before, though.”

“Why? Do you like’em? They look good on ya. Are they the right size?”

“I like’em a lot. They’re nice, they fit well.”

He raised his eyebrows and proudly revealed, “Picked’em up at the boutique.” His cheeks turned pink as he looked at you for approval. “Wasn’t much left. Wasn’t sure you’d like’em.” He took a bite of his salad.

“Wow,” you nodded. You were nearly speechless that he stocked that room for you. If there wasn’t much left at the boutique, he must’ve grabbed anything in your general size. Maybe that’s how he ended up with The Dress.

“Wanted to have what ya needed here, just in case.” He nodded as he chewed. “S’why it took me a few days to come by after Bill and Frank left.”

“That’s nice, Joel.” It was a little awkward. You didn’t know what to say.

He continued to explain himself. “Men like me and Bill, we’re protectors.” He put down his fork to gesticulate. “So when your papa asked me to make sure you’d be okay, I took it real serious. Did everything I could to be ready for any scenario.”

You slowly nodded and he looked at you in anticipation of further response. You said, “Well, you went above and beyond.”

Your face must have given away your shock. Joel sighed. “Might’ve gotten carried away.” He looked down and lowered his voice. “Been a while since I had someone to care for. I guess the idea of someone even possibly needin’ me. . . ” Your heart hurt for him. “Hell, maybe I wanted to remember what it felt like. Look at me playin’ dress-up, right?” He laughed at himself, but his eyes were somber.

You took his hand into yours and looked him in the eyes. “Thank you, Joel.”

“I’m glad they fit,” he said. “Glad ya can use’em.” He took a sip of water, then quickly swallowed it to clarify, “I mean, I’m not glad ya had to leave home. Just glad I could be here.”

“Yeah.” You squeezed his hand. He kissed yours and let it go. “This is really good, by the way. Love the dressing.”

“It’s basil. Grew it outside. I’ve got some herb seedlings in pots down in the basement. We can try to plant’em if ya want.”

Your face lit up at the possibility of going outside. “Yeah!”

“We’ll do the arugula, too. I dunno about the ‘berries, darlin’, but we’ll try.”

—----

It was a cloudy day, but still nice out. Joel seemed to think it might rain later. After lunch, he loaded up a wagon full of plants and supplies from the basement, and the two of you walked through the orchard. The fresh air was invigorating after being stuck in the house.

“‘Member which tree is ours?” Joel asked.

When you correctly pointed it out, he stopped the wagon and let the handle sit. You looked at him shyly as he looked you up and down. “C’mere.” He gently turned you to face him. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” He cradled your head with both hands. You tilted your chin, then he planted a long, affectionate kiss on your lips.

When you got to the garden beds at the back of the orchard, Joel said, “we should plant’em together so they cross-pollinate. Where do you wanna put’em?” Joel watched your face as you walked around them and evaluated the options.

The garden bed to the right already had a pumpkin vine with beautiful flowers. That bed looked more settled, darker, and fertile. “I didn’t know you had pumpkins,” you marveled. “Maybe by those?”

Joel looked down at the garden bed. “Yeah, hopefully they’ll fruit.” He smiled up at you without raising his head again.

Joel used a spade to dig shallow holes, then you nestled the roots in the holes and both of you patted the soil down. First the arugula, then the basil, then the longshot–the strawberries,

“Pat it down, but not too tight,” he said.

When you were finished, you knelt by the vine and traced a flower with your fingers. Its warm colors were cheerful. “When the pumpkins grow, can we eat’em?”

“Sure, darlin’.” Joel looked down at the vine, squatting right beside you. “Y’know, the flower’s edible, too.”

“It is?” Your stomach rumbled at the thought of eating something new.

Half of Joel’s mouth curled into a small smile. “I reckon you’ve never had a flor de calabaza taco, then. Granted, not sure how ya would’ve.”

“Flor de calabaza?”

“Pumpkin flower. Haven’t had one in a while myself. Go on, pick a couple. Let’s try it.”

You plucked one. “Good choice,” he said, giving you a flashback to when he caught you with one of his peaches. The embarrassment flooded you all over again as you picked two more. Joel saw your face change, and he smiled, hopefully not thinking about the origin of your nickname. You wondered how often he thought about it. He picked a flower of his own, leaving a bit of vine on it, then stroked your cheek and said “c’mere.” He looked in your eyes and put his flower behind your ear. He kissed you on the lips, then wrapped an arm around you and began to stand, bringing you up with him.

Joel looked up at the sky, squinting. “Ah, hell. Gimme that cloth.” He knelt down and finished patting the soil as you retrieved the cloth from the wagon. You helped him cover the newly planted arugula, basil, and strawberries to protect them from washout.

—--

You hung out in the kitchen, helping Joel make dinner. The apple blossom in the jar still looked beautiful. He knew how to take care of things. You washed the pumpkin flowers, then twirled one against your nostrils as Joel cooked wild turkey. You inhaled the petals and tried to imagine what they’d taste like. Joel cooked the flowers with the turkey. They were delicious. Granted, anything new to eat was appealing in principle. Novelty was its own seasoning.

After dinner that night, Joel needed to do some work outside before the rain. He showed you a shelf of books and games near the fireplace, then watched your face as you browsed them. You picked up one that you liked as a girl but hadn’t read in years. Joel went out through the basement. You heard him dragging a tarp out.

There were a lot of thoughts distracting you from your book. Your feelings for Joel overwhelmed you. At certain moments, it felt too good to be true. You also reflected on your intimacy and felt like things were moving fast. You understood why: you felt safe and protected, and your body’s physical need for his was totally natural. But the speed also made it feel fragile somehow. Like if you looked down, you might be falling through the air, not realizing you ran off a cliff.

There was also the question: If a connection this special formed so quickly, could it come undone just as fast? You couldn’t rid your head of his wounded face when you said you were lonely. You hurt his feelings and panicked, as if you needed to give him everything you could at that moment to prove that you loved him. As much as you enjoyed having him in your mouth like that, it felt impulsive in hindsight. Desperate, and you hoped he didn’t see it that way. Pathetic, even. But the memory of it turned you on all the same.

You replayed other encounters in your mind and felt like you were largely the one driving things. Burying your fear and grief in his lap. It embarrassed you to think about, but you also felt relieved that there wasn’t really any pressure. It was like Joel said, whatever you want and that’s all. You said you wanted it in your mouth, and of course he wouldn’t discourage it. Then he wouldn't be giving you everything.

The sound of metal banging then scraping on concrete stirred you from your thoughts. Then the basement door opened and shut twice.

—------

When Joel came back inside, it was nearly your typical bedtime and you were cozy on the sofa. You were curled up on your side with the book on your thigh and your eyes closed. You were only half asleep, but you let him take the book. He also spread a blanket over you. When his bedroom door closed, you sat up and opened the book again. There was a black thumbprint on the open page, and it smelled like ash. It gave you butterflies to see his thumbprint. You liked the idea of having part of him in the book as you read it. You knew how irrational these feelings were, but it didn’t stop them.

Joel’s shower turned on. The walls were so thin that you could hear everything. A cabinet opening, the shower door, changes in the rhythm of the water flow. You could hear that he brushed his teeth in the shower. Maybe not just in the shower. He always seemed to taste fresh. A few minutes after the water turned off, Joel came out of his room in jeans and a white t-shirt that wasn’t tucked in. The shirt hugged his pecs and arms and gave you an even deeper, needier appreciation for his physique. The casual look was really attractive on him. You needed him so bad it hurt. If you couldn’t have him forever, you weren’t sure what you would do. If he ended up with anyone else—there was no reason for this thought to even cross your mind, but the fleeting idea of it made your temples weak. He was too perfect.

You were sitting on the couch hugging your knees when he sat down next to you. He put his hand on your knee and dipped his head to look at you. You took a deep breath through your nose. Mint and pine. His post-shower fragrance made your chest tingle.

“You okay, peaches?”

“Yeah.” You mustered a smile. “Just tired. Guess I should go to sleep.”

“Sure, darlin’. Want me to tuck you in?”

Your heart sank at the lack of an invitation. “Yeah.”

Joel took your hand and led you upstairs. While you were in the bathroom getting ready to sleep, Joel made the bed for you before turning the covers down for you to get in.

“There ya go.”

“Thanks.” You got under the covers, tempted to make room for him but not wanting to come on too strong or look desperate.

He sat down on the edge of the mattress and leaned over you like he had in the morning. “Need anything at all, I’m right downstairs.”

“Thank you.”

Joel kissed you goodnight. You were a little sad when he didn't try anything, but you had already said you were tired. In your heart, you felt like he'd always be patient with you. If you wanted to slow things down, it was yourself you had to worry about. But in your heart, that wasn’t what you wanted anyway. You just hoped Joel didn’t think less of you for needing him so much.

—-----------

You woke up in the middle of the night to a deafening clap of thunder. You sat up and your hand went to your chest. You could feel your heart pounding. The wash of your blood through your valves echoed in your ears. Outside, branches rustled loudly and snapped in the wind.

You were unsettled lying there awake and alone. You wondered why Joel didn't just have you sleep in his bed. Maybe he was trying to be respectful, but these were the things that made you second guess the pace on your end. You lay there alone, and began to hear creaking and clattering indoors that made your heart race. Joel was right downstairs, but he never felt so far away. The thunder was okay, but the other noises made your mind race with thoughts of whatever happened the other night at your house. Whatever Joel saved you from. The distorted version of Call Me echoed in your mind.

You worked up the courage to get out of bed. You crept downstairs like you did the night before. A flash of lightning startled you. When a louder, longer crack of thunder followed, you quickened your steps, hanging onto the bannister for dear life so you wouldn’t slip in the dark.

Joel’s bedroom door was cracked open, so you let yourself in. It was almost pitch black dark. He was on his back in the middle of the bed with the covers pulled half down. You couldn’t make out his face, but his breathing told you he was fast asleep. You went around to the side farthest from the bedroom door and smoothed your nightgown under you as you lifted up the comforter and gently sat down. You brought up your feet and slipped under the covers. Joel’s breathing changed, but he didn’t move until there was a louder clap of thunder. You scooted closer and whispered his name.

His head jolted up and he gasped. “You okay?”

“Yeah. But I got scared of the storm.”

“‘C’mere, darlin’.” He turned onto his side to face you and stretched his arm out. You scooted over and laid your head on it. He draped his other arm over you. “You’re okay, I got ya.” He pulled you closer and planted a kiss on your forehead.

You lay there with your arm nestled between you and your hand on his chest. He touched your hair and kissed you on the head a few more times, then dipped his head to kiss your lips, nudging your head up to face him. The kiss was languid and both your lips came to a rest without pulling away. You stayed like that, both of you breathing through your noses with your lips nestled between each other’s. His breathing slowed again, and your breath began to match his. Your lips finally fell away as you drifted off in his arms to the sound of the storm.

In the middle of the night, you woke up on your back with Joel half on top of you, one of his legs between yours. You stirred and he put more weight on you. He sighed your name without waking up, and the sound of it in his mouth gave you butterflies. Then he fisted your nightgown over your breast and slurred, “‘m sorry.” His body jerked and he gasped, then relaxed again. A few seconds later, he mumbled, “had to.” His breath deepened. “For us.”

Your mind became an empty pit, and your heart raced. “Had to what,” you whispered.

“Please." He became unintelligible. "Please," he repeated in distress.

“Had to what, Joel?”

He jolted awake at the sound of his name. He jerked his head up then relaxed as he felt you beneath him. “You ok, baby?”

“Yeah, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

He took some of his weight off you, rolling back onto his side and resting a massive hand on your chest. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.”

He sighed and rested his forehead on your shoulder for a few seconds. Then you asked, “What were you dreaming about?”

“Hmm. . . didn’t know I was dreamin’,” he said. “But I reckon I’d dream about you, darlin’.”

“What about me?”

“Ohh, you and me. . .” He kissed your nose, then your lips, then whispered, “and the rest of our lives.” His words bypassed your mind and wrapped your heart in the tightest little hug. It was already getting difficult to imagine a future without him. You could hardly picture it at this point. What would you even be doing? The same things you’d done your whole life, at the same house, with no hope of meeting someone to share it with. Even if you met someone, you couldn’t possibly imagine anyone else making you feel this way.

—-----------

The storm had died down. By then, it was just the loud patter of rain, darkened with a steady rumble. Joel pulled you close and planted light kisses on your mouth. Then he slid his tongue between your lips and the kisses became deeper. He shifted to hover over you, and you reached out to trace his form, starting with a hand on each pec, sliding them over his shoulders and down to where his triceps stretched his sleeves. You could imagine nothing hotter than Joel with his hair out of place, shoulders and biceps bulging through his white t-shirt. He leaned down to kiss you like he hadn’t seen you in days.

He lowered himself to lay half on top of you again, and you felt the warm shape of his cock hardening against your hip. You and me, and the rest of our lives. . . Between his words, his weight, and his passion, you melted under him. He rested his forearms on either side of your torso. He planted a kiss on your cheek, then your chin, then your throat. His lips opened and closed, opened and closed, crawling wetly up and around your throat without ever breaking contact. His hips pushed his hardness against you and you sighed. He sealed his lips in the crook of your neck and sucked, moaning quietly into your skin. He tore his mouth from your neck with a low sigh to say, “You’re gorgeous, baby.” His voice was hoarse from sleep or want.

He sealed his lips around yours and you could feel his affection with every brush of his tongue. You could taste all the words he wanted to say–that he was desperate for you, would do anything for you, could never lose you. You kissed him back, slowly but hungrily, your hips lifting into him, telling him without words that he could have all of you, you were truly his. You kissed harder, your mouth hanging onto his for dear life, and he moaned into your mouth. A groan was building in your chest but you just wanted to hear him.

—

He sighed as his hardness dug into you, then his hand reached down between your legs, under your nightgown. He lightly dragged his middle finger up and down the crotch of your panties, still kissing you deeply. Then he traced the same line with several fingers flattened together. He broke the kiss to try to read your eyes in the dark. Then he said, “God, I love you so much.” Before you could say it back, he covered your mouth with his. His hips slowly rolled into you as he sucked and tasted your mouth. The rhythm of his stiff cock against your hip made you physically weak with desire.

You tried to shift your hips under him. He got the message and put himself between your legs, resting both his forearms on the bed again. With his cock laying heavily against your mound, you ached with need, dying to be filled, at least by his fingers. But you were also a little shy about how needy you felt. He kissed you with so much love, and you felt just as much for him, but your brain took over for a moment and your lips stopped moving.

The moment you started overthinking it, Joel noticed and pulled back. He experimentally grinded his cock against your front. He leaned his temple against yours and whispered, “Just ‘cause it's there don’t mean ya gotta do anything with it.”

You breathed an internal sigh of appreciation, even though you were salivating to have it in your mouth again. To have it anywhere, everywhere.

—

He cupped your cheek and stroked it with his thumb. “I just wanna make ya feel good. Can I do that?” You nodded “mm-hm,” and his hand returned between your legs, ghosting your clit through the fabric. “Cause I don’t have to,” he went on. “Won’t hurt my feelings if ya go back to your bed, okay?” You nodded. “We’ll just do what you want,” he said. Except for what I want most, you thought to yourself.

Joel reached down to adjust his boxers, then he backed up and kissed his way down your body. Every press of his lips through the satin gown made you throb more. The faint silhouette of his hair made you imagine he was looking up at your face after every kiss, making sure you were still with him. Of course you were. The nightgown had already ridden up. He pushed it further, planted his head between your legs, and kissed you through the cotton of your underwear—softly, then harder. His mouth drew a long sigh out of you as the tension inside you swelled.

His fingers hooked into the hem of your panties and he slowly dragged them down. He covered your warmth with his mouth before you could feel the cool air. The underside of his tongue licked down your dripping seam as his fingers on your thighs continued pulling your panties down.

His head broke away to finish taking them off, and he breathed, “you’re my favorite taste in the world, baby.”

His mouth returned between your legs, and he devoured you just like before. Licking, sucking, flicking his tongue, moaning into you. When he began to fuck you with his tongue, your need to be filled by his cock only strengthened and demanded attention. You said, “Get me ready.”

“Hmm?”

“Ready for you. . .You said my body has to be ready, too.”

He dabbed the corner of his mouth with his wrist, and you could almost see his smile in the dark. “That what ya want?” His hair was out of place already, which made you want him even more.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“That’s what we’ll do.”

—-

He started while he was still between your legs. He inserted a finger and kept kissing your clit while you sighed. He pulled his head away and flattened his fingers. He gently rubbed you as he crawled back up the bed and stopped with his face near yours. His face hovered an inch from yours as he rubbed your desperate, slippery, beautiful mess. He stroked you just right, then pushed his finger back into you, his lungs audibly sucking in a long, deep breath.

Your head tilted up and your mouth fell open. He pushed the finger to the hilt and an obscene moan fell out of your mouth.

“Oh baby, you sound so beautiful.” He began to move his hips against your thigh. “This okay? Or you want me to take it away.”

“No, no, don’t take it away.”

He exhaled half a laugh and slowly pumped his thick finger, staying mostly inside you, curling against your front wall. “How’s it feel?”

“Really good,” you whispered. “Gimme another like last time.”

His cock twitched against you and he kissed you as he slowly pushed another finger in. He moved them in and out and his hand hugged your mound as he did it. Your hips lifted into his hand and you broke the kiss with a sigh that became a whimper. He groaned softly at your desperation and kept rutting against your thigh, fucking you slowly with his fingers. After following a steady rhythm for a while, he clamped his palm down on your mound, adding friction to your clit as he worked his hand. He began to bring his fingers out a little more to slicken your clit again. You throbbed and moaned and could hardly stand it.

“Joel,” you sighed, and struggled to find words. You sputtered out, “I —Joel, I just — I want–ugh–want you, so bad.”

His voice was low and soothing. “Ohhhh, I know it darlin’,” he commiserated. He planted a kiss on your neck as he continued the push of his fingers inside you and his cock against you. “You’ll have me, baby,” he murmured huskily. “We’ll have each other.” He worked his fingers and grinded his cock against you in opposite beats of the same rhythm.

“Another one,” you whispered.

“It’s too much, baby.”

“It’s not,” you whined.

“Let’s add one of yours.” He removed his fingers almost entirely and lifted his palm up to make room for your hand under his. “C’mon.” You nestled your hand under his and carefully added your middle finger. You slid your finger in against your front wall, nestled in a triangle with his two fingers as he pushed inside again. You couldn’t reach very far, but it was enough to feel the stretch. His hand engulfed yours and controlled the rhythm. It was a different feeling, touching yourself with your finger nestled under his. You enjoyed the stretch and his hand engulfing yours, but you could only imagine how much better the smooth tip of his cock would feel.

Moving your finger with his, Joel asked, “Feel good?”

“Yours feel better.”

He lifted his palm and you removed your hand. He kissed you as he began pistoning his fingers deeper and harder. He swirled and scissored them as though making room inside you.

“Joel,” you sighed and your spine curved, jutting your breasts into the air. Your nipple fell out of your nightgown and his mouth was on it right away.

He kissed your breast, moaning into your nipple. Then he kissed your chest, then your neck. “God damn, baby,” he murmured hoarsely.

“Just one more,” you begged.

He grunted with a strong thrust against your hip. “Ahh—Might be too much.”

He paused his rhythm and slowly added his ring finger. So slow it was torture.

“No, don’t stop,” you whined. “Just give it to me.”

He gave it to you, grouping his fingers as close as he could together. The stretch burned by the time he was half in, but you asked for more. You winced at the burn and he took the finger back out.

“I’m okay, it felt good,” you reassured him, but he went back to fucking you harder with two fingers instead, and that felt even better since he didn’t hold back. The burn quickly faded, drowned out by a throbbing tingle that consumed your whole torso, and spread to your thighs, down your legs, making your knees weak.

Before long, you were writhing under him. He sucked your breast again and you moaned his name. He sucked your neck, then whispered into it, “You’ll be a beautiful bride.” Your breath hitched and your eyes widened at his words, but you didn’t want him to stop. He continued, “You want that, right?”

You nodded and heard yourself whisper, “yes.”

Joel sighed and brought his lips back to yours. He pressed his hand into your clit as he worked his fingers to bring you over the edge. “Yeah,” he breathed. Your body jerked and you moaned. His hand hugged your cunt as you came. “Ohhh, gooood giirrrl.” He kissed one half of your mouth as your climax continued. His breath was hot against your cheek. “Love feelin’ ya like this.”

—------

The rain had slowed even more, and the thunder was fading. Joel used his wet hand to pull his stiff manhood out of his boxers with a quiet groan. You reached down to feel it and he shivered at your touch.. The tip was shiny with precum, smeared from rutting against you through his boxers. He must have been aching as bad as you were. You took your hand away, opting to wait and see what he had in mind.

“I don’t have to do this here,” Joel said, his voice weak with need. Then he added in good humor, “But it does need doin’,” and those words landed between your legs.

Your lips parted and you took a deep breath, your eyelids heavy from your orgasm. “Do it here.”

Joel gathered more slick from between your thighs, and the contact gave you an aftershock. He stroked himself and breathed heavily. He rested with his hip and forearm on the bed, and you turned onto your side to face him.

He got closer, right up against you with just enough room to stroke himself. You listened to the wet slide of his hand around his shaft, his breathing, his soft grunts. It occurred to you this was something he did regularly, and now you could imagine it so vividly. The idea of Joel thinking about you and getting himself off was almost too hot to bear. You draped your top leg over him.

He fisted himself and kissed your shoulder. He nosed your nipple, then dragged it up until his face lifted off your chest. He grunted softly as he pumped himself and pressed his nose, then his mouth, into your neck. He was farther down than you on the bed, and the head of his cock was so close to where you ached for it, you could feel the heat radiating as he stroked himself. Then it grazed you, sending a zap of energy through your loins.

“I swear I'm ready,” you whispered.

His voice became shaky. “God damn, I wanna pack you full of this.” He grunted with hastening strokes. “That’s what it’s for, baby.” He bowed his head, and his disheveled hair grazed your cheek. He brought his face up again and kissed you on the lips. “Gonna be all yours,” he murmured hoarsely into your cheek, then added, “and you’re all mine."

"I'm all yours."

"Oh, God," he shuddered as he rolled onto his back. "Baby, I—Ohhh," He exhaled loudly and his body jerked as he came onto himself, sighing "ohhh God, baby." He caught his breath and laid there in silence with you. You rolled onto your back again. He sat up and took the soiled t-shirt off, then laid on his side facing you and rested a heavy hand on your chest.

–

With your blood finally flowing back to your brain, you considered what Joel asked and what you said. Yes, you wanted to be his beautiful bride. On some level, it occurred to you that yes was perhaps the only answer, but did that matter if it was your heart’s desire, too?

You asked, “You think we’re meant to be together?”

“Oh, peaches,” he sighed. “I’m sure of it.” He kissed you and stroked your cheek, then held you tighter. “You’re my world, and there is nothin’ I wouldn’t do to be with you.” He rolled you toward him, nestling your head under his chin, and held you until you fell back asleep.

—------------------

When you woke up in the morning, Joel was freshly showered and standing next to the bed, buttoning a flannel shirt as he watched you sleep. When you yawned, his eyes brightened.

“Why don’t I always sleep here?” you asked sleepily.

He laughed silently to himself with a side-eye at the floor. “Don’t trust myself, darlin’.”

Your face burned at the implication and you shyly hid half your face. His smile faded as he looked at you, then he added hoarsely, “God, if you knew how many times I’d thought about you.” There wasn’t so much as a hint of shame in his voice. It had the warmth in your cheeks traveling down, down, down. . . “We’re almost there, baby, but we gotta do it right. We’re almost there, I promise.” He reached into his pants to tuck in his shirt and adjusted himself while he was there. Your eyes fixated on the bulge in his jeans. “God damn,” he exhaled. “Turns me on thinkin’ about it.”

He lightly rubbed his bulge in just one stroke and adjusted himself again from outside the jeans. It didn’t seem like he was trying to start anything, but he got on the bed and hunger spread across his face as he reached you. He kissed you needily and tore the sheets off you. You let him in between your legs and wrapped them loosely around his thighs, your feet resting near his knees. He pulled down your nightgown and sucked your nipple, inhaling deeply through his nose. Then he sucked his neck, and your clit throbbed against the friction of his jeans. He hardened against you and kept on for a minute, not escalating things further. Then he tore himself away with a groan.

—-

“Wish I could stay here all day and just do this,” he lamented as he got off you to sit on the edge of the bed. “But I gotta go to the QZ.”

You protested, “What for?”

“Somethin’ I gotta do every month, as long as the radio says so.”

“Can I come?”

He shook his head. “Too dangerous.” You expected as much.

“You really have to go?”

He sighed. “Yeah, darlin’.”

“You’re leaving me alone?”

“Your parents left you here for a reason, ‘member? Cause it ain’t safe out there. You think they want me takin’ you there anyway?”

“I know. But you said it isn’t safe here either.”

“It’s safe-er here.”

“Just don’t go,” you whined.

“If I don't, they're gonna know somethin's wrong, baby.”

“I don’t-.”

“--nothin’s wrong, but they're gonna think somethin's wrong.”

“Something is wrong,” you reminded him. “Abe’s missing.”

“He–Abe–darlin’.” Joel sighed, shook his head, and abandoned the topic. He looked down and rubbed his temples with his middle finger and thumb. “I’m sorry, peaches. I gotta go, and I can’t take ya with me.”

“Will you check on Frank at the Army hospital?”

Joel hesitated, then said, “Sure, baby.”

“Are you going to Tommy’s? Bill’s staying there, right?”

“I’m gonna try, darlin’. Don’t wanna leave ya for too long, though.”

—----

While Joel made you breakfast, you went upstairs to change. You also sat down at the vanity and used the stationary to write a short note to Bill and Frank.

Love you and miss you so much, but Joel is taking good care of me.

Joel read it. “This is real sweet, peaches. But do you want’em thinkin’ I’m takin’ care of ya? Thought you wanted to show you could do it.” He made a good point. You went upstairs, started over.

I love and miss you both so much. Frank, Please get well soon.

When you gave it to Joel, he folded it up and put it in his pocket. He told you to stay inside, and reminded you not to open the door for anyone but him. He would be back in a few hours.

—----------------------

After Joel left, you lay around for a while thinking about him and your life together. You went to the kitchen and were about to idly open the pantry, when the counter beside it seemed to move, catching your eye. There was a trail of ants leading to the apple blossom in the jar. You stepped back. The blossom that had looked so nice the night before was yellowed and crawling with them. It was like time was moving in slow motion. You left the scene as it was. You grabbed a shiny apple from the basket on the opposite counter and went to the sofa to read. You couldn’t wait for Joel to get home and tell you how Frank was doing. The minutes crawled by, and you tried to immerse yourself in the story to pass the time.

Only a few pages into your book, you were about to bite into your apple when you heard squawking outside. You set down the book and went to look out the kitchen window. You couldn’t see where the noise was coming from. As you looked out into the orchard, you were startled by a tickle on your arm and flicked off an ant with a gasp. You hadn’t so much as touched the counter–it felt unfair. The squawking continued, and you were going stir crazy wanting to go out and see what all the fuss was about.

Less than an hour after Joel left, you decided to break his rule. You knew he was protecting you, but it also didn’t seem fair to expect you to stay cooped up inside all on your own. He could have taken you with him. You knew he could have protected you from any harm that found you. You looked around and couldn’t find your shoes. Not in your room, not by the front or back door, not in the living room. You wouldn’t let that stop you.

You went outside barefoot, careful to look in front of your feet so you wouldn’t step on anything dangerous. The sky was gray and dim and the cool air was refreshing even with its humidity. Branches were scattered everywhere from the wind of the storm. The ground beneath the peach trees was carpeted with yellow leaves sticking wetly to each other. One third of a peach tree was hanging by a thread off its trunk, the tips of the branches scraping the ground with every breeze. It could have snapped off at any moment, while the rest of the tree stood proud like it didn’t know.

You followed the squawking and found an apple tree full of crows. When you approached, they swarmed into the sky, forming a cloud before settling together on another tree. With nothing better to do, you followed them. The second tree was near yours and Joel’s. They flew toward the back of the orchard and you didn’t follow. You shuffled around your tree, looking on every branch for a fresh apple blossom. On the ground, there were layers of leaves and lots of fallen apples. You were moving your feet slowly and carefully, and your toes caught on something inorganic. Something rigid, fabric. You lifted your foot and when the bill of a hat emerged, you reflexively kicked it away as if it were alive or worse. As if you could simply kick away the pit in your gut. Your stomach turned as you looked at your Red Sox cap on the ground.

The crows squawked and squawked, and your heart pounded. You looked around the orchard as if something might be closing in on you. The trees seemed to get closer, the sky seemed to darken. Your thoughts kept repeating, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to be with you. Nothing. Nothing in the world, peaches. You refused to articulate the gut feeling into a thought. You wouldn’t dignify it. You took a deep breath and grounded yourself, focusing on the feeling of the wet leaves stuck to your ankles.

You covered the baseball cap with leaves again, burying the feeling as best you could, and rushed back toward the house. On your way back, you stepped on a broken twig. When you got inside, you saw it was bleeding.

You cleaned up your foot, then it occurred to you to check the living room closet. You opened the closet door, and the other cap—Jesse’s cap—was still there, exactly where you saw it. To your relief, you also found your shoes neatly laid on the closet floor alongside some loafers and boots. You left them untouched.

You settled in with your book again, hoping to distract yourself. You bit into the apple. Your teeth sliced right through the skin and sank into soft, mealy flesh that almost making you gag. You tossed it outside into the leaves because you didn’t want any more ants, then you locked the door behind you. You sat back down on the sofa and didn’t even try to pick up the book again. You resigned yourself to facing your thoughts.

You explored the worst case scenario of what Joel might have done to be with you. You concluded it was silly to think you had been that important to a man you hardly knew. It was narcissistic, you told yourself, to think he loved you that much. That he would really do anything, just to hold you in his arms. It was the fabric of fairy tales, and it was grotesque. Especially because it didn’t disgust you. It gave you butterflies, and not just the nervous kind.

—-------

As soon as you heard Joel’s truck pull into the driveway, your mind returned to Frank. You had a few seconds before Joel came in, and in that time you realized you should greet Joel before asking about anyone else. You didn’t want to be rude. When the door opened, you got up and kissed Joel and told him you missed him. On your way back to the sofa, you noticed a spot of blood from your foot on the flooring and hoped Joel wouldn’t see it.

You sat down on the couch and asked him how Frank was. Joel’s face was solemn as he took a seat next to you and put his hand on your knee. Your chest tightened at this gesture and the next few seconds felt like an hour until Joel spoke.

"He's doin' better, baby."

You broke down in tears of relief. You would have cried no matter what. Whether Frank was better, worse, or even if Joel didn’t see him, there would’ve been tears of happiness, sadness, or fear. Joel took you in his arms and you buried your tears in his neck.

“So they think he’s gonna recover?” you asked.

“Think so.” Joel looked at you, concerned.

“What do they think it is?”

“They’re not sure, darlin’. S’pose it could be an allergy, or environmental. So it’s a good thing you’re here with me.”

“Did you give’em my letter?”

“Yeah.” Joel leaned forward, lifted himself for a moment, and reached into his back pocket. He handed you your letter and you unfolded it so quickly it almost ripped. Joel slowly rubbed your back as you looked at the piece of paper and tried to steady your hands.

There was a note in Frank’s handwriting:

We love you so much. Protect yourself.

----------------------

Thank you all so much for reading and engaging with my unhinged story. Y'all are truly the best. 💙

I challenged myself to do the smut scene with little if any visual description, hope it worked out okay.

I do not expect the next chapter to be nearly as long.

There are more virgins on my joel master list, and you can follow @toxicfics and turn on notifications for fic alerts.

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot

The Lincoln tag list will be on the toxicfics reblog 💙

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #dark!joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #dbf!joel miller #toxicanonymity ☠️#lincoln!joel☠️#tw manipulation #joel miller smut #the last of us #the last of us smut #content label #cw age gap

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creedslove · 4 months

Note

BABE JOELLL PLEASEEEE JOEEEELLL. If you can maybe post-outbreak!Joel (?). Like he’s been with reader on the road with Ellie before they came to Jackson and they had like a thing going on. Once they settled down they decided that they would’ve been better off as just friends and Joel finds another woman (like closer to his age ecct) but Joel and reader were still close to each other and Joel’s new woman is jealous and asks him to chose between her and the reader

Post outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: love this anon, this idea is genius!

• life on the road trying to survive wasn't easy for anybody, not since the world ended and the ones who hadn't died had to fight unimaginable horrors to survive so it was common for people to get cozy with each other, looking for some comfort, warmth and maybe a little pleasure

• and that was exactly what happened between you and Joel while the two of you plus Ellie crossed the country in order to find Tommy and settle in Jackson

• Joel wasn't the warmest guy nor the most friendly you'd met, but he was loyal, protective and he was a fine damn lover for someone who'd been striving with the basics for twenty years into the apocalypse, however, getting to know this side of Joel took time, as he didn't want to open up to you or let you get closer, but once it happened, he felt he needed you on a daily basis

• you didn't actually label your relationship with him, of course you slept together, you kissed and cuddled and you would die and kill for each other without a second thought but you wouldn't dare calling Joel your boyfriend and he would rather have someone holding him at gunpoint than to acknowledge exactly what nature of feelings he felt for you, let out word them out

• but it worked through all the excruciating crusade you shared until you reached your final destination, there wasn't a day Joel hadn't had his arms wrapped around you, keeping your warm when fires weren't a safe option out in the open, or when your body gave him the release he craved, intoxicated in your embraced, giving Joel what he needed but refused to admit

• when you three got to Jackson, a couple of days went by while Joel was getting acquainted with his brother again and you and Ellie were catching up on much needed sleep and skipped meals after all that time on the road

• so when Joel finally saw you again without being in a rush, his heart skipped a beat: you were so beautiful, too beautiful, the kind of beautiful that made his chest tighten

• of course he knew you were beautiful, he was attracted to you after all, but seeing you looking so carefree, happy, well-fed, cleaned up and wearing fresh new clothes made him realize how way out of his league you really were; not only that, he could also see how other men looked at you and he felt so guilty

• guilty because you were way too pretty and young for him, guilty because you were full of life and you deserved to have a chance of living a happy life now you found a place where life could be almost normal, guilty because he felt it would be a matter of time until one of those young men would sweep you off your feet because they could offer you something Joel couldn't: stability and a possibility of having a family

• so he made up his mind and when you tried sneaking into his bed at night, to finally manage to spend time with him in a comfortable mattress, where you didn't need to hump each other in your jeans in fear of having to escape, he stopped you and took your hand

• those sad cow eyes of his being honest as he told you you would be better off as friends, assuring you he would always care for you, protect you and keep you in his heart forever and it shattered his heart when he saw how bad you were holding back your tears not to cry in front of him, but eventually you agreed, there was nothing you could do, you couldn't force Joel to stay in a relationship with you, it was madness so you thanked him for your time together and promised you wouldn't push him away

• as you moved into your own place, you missed Joel so much, Ellie was still hoovering over you all the time, which was great, you were so thankful for that, and even Joel who tried making some kind of distance would stop by regularly to check on you, have a cup of coffee and grab a meal together

• until you found out Joel was seeing another woman; at first you chuckled to yourself, it sounded crazy to you, but when Ellie arrived at your place complaining about the "annoying cunt" - her words, not yours - Joel started to see, your heart sank in your chest

• you swallowed hard and felt yourself so lost at that moment, it was so difficult to keep pretending you didn't have deeper feelings for Joel, but as long as he was still visiting and you shared that same tension, you still had hopes, but learning he was seeing someone else, was like an ice bucket poured over you, it meant it was over because if he liked her, it meant he didn't like you

• so you decided to look for more information on her and you found out her name was Heather, she had been part of the community since the beginning and she was closer in age to Joel, which made you upset, as you were convinced he didn't want you anymore

• Joel, on the other hand, didn't actually want to meet nor date anyone but Tommy insisted he should go out and meet someone and preferably get laid. He also didn't understand why his brother had decided to break up with you,but since it was done, he knew Heather would be a good fit for Joel

• Heather was... Alright. They were almost the same age which was nice to be able to talk to someone who actually lived a life before the outbreak, remembered the same things and used to watch the same movies and shows, he was also good looking and gentle, but she wasn't you

• she wasn't as beautiful as you were, she wasn't as patient and funny, she didn't have the same corky sense of humor you did or how you could simply overlook all the bad things Joel had done, truth to be told, he wasn't in love with her as he was in love with you

• and as much as he tried to bury deep those feelings, it seemed more and more difficult, and he caught himself unable to simply stay away from you, he couldn't, he was just around you all the time

• it was uncommon to see you walking alongside the streets, Joel often walked you to your job, or picked you up even if it was perfectly safe and he didn't actually need to do this, not to mention the evenings he would either go to your porch and play some guitar just to enjoy your company or invite you to his so you would watch Ellie having her guitar lessons

• and as much as Heather tried being understanding about it, she simply couldn't. She could tell her boyfriend wasn't that her, but then him being in love with another woman was a whole other level

• so she waited for Ellie to go to bed and for you to leave his porch and knocked on his door

"Joel, you and I aren't kids anymore, what are we really doing? Because I started dating you thinking that maybe we would hit off, but this is clearly not working, you gotta make up your mind, Joel!"

"what do you mean?!"

"you know exactly what I mean, Joel! It's either her or me, you gotta decide, because I'm not gonna be here watching you going back to her every time"

• Heather finally says and Joel lowers his head, he looks around then back at her, he couldn't lie anymore, not to her, not to you and mostly not to himself

"I'm sorry Heather, it's her, it's always been her, there's no way I could choose anyone else but her"

• he said and left, he wanted to see you as soon as possible hoping he could still make things right with the woman he truly loved, you 💞

____

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal headcanon #pedro pascal headcanons #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller headcanons #joel miller headcanon

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augustinescruelsummer · 10 months

Text

MEMORIES | CP10

IN which you and Christian exchange heartfelt memories from your relationship while watching the stars, surrounded by a warm night fire.

fem!reader x cp10

content: fluff. teeth rotting fluff. reminiscing. she cleans a wound of his. the World Cup injury. christian’s a lovesick softie !!!

AN: this is so sweet like my teeth are rotting after writing this wtf. I actually have no idea where this came from it feels like the deep hell pits of my brain but I lowkey really like it LMFAO. Also this GIF? MY GOD. LORD. I am FINE.

WC: 2.7k

"REMEMBER that time you went flying into the goalkeeper at the World Cup?" You ask Christian while he nurses a beer, the fire pit providing a warm haze to the domestic night. The sky was crystal clear, minus the smoke your fire provided the air, and it was a perfect night to gaze at the stars. He chuckles softly at the random comment while running a finger down your hair, "How could I forget?"

You didn't know why you made the comment, suddenly overwhelmed with a collection of nostalgic memories while gazing into the fire between you two. Maybe it was the domesticity of the scene, the sun just setting over the horizon on a cold night, the two of them cuddled under her favorite blanket pointing out stars.

"What made y'think about that?" He prompts further, readjusting his arm to allow her more space to come closer. A soft smile falls over her lips as she fully recalls the memory.

THE MEN'S WORLD CUP. 2022.

A sound of horror falls from your lips as Christian goes to kick the crucial goal, flying into the goalkeeper. You watch intently as a blur of trainers come sprinting over to him as he holds his groin in pain, people repping the American flag around you craning for a look at the scene. He had been down for a couple of minutes, partly in pain and appreciating the goal he had just scored. You had felt nauseous, partly due to the fact you'd never seen Christian be intensely injured on the field. He attempts to stand on his own and walk towards the medical facility, but his face contorts with pain as his weight collapses almost instantly on a nearby trainer. His teammates look on despondently at the American boy and his abrupt exit, congratulating him on the phenomenal goal.

"I was so embarrassed," he recalls looking down at you, pulling you out of the trip down memory lane. Your eyebrows furrow at the comment, never knowing he felt like that.

"Why in God's name would you be embarrassed about an injury, Chris?"

He shrugs in an attempt to dodge the question, leaning forward with a long stick to probe the firewood around.

"That wasn't a rhetorical question," you push as he spends longer than necessary on a piece of wood that didn't need adjustment.

"I honestly don't know. The whole time I was in my own head thinking about how not-badass the debacle was, and at the end of the day I knew I was never going to live it down. Interviewers asking me if we could still have children because of it and the picture from my story getting leaked. I was playing for the damn United States and was going to have an early exit because of a groin injury. It brought the team publicity at the end of the day, but I was still mortified."

You lean back to look at his expression while he reveals his thoughts, comfortable in confiding. "It felt like I was 14 years old getting punched in the balls at recess," he adds with a soft chuckle, turning the neck of the bottle around nervously.

"I thought it was quite the badass exit," you told him confidently, "You went viral on social media for being attractive and diving into a goalkeeper for your country. You were labelled Captain America. That is nothing to be embarrassed about."

A grin creeps over his bashful expression and your heart warms at the sight of it.

"I was worried about you in the moment," you told him earnestly as more of the memory unfolded in your mind.

MEN'S WORLD CUP. 2022.

Qatar. A country you knew next to nothing about when it came to locations of hospitals. Your hands were shaking at the whispers Christian was being sent to the hospital. There was no crash course on what to do when your husband gets injured in the World Cup. You flip your phone over in your hands, making the decision to exit your place in the stands. The match had continued and you considered staying, knowing Christian wouldn't want you to worry, but that was inevitable.

"I was researching hospitals left and right, wondering where they would take you," You recalled, not missing the feeling of dread that overcame over not knowing where Christian was being sent.

"Still can't believe you took a fucking Uber in a foreign country to come and find me," he said with a snort. Christian's heart heated at the thought of it, his wife doing anything she could to come and find him. Even though he was delirious due to the pain meds, Christian had still found time to text you where they were taking him. You were in the next Uber to him the second the text hit your inbox.

MEN'S WORLD CUP. 2022.

You gazed into his room, a nurse patiently attempting to take his vitals as he held a thumbs up and snapped a picture of him laying on the bed. The match was on the TV still, Americans rallying to celebrate the valiant efforts of the team. A grin was plastered on his face watching his friends embrace each other. "It's called soccer!" Musah screams at the camera lingering by him, the saying a play at Christian's viral photoshopped meme. You revel in Christian's laugh before bursting through the door, the nurse just finishing his vitals.

"Hi baby!" He greets when you appear in front of him, the excitement of seeing you after a major win outweighing any logic as to how you got here. Sickeningly, he would do the whole thing a million times over just to be babied by you.

The memory is snapped when Christian once again returns you to the present moment.

"God, I don't think I've ever seen someone so proud of me," he said while laying a chaste kiss on your cheek. "I thought you might be upset or embarrassed about the whole situation, but I was incredibly wrong. My girl took pride in the fact her husband put their kids on the line for America."

"Hell yeah!" You chanted, pumping your first in the air. You laughed at the recollection of social media going wild after the event was over, fans wondering if their favorite football couple would still be able to have children. Talk about patriotic.

The fire crackled as a comfortable silence enveloped the couple once again, both of them in their own world thinking about heartfelt memories.

Christian, thinking about when he tied for the 17th International Goal Record in qualifying against Mexico, pulling up his jersey to display his celebration. "MAN IN THE MIRROR," his undershirt read in haphazardly written Sharpie, a true display of his poor penmanship. The moment froze in time, though, when he looked up from his shirt into the boxes and made eye contact with you in the crowd. He swore his heart stalled.

Along with the rest of the American crowd, you were screaming his name out for all the field to hear. His name, an action that had him transfixed watching the stands. You stared at him, shouting the three syllables of his surname, which were heavily enunciated so he knew what was being chanted.

He rose his pointer finger up at you, a sly wink in your direction catching the eye of the camera man. He followed the receiving end of the wink, and there, on the jumbo tron, was you turned around pointing at the proud PULISIC plastered on your back while he motioned towards you.

He took a swig from the bottle beside him to distract his mind from going down every single memory his heart held with you. It was a tempting offer. Christian watched you adjust so your head was in his lap, folding the blanket over both your bodies to fit. You scrolled through the Barnes and Noble app searching for a new book to read as Christian watched the stars twinkle in the night sky.

"Whatcha thinking about, Chris?" You pat his knee a couple moments later to catch his attention, noticing the dazed look in his eyes.

"You."

Your heart sped up at the word, confident it was now a puddle on the lawn. He continued his thought without being prompted,

"Thinkin' about that time when I scored my first ever goal in the pros and you blew me a kiss, and I knew right then that I was gonna marry you." He grinned wickedly down at you, "Thinkin' about that time I scored and the screens caught you with audio screaming I was your 'Captain America'. Hearing my own wife use the nickname was the only thing left needed to die peacefully." He gazes down at you lovingly, capturing your lips to secure the sentiment and sweetness of the moment shared.

"Those two moments you just described," you told him suddenly flipping to where you lie on your back, gazing up at his face. "Are some of my favorite moments too. I was so proud of you I thought my heart would burst, and I was wondering how much jail time I would serve for jumping the fence."

"Jail time?" He asked inquisitively with a laugh, "I don't know what'd I would do if security tried to manhandle you off the pitch for jumping. I wouldn't have enough time to stop laughing to help."

You both giggled at the thought of it. "Y'know after I called you Captain America on the 'tron, I sat back down and went on Amazon to get you a lego set of his shield. It didn't come in the mail until three weeks later because it had to be custom made."

He splits into a smile thinking about the gift, it sitting on the trophy case in the bedroom. It hadn't been moved since he placed it, being featured in personal interviews in zoom calls during lockdown. He took anytime to talk about it when given the opportunity, being his favorite gift ever. It was a fairly large shield, custom made and built with a "Pulisic" engraved in an arch into the middle.

He remembered when he unwrapped and squealed like a little girl, holding it in his hands like a newborn. "Baby, this is the best gift I've ever gotten! It's not even near my birthday!" You had come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist fondly.

"I got it 'cause I love you and I'm proud of you," you told him, leaving a sweet kiss in between his shoulder blades. He blushed under the praise. "Can I frame it?" He asks, gently setting it down on the kitchen counter. "Do whatever your heart desires, baby," you told him with a joyous expression.

"Y'wanna hear my memory, Chris?" You ask him while staring at the stubble beginning to grown in on his face. You take notice of an ingrown hair that needs to be removed before he starts itching and complains at the burn. He hums an affirmation, finishing off his beer.

"My memory is when you got that nasty turf burn after a Chelsea match, and instead of going to have the trainer clean it, you brought it home for me to deal with."

He laughs wholeheartedly, "What can I say? There's nothing better than being babied by your wife." You roll your eyes at him, appreciating his full honesty. Christian has no shame in his love for his wife.

You had freaked out when he walked through the threshold of your old shared apartment, his shoes squeaking on the freshly cleaned carpet.

"Christian!" You had chastised from the couch without looking up, "Take your dirty shoes off, were you raised in a barn!?" He doesn't respond, causing you to look up with a frustrated demeanor, before taking notice of his bloody knee.

"Christ, baby, I thought you would've gotten that looked at before you left the field," you said, beckoning him closer. Christian tries to not let the joy he's feeling show at the thought of you having to take care of him, knowing it's about to occur. He's a softie, what can he say?

"I needed my favorite doctor to look at it?" He tells you with a charming grin, phrasing it like a question in an effort to avoid a lecture.

You don't put up a fight, guiding him to sit in one of the dining chairs while you disappeared into the bathroom to get antiseptic and Advil. You pour him a cup of water, double checking to make sure you were giving him the right amount Advil. You always had an irrational fear of your star boyfriend overdose on it because of a misread by you. Satisfied with the information the bottle had given you the previous ten times you had read it, you reentered the battlefield, aka Christian's knee.

Meanwhile, Christian had been smiling like a fool at the TV running post-match highlights of his game. It was such a small thing for you to turn the matches on while working from home, but it meant the world to him. He knew you had probably sat on the couch with your feet tucked under you, the work iPad you lugged around resting in your lap as you worked. The TV was probably set to a low volume, not loud enough to distract you, but quiet enough so you could still listen for your husband's name. You wore an oversized Chelsea T-Shirt, his name adorning the back per usual.

"This is gonna sting," you told him drily, holding no sympathy for your husband at the moment. He had to know you were not qualified in any sort to be cleaning up a pro soccer player's wounds, but yet here you were at 11:30 on a Monday night.

"I have work tomorrow," you stated as you stared at the alarmingly late numbers on the oven clock, which motivated you to harshly rub the antiseptic onto the burn.

"Jesus, baby! Is it really necessary to do it this rough?" He asked you, biting his lip. You didn't respond, outstretching your free hand for him to squeeze which he took gratefully.

"You know, if the team trainer had done this it probably would've hurt less," you said through gritted teeth, taking one last swipe down the wound.

"Ok, ow! Fuck!" He whined at the contact and you rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to call him a big baby. You were not particularly inclined to be dealing with his antics this late, even though you loved Christian more than anything. You slapped a bandage onto the burn, placing a kiss to it, making the classic smile return to his face at the tradition.

"I'll make you breakfast tomorrow morning to make up for the fact I kept you up," he told you while sliding off the chair. You smiled at his words, always a giver.

"Baby, it's fine. You can if you want to, but I tend to your wounds and shit because I love you and want to take care of you." You gave him a kiss on the lips before handing him his water and Advil. "I put you out some sleep clothes after the game ended, I figured you'd be tired," you said while filling up your own water bottle at the fridge. Christian smiled like a fool, wrapping you into his arms for a proper hug once you were done at the fridge.

"God, I love you. Thank you," he said, placing a kiss on the top of your head before making his way to the shower.

One of your favorite things was reminiscing on moments like these with Christian, moments where the health of your relationship shown through. There were so many you could laugh about with him. Christian stood up after another stretch of comfortable silence, attempting to put the fire out to the best of his abilities. You folded the blanket up and placed his bottle in the trash facing away from him. You heard the whoosh of the flames going out, and then felt a tattooed arm wrap around you, scooping you up. He carried you into your house bridal style, a delirious grin on his face the whole way up the stairs, drunk on the joyous memories.

#christian pulisic one shot #christian pulisic fluff #christian pulisic #christian pulisic blurb #christian pulisic fic #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic x you #football x y/n #footballer x reader

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genericpuff · 8 months

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alright so this is a post I've been wanting to write up for a little while now, but I was waiting on permission from a third party to post DM's (censored, of course). That permission has since returned with a yes, soooo

LET'S TALK ABOUT RACHEL'S HIRING PROCESSES-

okay this isn't gonna be as comprehensive as I'm making it sound BUT I've mentioned before on this page (albeit briefly and it's long since been buried) that I actually applied to be a background artist for Rachel a couple years ago, I think it was around the midpoint of S2, and it was (obviously) before I turned to the dark side of crit-n-shit-posting. I never got an email back, so that was that. I'd like to think there's a parallel universe out there where instead of joining the antiLO/ULO community, I became an assistant for Rachel and remained a fan. Enjoy that fridge horror thought.

That said, while I didn't get a response, someone on reddit mentioned that they did:

And they were kind enough to share further details with me in DM's.

Right off the bat, I'm fairly certain they were applying to the same ad I was (as it was a posting that Rachel had made on Twiter and the approximate years line up).

All that aside, considering what Rachel's process is like with her assistants (from what we've discussed here in GREAT detail), it's not shocking in the slightest that the vibe of working with Rachel from the very beginning was "IDK what I'm looking for".

Buuut that's not the end of the exchange because it gets better.

Mind you, this was back in 2019 and it was the experience of one user, so it doesn't necessarily reflect every assistant on the team or how Rachel does things down to the last detail. But it's pretty damning enough that you can still see the evidence of this kind of workflow in current LO 4 years later. If anything she's continued to operate with a rapidly declining pipeline because the art just keeps getting worse and worse.

Part me of wants to say that this could be on Webtoons, as they don't offer support to creators to have assistants. Creators have to pay for their assistants completely out of pocket, split from the income they make from Webtoons. This is why so many creators often don't have assistants or their 'assistants' are also their co-creators (see: Nevermore, which is drawn and written by two people working together).

But Rachel has an average of four assistants per episode, sometimes as many as eight in some cases (though it's been a while since that's happened so I won't really count it for this post).

That means Rachel's team is typically made up of five people, including herself, and that's not including the recent addition of copy editors (but that balances out with the times when Amy Kim isn't contributing , she tends to pop in and out).

Now, she's not the only person on WT with a team of this size, there are others with comparable teams if not bigger ones, but NONE of them seem to operate with as much inconsistency as LO does, and that's not on the assistants, that's on Rachel. She's said in interviews that she always wanted to be a director and that making LO on Webtoons was her way of achieving that, but she doesn't seem to have the integrity or leadership skills necessary to take charge when the team isn't working in sync. You don't see any of these insane art art inconsistencies in webtoons like The Kiss Bet or Tower of God (though they have their own problems, the art isn't one of them), and there are webtoons operating without a team at all that are drawing circles around LO right now, like Nevermore (which is, by the way, also edited by Bre Boswell, same as LO).

Now, that's not to say there isn't struggling underneath the surface, the creators of Nevermore have stated how difficult it is to work for Webtoons as it is, especially as creators who don't have assistants. But how is the #1 comic on the platform failing to meet the standards that come with its labels and awards? Why are the exceptionally better comics being drawn by 1-2 people not getting the attention or opportunities they deserve from the platform? And why does Rachel Smythe, one of the highest paid creators on the platform, still seem to struggle with managing a team of artists after five years of publication on Webtoons? Why does she choose to have a large team if she can't pay them adequately? Why have a large team at all if she's not going to utilize their skills properly? To further lighten the load of work onto others?

Really, it just goes to show the lack of care and respect all around - for the self, for the work, and for those who are pushing out the work and meeting the deadlines, whose reputations and potential are being dragged down with the comic itself.

#lore olympus critical #lo critical #antiloreolympus #anti lore olympus

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batty4steddie · 5 months

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Can I Keep It?

Chapter 1: Have You Ever Been Arrested?

Robin had the night off. Band practice or some shit. Steve was so bored. It had been dead in Family Video all day until finally, finally someone remotely attractive came into the store: Christina Kelly, a blue-eyed, bright blonde-haired Hawkins High cheerleader. On some girls, the uniform looked frumpy, but on her, the shortness of it skirted nicely over her ass. Steve’s eyes roamed up her mile-long tan legs and settled on it. She was drop-dead gorgeous. He licked his lips and continued to watch her browse the shelves for a minute. She must’ve come from practice or a game. Steve remembered her instantly. Hard to forget a face and body like that. Damn, sometimes he really missed high school, even if it was just for the eye candy. Once he got a good, long look, he approached her with a warm smile. He welcomed her to the store and introduced himself. While he remembered her, she didn’t remember him at all. Even after he told her he was on the basketball team, the one she had cheered for all three years they had gone to school together.

Whatever.

The bell above the door tinkled as Eddie swaggered in. It was 6 P.M., and he was fully prepared for the campaign on Friday night, so he figured he would rent a few flicks to watch while he struggled through his trig homework due tomorrow. You know, be a responsible student. Maybe some entertainment with his studies would deter him from giving up and smoking the superb grass Rick had supplied him earlier that week. Eddie had already sampled more than he was technically allotted. It was just too good to keep his sticky fingers out of. Nobody was at the front counter to greet him, but Eddie spotted a tuft of styled brown hair bobbing by one of the shelves and a blonde ponytail with a green scrunchie he recognized as belonging to one of the Hawkins High cheerleaders. Steve was thrilled—not only to have someone to talk to, but he was still trying to find the one, and Christina? She could be it. Smoking hot and unsure of what she was looking for, damn if she hadn’t come to the right place. Steve turned the charm up to eleven by taking the liberty of showing her around the store. The sections of the store were clearly labeled, but he still guided her, asking if she liked comedies, romances, or thrillers. Not pegging her as a horror fan. Eddie rolled his eyes with a smirk. He had half a mind to jump in and yell BOO! to interrupt whatever heterosexual mating ritual was happening between the romance and action movies. Instead, he headed towards the horror section one aisle away from the pair, gaze flitting over the titles. When one caught his interest, he picked up the empty case and turned it over to read the premise.

Night of the Creeps, where alien space slugs turned people into sorority girl-eating zombies? That sounded pretty metal. For every suggestion Steve made, Christina took a video off the shelf to consider it. That made him think that she was totally into him. By his last suggestion, The Legend of Billie Jean, she had an arm full of tapes. He went into a brief synopsis, explaining it was about a brother and sister on the run from the police, which prompted a sly question. He paired it with his most devilish smile.

“Have you ever been arrested? ‘Cause it’s gotta be illegal to look this good.”

The voice of none other than Steve Harrington nearly made Eddie choke on his spit. He hastily reshelved the movie. How had he not recognized that famous hair? Eddie’s fingers clamped onto the top of the shelf as he stealthily peeked over it. He felt a giggle bubbling up in his chest at the schmoozy smile plastered on Steve’s face. The cheerleader backed up a step, expression twisting. “Ew, I have a boyfriend.” She dropped the movies from her arms, shoving past Steve towards the exit. “Creep.”

Eddie covered his grinning mouth with his hand, rings clacking against each other gently. Steve Harrington had zero skill when it came to the babes. Eddie always figured he tossed his hair, and they flocked to him. What a pleasant surprise.

Christina’s reaction was so bad. There wasn’t even a laugh at the fun cheesiness of it. Of course she had a fucking boyfriend. How many times was Steve going to go barking up the wrong tree? He groaned when the tapes hit the floor, and his smile instantly dropped. His concern was more about damage to the tapes that Keith would take out of his pay if they were broken than his bruised ego from Christina calling him a creep. Which hardly was the truth. The bell jingled as the door closed. In the ensuing silence, a giggle finally escaped. Eddie quickly ducked out of view when Steve turned in his direction. He poked his head around the corner before coming out, starting a slow clap. “Wow. That was epic, man.”

Steve was just about to bend down to pick up the tapes when he heard a laugh. The fucking laugh he wanted Christina to laugh. He hissed and flushed briefly with embarrassment, of course, because what was worse than striking out? Having a certified freak witness it. “Yeah, well, I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen a chick on your arm, Eddie. Can’t blame me for trying, man. I’m just not her type.”

Because she had a fucking boyfriend. Steve was beyond annoyed—he was humiliated, and the tapes were still on the floor. He sighed softly and bent down to scoop them up.

“You wouldn’t,” Eddie replied, not missing a beat. “My arm is for me only. I keep all my foxy ladies back at my sweet, sweet bachelor pad.”

From Steve’s bent position over the videotape, a piece of hair had fallen into his eyes as he looked up at Eddie. His brow furrowed, but he didn’t say anything. Just looked completely puzzled by the comment.

He knew Eddie was poor and lived in a trailer at the trailer park, but even he could get chicks to hang out with him there? Or was he keeping some women there against their will? Eddie wouldn’t admit that to him, would he? Even if he was a freak like everybody said.

Steve shook his head and huffed inaudibly. He wasn’t sure if that was the truth, but still, he didn’t like hearing when other people were successful in their romantic pursuits.

The last time Eddie had a chick on his arm was in nineteen-seventy-eight at a Burger King birthday party when Jeremy Jenkins dared Heather Drew to kiss him. She’d tasted like ketchup and strawberry Lip Smacker. Eddie had spent the entire excruciatingly long three-second kiss staring at the cardboard cutout of the king standing behind her. Eddie’s grin widened when he spotted the red on Steve’s cheeks. He held back from further mocking purely for Dustin and the other kids’ sake. According to his little sheep, Steve might as well have hung the fucking moon, but Eddie still saw him for what he was: a bully. Plain and simple. The guy who would call Eddie names in the hallways along with his dumb jock friends. Eddie's back was well acquainted with bruises from being shoved against lockers, and his face had taken many a beating by the dumpsters. It might never have been Steve’s particular fist in his face, and Eddie had never taken anything lying down (fuck no), but he knew Steve’s kind. And he wasn’t a Harrington groupie.

“You could help,” Steve griped when he saw one of the tapes had gone as far as three feet, right where Eddie was standing.

Eddie toed the movie closest to him with his sneaker. Molly Ringwald’s pouty face stared up at him from the cover, which was cracked right down the middle. Eddie crouched on his knees to grab it, his pants pulling uncomfortably tight from the stretch.

While leather looked punk rock as hell, it wasn't the most forgiving fabric, especially when it was actually cheap pleather.

Steve stood up with the tapes and set them on the counter while Eddie picked up the last one.

“Yeah, this one is busted,” Eddie said, popping open the case to reveal an identical crack down the tape, one of the inner reels poking through.

Steve winced. That hurt. “God damn it,” he said softly, coming over to take it from him and looking it over himself. Yeah, it was broken.

“Sorry, Molly, but if it's any consolation, your movie was probably shitty anyway.”

“Actually, it’s a pretty good movie, man. It was really popular, too. We just got it back from being rented for a while. I’m going to get questions about it all week. Who knows when we can get another copy.” Steve walked it over to the trash and threw it away. “I think you might’ve liked it. It isn’t all about her. She’s kinda annoying in it, but there’s a guy, Bender, who kind of has… your fashion sense and disposition.”

Steve chuckled as he discreetly checked out what Eddie was wearing. Eddie’s leather jacket and jewelry were pretty similar to that character’s. Steve returned to the counter and looked over the rest of the tapes. Luckily, they were fine.

Eddie rocked back on his heels in surprise, starting a slow walk around the circumference of the counters as he eyeballed Steve. He hadn’t expected the guy to keep talking to him. Still, here he was, going on about Eddie's fashion sense, his disposition? Was that an insult? Eddie didn’t know what to do with this. Why was previously reigning King Jock giving him the time of day? Why wasn’t he busy admiring his reflection in the window? God, this job must’ve been boring as hell for him to actually do it.

“Were you looking for something specific? Seriously doubt you came to witness me striking out with Christina Kelly. You just got lucky.”

It was kinda funny now. It got Steve smiling and shaking his head at himself.

The store was still empty, and he was still lonely, so he could at least do his job and help Eddie find a movie since that was his reason for coming to the store. “Um…” Eddie crossed his arms. Uncrossed them. “Nothing specific. Something to keep me from faceplanting from boredom into my homework.” Or lighting up and spending the rest of the night floating like ash on the wind.

“Definitely don’t miss homework,” Steve replied while he took the tapes off the counter and started putting them back on the shelves where they belonged. As Eddie continued to walk around, Steve noticed a little jingle from his wallet chain as he paced the store.

“Something spooky, maybe?” Eddie wiggled his fingers with a playful smile to cover his discomfort. This unexpected turn of events piqued his curiosity, so he didn’t mention he had already found a movie.

“Something spooky, huh?” Steve asked with a playful smirk, though he was turned toward the shelves so Eddie couldn’t see it.

Of course the freak was into horror. That wasn't a surprise. Family Video had a stellar horror collection. While the last couple of years had been horrific in Hawkins, Steve still enjoyed the fictional movie version sometimes. Most of the horror movies he had seen triggered his memory in a good way when it came to making weapons and fighting off Demogorgons with them winning. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. We’ve got lots of horror here. Although, if you’re a fan… which is safe to assume?” Steve asked Eddie when he turned back to face him, raising his eyebrows. He knew it was true, so he smiled when Eddie nodded a bit. “Alright, we’ve got Fright Night, Day of the Dead, Return of the Living Dead, A Nightmare on Elm Street two and Friday the 13th, part five.”

Surely, one of those Eddie hadn’t seen. Eddie met Steve back at the horror section, popping his hip against a shelf as Steve read the newest releases. You’ve come to the right place, Steve said. Had he come to the right place, or was he actually in an alternate reality where a jock didn’t tell him to return to the Hellfire he came from? Why did Harrington keep smiling at him?

And why did he smell so good? Was that coconut? He should have smelled like old pizza and dirty gym socks like most guys their age. Eddie knew he was rocking cigarette smoke and not much else, himself. It would be very unchill of him to lean in and get a bigger whiff of that coconutty paradise.

To Steve, horror movies weren’t all that bad. A lot of them were funny and cheesy. Totally entertaining enough that doing homework during them was probably possible.

Horror movies made him adamant that the group stay together and stay put instead of getting involved, but no one ever listened to him. They wanted to go, get involved and split up, which were the worst horror movie tropes. Their lives had become just like the people in every horror movie he’d ever seen. There was no convincing his babysitting crew of that, though, so he took the lead every time. “Vampire, zombie, deranged burn victim with knife fingers, murderous goaltender…” Eddie went through the list. “What flavor monster goes best with trigonometry?” Eddie pinched his chin with his fingers as he pondered it. “I wasn’t too thrilled with the first four Fridays. Not much to those plots. Not nearly enough razzle-dazzle." He graced Steve with jazz hands this time instead of spooky fingers. “Elm Street had a lot more going for it. Maybe I’ll take the sequel. Thoughts? Got a favorite?” If Steve had even watched any of them. Though Eddie was a fan of most things horror - the more outlandish, the better - he didn’t watch them all that often. He didn’t have the patience to sit and focus for a long time without help from his favorite herb. It was good background noise, mostly.

At least with D&D, he was actively participating. He didn’t have to sit still. He could move around, and he got to use his wickedly colorful ideas, feeding off of other people’s imagination and making a story come alive.

Some things, like math homework, were so fucking stifling he wanted to shoot himself.

It was hard for Steve not to notice Eddie’s jazzy hands. His fingers were adorned with a plethora of shiny rings. He was talking animatedly with them about the different movies. The shininess of the rings caught his eye, especially with the extra movements.

Steve hadn’t been into movies before he got this job. (Robin was the one who really got it for him, talking Keith into it somehow.) Back then, he could only name two movies: Animal House and Fast Times. He’d come a long way since then and had a lot of downtime in the store since they were only busy on evenings and weekends.

When he and Robin worked together, they always put a movie on or had one going. They’d gone through most of the horror. He’d entertained Robin to no end when he’d talk back to the TV, putting his hands on his hips and yelling, “No. No, don’t go in there! What are you doing? No!”

Steve looked down at his watch. Still an hour and a half was left of his shift. Also, the closest thing to jewelry he wore was his watch, but Eddie’s rings did seem… dare he say… cool. Maybe he could pull off a ring or two.

“I agree they should’ve stopped with the first Friday.” He didn’t really have a favorite. “They’re all pretty good for what they are, but I think you should go with the sequel, yeah. You already have an idea of the characters, so you don’t have to pay too close attention and can get your homework done.”

While Steve was checking his watch and probably wishing for his shift to be over, Eddie was dragging his heels. He was surprised to find he would’ve been okay hearing Steve talk more about movies. He didn’t sound particularly passionate about horror. It made Eddie wonder what he did like. Probably some predictable slapstick with lots of boobs, like Porky’s.

“Joy,” he replied, thinking of his homework waiting for him and almost letting out a whine.

Steve grabbed the movie off the shelf and headed towards the counter so he could get Eddie checked out.

“Guess that’s that,” Eddie added in a mutter Steve couldn’t hear. Eddie followed him, drumming his hands on the countertop as Steve pulled up his account and started typing away.

It was best that Eddie left before he decided to do something like lean in and smell the guy on purpose this time. While he waited, he sifted through the snack selections, unsettling all the organized displays. He stuck his hand in one of the round glass jars, dislodging the loosest ring from his finger as he rifled through it for a fistful of fizzy candies. The ring fell to the bottom of the jar, unnoticed by Eddie, who slapped the sweets on the counter. He also grabbed a box of Nerds, a bag of Skittles, and a Big Hunk bar on impulse. Steve smiled a bit because usually, it was only bratty kids begging their moms for candy that got it from them. Steve didn’t mind that Eddie was getting more than the movie. When he saw everything he was getting, though, he couldn’t help but judge some of it. Most of it was the real sugary stuff. The Big Hunk bar was the only thing he could get behind.

“These are addicting,” Steve said about the Big Hunk bar. He could feel his mouth starting to water just looking at it.

Likes Big Hunk bars. Eddie filed that information away in his head without really knowing why. It wasn't like he’d need to use it later.

“I'm gonna need a bag,” he informed Steve. These pants did not have usable pockets.

“Of course.” Steve nodded, swallowing his spit as he started bagging everything up.

He wondered if Eddie was high. All this candy made him think that he had the munchies or was going to later. Most of the kids at school got their weed from him, so it wasn’t a stretch.

Ah, he could remember the last time he got caught getting high. His dad had accused him of being on drugs. He could remember just saying he wasn’t and that marijuana wasn’t drugs. That hadn’t gone over well.

Once everything was rung up, Steve told Eddie the amount, took the cash and got him his change. He handed over the bills and coins and pushed the bag of candy and movie toward him. “Enjoy...”

“Thanks, big boy,” Eddie said, grabbing the bag with a tongue click and a wink.

He left the store, mouthing big boy? to himself in a split second of internal embarrassment before he shrugged it off and hopped in his van, taking off down the road towards the trailer park.

Steve’s eyebrows rose and then furrowed. A shiver ran through his body like an electric shock, unsure what that was about or what caused that reaction in him.

Slowly, he realized. Maybe there was a reason he’d never seen a girl on Eddie’s arm.

Steve stood there for a few minutes, perplexed by what had happened, until he snapped out of it and started straightening up the store. There probably wouldn’t be any more customers tonight. While Steve was re-organizing the candy Eddie had disheveled, he saw that one of the jars was low, nearing empty. He grabbed some candy to refill it when something shiny caught his eye.

He reached in and pulled out a large skull ring. Eddie must’ve left it behind by accident.

Only when Eddie was settled in for the night with his homework open, the movie on, and his candy pile rapidly dwindling did he notice one of his rings missing.

“Shit,” he swore, looking at his naked finger where a fanged skull used to be. That one had been his favorite.

He looked around inside the trailer and outside of it with his uncle’s flashlight, but nothing shiny turned up in the beam.

Steve thought about calling Eddie up and letting him know he could come get his ring, but then he put it on and looked it over, smiling. He could totally pull off a ring like this.

He’d try it out for a day or two, then give it to Dustin to give it back to Eddie when he saw him next. They were good friends now, to Steve's dismay. He wasn't jealous of anything.

Eddie didn't seem too bad... for a freak.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddiebang23 #steddie fic #fic #writing #vampires #zombies #bats #stranger things #stranger things fic

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pinkandpurple360 · 4 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/pinkandpurple360/734428651432591360/rewriting-the-i-like-tormenting-you-scene?source=share

Holy shit your writing of stella is amazing i would love to see more of your stella interpretation *picks your neurons in spoon like ice cream*

The "dragging me from one dollhouse to other" is just DAMN amazing and goes into my citation list. I see that Hellaverse isn't really egalitary and matriarchial so much (wtf where are moms that kills husbands why there are litterally so many characters who have dead moms...) as if it still have arranged marriages and i find it... Kinda... Stupid really idk... I want to see more punk and weirdness in hell, especially elite and hell culture. Btw they could just have random Orphan Child instead of their own lol. i think it would be fun since a lot of religious propagandist people i see are fixing about "making your own blood" on tv to convice people into making demography higher.

Like idk irl so much nonconfirmity and tradition repulsiveness considered terrible sin, i think they can have way more funnier culture and things than just plain anarchy. Or, like, monarchy and feodalism, but with more kill-counts. Idk what about instead of arranged marriage send your kids to marry who they want, have kids, but THEN make their kids forcefully friends-nemesis like in phineas in ferb lmao to express their wish to destroy other family and their plans, but not so much. So they can not only create one child, but multiple, so nemesis just try they best to have a bad effect on their younger siblings lol. Or try to make them into soblings. Or try their best to piss off them all. And parents may help both sides, or just laugh at them, and be proud. Now THAT'S the arranged shit i want to see rich elite characters in lol.

And also this ancient tradition help them to develop both social skills, manipulation skills, sarcastic remarks skill, and fighting skills, of course. That'll be funnier. I kinda just love seeing nonhuman characters acting nonhuman and managing their relationships nonhumanly, im very bored of seeing patriarchy in fictional species that can just not act in this way because why.

And your writing feels so much more natural than original, because... I like original stella because how comedical she is in her evilness (hiring killer right before victim right while dinner is a hella funny thing im ready to forgive all sins and oversimplyfying for it), but actually your version of writing is more relatable, and human-looking, and humane to her. And show her as not a pure evil i love it, since Stella in canon (and fanon because her poor writing) just made into a joke... And it honestly is the thing i don't like.

well... I lived with abusive family in a very weird situations. Basically horror irl, so it's indeed a shit story to be involved in as a kid. Amazing rewriting

Thank you!!!

Im so sorry you went through such a thing. Hope things are better now.

It felt soo cathartic just to write it and I’d recommend anyone who hates a scene to just rewrite it on your notepad or something because that genuinely helps. The inclusion of Octavia and how his gross sexual exhibitions affect her also felt very important to me. Because he refuses to ever accept it.

Thank youuu for picking my neurons hehe. Writing Stella is interesting because she’s such a blank slate, but there’s so much untouched subtleties. Her rage tendencies, her need to have money, an obsession with parties and stimulation, clearly the only source of excitement in her life.

Where are the moms who kill husbands? Stella is the only one, and this action makes her the next mom on the chopping block apparently. Crimson murders his wife and gets yaoi made of him despite the fact that he’s straight.

I too wish there was some semblance of a punk scene but everything gets labelled goth instead. Kindve a shame. And you’re right they don’t behave like birds at all, there’s no clever animal puns or character work being done. Swans peacocks parrots owls ravens? Why?

I wish Stella could be a character, while having her occasional moments of petty villainy and comedy. Stop trying to force a comic relief character to be this Uber serious abuser or whatever. Her story is just as sad as stolas in many ways and there’s no getting around it. The projection of amber heard hate onto her is so childish.

#helluva boss critical #Stella helluva boss #rewrite

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mimixso · 2 months

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tartaglia hate club (ft. kazuha and albedo)

kazuha - the comfort streamer who can do no wrong. in the eyes of the public, kazuha is an angel, and in reality... he's still an angel. he tends to stream peaceful games like stardew valley and pokémon. however, he'll occasionally play other genres when he collabs with other streamers. kazuha also posts lots of song covers and even writes original songs! people fall head over heels for his lovely voice, as it could easily lull just about anyone to sleep. most of all, he's admired for his gentle and kind personality. he's never lost his cool, even while telling off haters, and that's why fans have labelled him the biggest green flag of all time. his only red flag is his occasional... moments. sometimes when kazuha is really into something, he'll get poetic to the point where his viewers don't understand a thing.

xiao - where do i even start with this one? he's like grumpy cat #1 of the friend group. although he acts like he doesn't give a damn about his friends, he cares about them a lot deep down. fans tend to clip moments where he shows his softer side, and everyone squeals over how adorable he is. they're absolutely in love with miao for the same reason. people love the way xiao looks at melon. although he's pretty cold most of the time, it's also pretty entertaining. unlike other streamers who literally throw a fit when they lose, xiao just stares into the camera with a murderous look on his face. what's even funnier is his deadpan expression whenever he wins a match in an fps game. he carries every single valorant stream for real. fans also LOVE his horror content because of his lack of enthusiasm and emotion.

scaramouche - emo freak. he's a creep </3 he's a weirdooooo!! what the hell is he doing here? he doesn't belong here. anyway, scara is a bit of an oddball. whereas xiao is passive and rather uncaring, scara is outright mean to his chat. they enjoy it though! he calls them freaks for finding happiness in being degraded, and honestly, he's kind of got a point. sometimes when his chat calls him mean, he’ll tell them that he’s not mean; he’s just telling the truth. it’s absolutely brutal, and his fans love him for it. scaramouche is an absolute god at basically any multiplayer game. he secretly practices in his free time because he hates the thought of losing during collabs. the only times he’ll willingly give up first place are instances where his loss would allow yui to win.

childe - a lot of people compare him to ed sheeran because he's a ginger in the music industry. each week, he has to make a stream debunking the allegations, and he is absolutely done at this point. he can't take it anymore. other than that, he's just a silly little goofball... with a bit of a murderous streak in pvp games. he streams games very rarely. honestly, he cameos in oliver's streams more than he streams video game content. even so, his fans love it when he decides to collab with the other streamers within his circle. they especially love his dynamic with scara, as it's so obvious the two are close friends, but they're also always at each others' throats. sometimes childe's siblings will randomly enter his room as he's streaming, but his audience doesn't really mind. they find it rather adorable, actually!

lyney - in the beginning, people followed him for his flirty personality. they soon realized that he was also incredibly funny and entertaining too! his fans tend to like his collab streams the most due to the fact that he never has dull interactions with other people. lyney always has something witty to say, and it really shows when he's streaming with èlise. his chat is always intent on believing that there's no way he could get more flirty, but he always manages to prove them wrong when he's live with his beloved girlfriend. out of all the streamers in the group, lyney is spotted in public the most often, and he's always with èlise. fans are always surprised by the fact that he's the clingy one in the relationship. despite being the rizzler himself, lyney doesn't actually play dating sims often. instead, he opts to play mystery games. although he's not albedo level intelligent, lyney has proven that he's also a genius.

kaveh - respectfully, he is the most babygirl man that has ever lived. people were absolutely stunned the first time they saw him because wdym the dude who succumbs to gamer rage like every single stream just so happens to look like an absolute angel irl? they were even more shocked when he introduced his partner because they were even more gorgeous??? ever since that day, fans have been going crazy with the kavexis ship art. they're one of the most beloved couples in the group. like scara, kaveh's content is a nice mix of various genres. he has the brainpower to play logic-based games, but he also enjoys playing pvp games with his friends every once in a while (although if he's playing with scara, alexis and yui always ensure that they're in the game too to prevent any arguments).

albedo - the braincell-haver of the group. his intelligence never fails to amaze people. whenever albedo plays mystery games, he’s always one step ahead of his chat. every single one of his predictions ends up being true, and when chat asks how he figured it out, he explains in the nerdiest way possible. like ari, albedo will also do his chat’s homework questions (in fact, he’d have entire streams dedicated to tutoring). most of the time, he’s like a babysitter in group collabs. he’s always keeping scara, childe, and kaveh in check, and it’s become a huge meme in the fandom. on top of all that, he has a surprisingly lovely voice! albedo rarely releases music content, but whenever he covers a song, it always trends on social media. fans have been begging for an aribedo duet.

pspspsps @littlebluejayy, @kunix, @xlivr, @uinnea, @alekav, @i--luv--you (i hope it’s okay that i tagged you all)

#📸 — streamer au #💕 — spoken from the heart #🌸 — kazurei #🐈 — miao #⛅️ — scarayui #🫧 — chiliver #💍 — lynèl #🪽 — kavexis #💫 — aribedo

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anonymousewrites · 8 months

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One Hell of a Love (Book 2) Chapter Eleven

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter Eleven: One Hell of a Murder

Summary: In the aftermath of Sebastian's "death," more murder is discovered.

(Y/N) pretended to shudder in fear as Baldroy held them steady. Beside them, Finny and Mey-Rin cried, and the guests (excepting Phelps, but no one noticed that) looked on in horror at Sebastian’s “dead” body. So far, the acting had gone perfectly well. As long as (Y/N) continued to play the part of poor mourning maid, friend of the butler, everything would go well.

Ciel ran into the room, still in his nightclothes, standing beside Tanaka and Arthur. His eyes widened in similar panic as they landed on Sebastian, laying on his back in a pool of blood with a fire poker lodged in his chest. His acting was just as impressive as ever.

“Young Master!” cried Finny worriedly.

“Sebastian…?” Ciel paused before moving forward towards Sebastian.

Mey-Rin caught him. “No, stop! Young Master, you must not enter, not at all!”

“Let me go!” demanded Ciel.

“No, Young Master!” said Finny.

“Stay back!” Ciel pushed them away. “Don’t you dare order your master around!”

“Young Master…!” Tears streamed down Finny’s cheeks.

Ciel stood over Sebastian. “Sebastian, how much longer are you going to keep up this childish prank? Once again, I can’t imagine the floor makes for comfortable slumber.”

Ah, the part of the child in denial. Everyone will be too busy pitying him to question his performance, thought (Y/N).

“How much longer do you intend to feign sleep, hm?” said Ciel. “Can you not hear me? I’m telling you to get up.” He gritted his teeth and pulled the poker from Sebastian’s chest.

Ah, that’s got to be irritating. It always stings when it’s pulled out, thought (Y/N).

“Why you!” cried Ciel.

“My Lord!” warned Arthur.

“Sebastian!” Ciel grabbed the labels of Sebastian’s tailcoat. “You get up right now, you hear me?! I command you!” He slapped Sebastian when he didn’t move. “Did you fail to hear my command?! Who in the name of hell gave you permission to die?! I’ll never forgive you, Sebastian!” He raised his hand to hit Sebastian again. “Open your damn—!”

(Y/N) caught his arm. “Young Master. Please stop. We can’t take any more of this.” They pretended to sob, turning their face from Sebastian’s corpse. “It’s difficult enough…He’s already dead…”

Ciel pretended to tremble as he faced Sebastian. “Are you…really dead? Sebastian…You, my butler…You and you alone, who…who promised you would stay at my side until the very end—” He leaned over Sebastian body, and (Y/N) watched as he whispered a true order to Sebastian.

“The corpse will rot if we leave it here, so it would be a good idea to move it quickly,” said Grey coldly.

(Y/N) glanced at him, a slight coldness in their gaze. Sebastian may not be killable by something as simple as a human blade, but that didn’t mean they liked Grey trying to kill him. Unfortunately, Grey was the Queen’s butler, so for Sebastian and his Master’s sake, (Y/N) couldn’t retaliate. (If they could, (Y/N) would add Grey to the death toll at this banquet).

“…Yeah,” said Baldroy, nodding hesitantly.

“Come on, Young Master…” said Mey-Rin gently, pulling Ciel to his feet.

“No, let me go!” cried Ciel. “Don’t leave me behind, Sebastian! Sebastian! I command you! I command you…! I command you!”

Lau hummed as he watched the scene. “Committing this last murder would have been impossible for the confined Earl, hm?” The guests’ eyes turned to him, and Lau smirked. “This is all turning out to be very amusing indeed.”

(Y/N) quite agreed.

“Amusing?!” cried Grimsby. “Two people have been murdered in the space of one night!”

And Phelps is missing, noted (Y/N), but they would leave that to the humans.

“A-And he was killed in such a way…” Irene shivered as she stared at the bloodstained poker.

“Tell me about it. Runnin’ him through with a fireplace poker…was just too much…” agreed Baldroy.

(Y/N) turned into Mey-Rin, who comforted them during the reminder of what horrible sight they had walked in on.

Arthur examined the body. “There are signs of trauma to the head. He may have been struck from behind while stoking the fire.”

“And ‘cos that didn’t do him in, they finished him off with another blow to the chest, huh?” said Baldroy.

“Or maybe they didn’t wait to see if he was dead and instead attacked him twice in quick succession…” said Grey. “Rather than a single attack, two attacks would have been sure to kill him. How strange.”

You would know, thought (Y/N).

They rather liked the confusion on Grey’s face since it was clear that he had only attacked from the back with a hit to the head and a stab through the back, so he was confused about how Sebastian ended up with a stab to the chest. However…it also meant he would be suspicious. (Y/N) raised an eyebrow in clear view of Sebastian’s “vacant” eyes in a message to him saying: “You’ve really just made more problems for yourself, haven’t you?” Sebastian would have to run around quite a bit to deal with any of Grey’s suspicions (and (Y/N) would be probably dragged in, too).

Arthur paused beside the body and considered. “If he did not die from the blow to the back of his head, why did the murderer go to the trouble of stabbing him from the front?”

Because Sebastian was in a hurry and stabbed himself the wrong way, thought (Y/N).

“Yeah,” agreed Baldroy. “Normally you’d attack from the same direction if you’re attackin’ twice.”

“Then maybe there are multiple perpetrators,” said Arthur. “For example, who spoke to him from the front to catch his attention while the second snuck up from behind and bludgeoned him in the head. Then the one in front delivered the finishing blow without pause.”

(Y/N) had quickly landed on him as the most sensible human present.

“In any case, it is a fact that I sense not a shred of mercy or hesitation,” said Lau. “The culprit or culprits managed to kill that butler, so they must be very—”

“Please just stop now!” Finny’s voice cut through the discussion. He held Ciel tightly. It was kind of adorable and brotherly. “How could you talk like that when the Young Master’s right here…! Please consider the Young Master’s feelings!”

“Finny!” admonished Mey-Rin. She bowed. “P-Please excuse our rudeness, please do! We’re all a bit shaken, we are!” (Y/N) shivered and nodded to add to the excuse.

“Well…He does have a point,” said Grey. “We can stand around the corpse bandying theories about all we like, but it won’t get us anywhere. So let’s first carry this to the cellar. The discussion of the murderer’s identity and the like can be continued afterward, perhaps over a meal or something.

Woodley blanched. “How could you take this so leisurely!”

“You’re right. No good will come of rushing things!” chirped Lau.

“That’s that, then,” said Grey, turning to leave. “We’ll leave you servants to handle the disposal of that thing.”

Sebastian was really lucky (Y/N) respected his instructions so much since they really wanted to stab Grey through the chest with his own sword for treating Sebastian like a troublesome object.

Grey glanced back over his shoulder. “Oh, and have breakfast ready for us as well, hm?”

(Y/N) straightened and bowed. “Yes, sir.” They would play the part Sebastian asked of them. At least the situation was entertaining. The guests nodded and walked out of the room, not wanting to remain in the room with the corpse any longer.

“(Y/N), are you sure you don’t want to rest? After that scare, you must be shaken, you must,” said Mey-Rin.

(Y/N) put on a soft, shaky smile. “Sebastian would want me to do my job, especially in his absence…And so I will.”

“Oh, (Y/N)…” Mey-Rin’s gaze softened. She knew Sebastian and (Y/N) were close, so she worried for how this would hit (Y/N).

“Do as they say,” said Ciel. “Take Sebastian to the cellar. I apologize for losing my composure.”

“Not at all!” cried Mey-Rin.

“Young Master…” Finny gazed at Ciel in worry.

“Tanaka,” said Ciel.

“Yes, sir,” said Tanaka, in his full form.

“Sebastian is dead. You are my butler from this day forth,” said Ciel. “I entrust you with the management of the manor and the supervision of the servants. And this pin too…” He held out the bloody pin from Sebastian’s uniform. “I return to your keeping.”

“The pin of the head butler…this does bring back memories,” said Tanaka. (Y/N) could see the ages of service to the Phantomhive estate in his eyes and knew he’d do his job admirably. “Will an old man like me be equal to the duties, I wonder?”

“You need only do it until a replacement arrives,” said Ciel.

“As you wish, sir,” said Tanaka. “I shall by all means accept it.” He pinned it to his lapel and straightened. The old man Tanaka was gone, and the butler had returned, ready to perform for the Phantomhive household with familiar skill. He clapped his hands and addressed the staff. “Then let us first prepare for the morning baths. Mey-Rin, please see to the hot water. Finny, Baldroy, once you have moved Sebastian, please carry hot water to the Young Master’s bathroom. (Y/N), please see to it the guests are taken care of during breakfast.”

“Yes, sir,” said all four.

Tanaka turned to Ciel. “Young Master, you will catch cold if you stay dressed like that.. Let us first see to getting you a change of clothing. The head of the Phantomhive family must not be shaken by the death of a mere servant. The previous master was never once seen to be losing his composure over such a trigle.”

“You are strict as usual, old man,” said Ciel with some fondness.

Tanaka smiled before facing Arthur, the only guests who had remained in the room. “Professor. I sincerely apologize that such events have taken—.”

“No, no,” said Arthur. “He is far more in need of you than I…Please stay with the Earl.”

“I am deeply touched by your concern,” said Tanaka. “Now then, let us go, Young Master. You must not keep your guests waiting.”

The storm raged outside as the guests sat at the breakfast table in a tense silence. (Y/N) was once again reminded of human’s ease at being distracted by observing that no one had noticed Phelps’s absence. (Y/N) had a suspicion that somehow he wouldn’t be making it to breakfast, and even though that would mean there was a mystery that Sebastian hadn’t anticipated, they would clear that up quickly if needed.

“It’s a great help that (Y/N) and Sebastian took care of the meals in advance,” said Ciel in a subdued tone.

“Smells yummy! Let’s eat!” said Grey happily, quickly digging in.

Grimsby looked at Irene in concern. “What’s wrong, Irene? You’ve barely touched your plate.”

“I’m sorry,” said Irene. “I don’t have much of an appetite.”

Grey paused. “Hey, if that food’s gonna go to waste, can I help myself to it?”

Irene picked up her plate. “Yes, here yo—”

“No, not yours,” said Grey. He pointed lazily with his fork. “But the one next to you.”

“Eh?” Irene glanced to her side in confusion. “Oh…you are right. There is an extra place here. Did the chef prepare one too many?”

“(Y/N) and Sebastian prepared breakfast,” said Ciel. He looked at (Y/N).

They straightened. “We ensure there was a plate for every guest, my Lord.”

“Eh? Then whose is it?” said Lau.

“Everyone is present and—oh!” exclaimed Irene. “Mr. Phelps is missing!”

It took them all long enough, thought (Y/N).

“You’re right. I failed to notice because he doesn’t have much of a presence,” chuckled Lau.

“Now that you mentioned it, I haven’t seen him all morning,” said Grimsby.

“It seems he’s really sleeping it!” said Woodley with a laugh.

Arthur stood up. “If I may!” He looked serious. “What do you say we go look in the Earl’s bedroom?” He was the only one who knew that after two deaths it was necessary to check on everyone’s wellbeing and not assume anything. Really, he was the only sensible one there.

Ciel stood. “I’ll show you the way.”

The solemn exchanged caught the rest of the party’s attention, and shivers ran down their spines. It was clear what Arthur was worried for.

The group ran through the halls of the manor until they came upon Ciel’s bedroom, which Phelps was sleeping in since Ciel and Arthur had stayed in his. Arthur banged on the doors.

“Mr. Phelps! Mr. Phelps! Please respond if you’re there!” he called. Nothing. He tried the door handle, but it was locked. “The lock, it’s—! My Lord, where is the key?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Ciel.

“Eh?!” exclaimed the group.

“Sebastian is the keeper of the key to my room, and only he knows where it’s stored,” said Ciel. “Now that he’s dead, even I couldn’t tell you where to find it.”

(Y/N) stepped forward. “Young Master, if I may, I can break the doors.”

“Move.” Grey acted before Ciel could give any directions. With a long swing of his sword, he cut through the doors. The pieces fell to the ground, and everyone stared at him as he held his breakfast plate in one hand with a bored expression. “Let’s take care of this quick, okay? I haven’t had my dessert yet.”

“Mr. Phelps!” called Arthur as he led the group into the room.

They turned into the bedroom of Ciel’s quarters. Arthur’s eyes widened. Irene let out a horrified gasp. Woodley and Grimsby grimaced and stepped back. Grey’s eyes were wide. The servants let out a breath.

Phelps lay on the ground, clutching the carpet with foam on his lips, his face one of struggle and pain.

He was dead.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow behind the group. Their nose twitched. Now this was an unanticipated development.

“How?” said Ciel.

Arthur knelt by the body, getting to work. “Quite some time has passed since rigor mortis set it.”

“Are we all having a bad dream or something…?” murmured Grimsby.

“There is no external trauma as in the other two,” said Athur. His eyes narrowed as he found a mark on Phelps’s neck. “He has what appears to be puncture wounds in the neck! Perhaps he was injected with poison from a needle or the like.”

“A needle?” Ciel narrowed his eyes.

(Y/N) peered at the marks. Looks like snake bite to me. But far be it for me to ruin the mortals’ fun.

“Oh, I say! Lord Earl lives in the most wonderful room!” To the side, Lau and Ran-Mao were rummaging through Ciel’s closet.

“Don’t rummage around someone else’s quarters as you please!” said Ciel, an irk mark appearing.

Lau chuckled as he pulled out a Chinese dress. “You’ve held on to the dress I gave you! Have you worn it?”

“I most certainly have not!” cried Ciel indignantly. Lau had given him it after the undercover investigation during the Jack the Ripper case, and Ciel hadn’t been able to live it down, yet.

Arthur continued and regained the focus of the group. “The marks could also be said to resemble the tooth marks of some beast or other.”

(Y/N) nodded in agreement.

“Bite marks on the neck…Brings to mind Carmilla, doesn’t it?” murmured Irene.

“By that are you referring to Le Fanu’s vampiric Carmilla?” said Ciel.

(Y/N) clicked their tongue. Vampires. Terrible little creatures.

“Yes, are you familiar with it?” said Irene.

Woodley scoffed. “So you’re saying he was killed by a vampire?! Preposterous!”

Woodley was correct in that regard. With two demons in the household, a vampire wouldn’t dare approach the manor.

“Such occult and unscientific occurrences have no place in the nineteenth century!” continued Woodley.

There he was not correct.

“2:38 am,” said Arthur, gazing at the broken clock that had been knocked from the side table of Ciel’s bed.

“That would be the clock I kept at my bedside,” confirmed Ciel.

“He likely dropped it amidst his throes of agony. It’s broken,” said Arthur.

“Which would mean that Mr. Phelps died around 2:38?” said Ciel.

“Yes,” said Arthur.

“Say!” chirped Lau from in Ciel’s bathroom, still going through his things. “Instead of standing here holding court, why don’t we go sit down and think the situation through? Over a nice cup of tea, perhaps?

“…Quite right,” said Ciel. “Tanaka, show our guests to the drawing room. (Y/N), prepare the tea.”

“Yes, my Lord,” said (Y/N).

“Very good, sir,” said Tanaka.

Taglist:

@technikerin23

@im-making-an-effort

@izzieg3987

@jinxxangel13

@alexpangender

@otomyoli

@neenieweenie

@nex-crowley

@anxious-chick

@bellacastiel

@v1l-ismissing

@agentdedf1sh

@idkhowtoplayhoyoversegames

@iamsexytrash

@oceansfloor

#one hell of a love #x reader #x gn reader #gn reader #x nb reader #nb reader #demon!reader #demon reader #sebastian x demon!reader #black butler sebastian #sebastian x reader #sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian michaelis #black butler fic #black butler ciel #black butler #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji x reader #black butler x reader

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slashingdisneypasta · 10 months

Text

Freddy Krueger x Fem!Reader || Oneshot [PART 2]

Notes:

This is the sequel, to this Oneshot!: Freddy Krueger x Fem!Reader || Oneshot

Plot: (Set in the Horror House, a year after the first Part)

After they were forced to 'come out', Y/N soon breaks it (Whatever 'it' was) off from Freddy, because things started getting weird with her and everyone else. They started thinking less of her, and it hurt, and Jason wouldn't even look at her anymore- and that hurt even more.

But will anyone else measure up? Will anyone else fit her as well?

Warnings: Sexual themes right off the bat (Much more than the last one). Not full-on smut, but ya know, lots of talk- and the actual actions are with Bo, mostly.

Previously:

“Princess… Daddy’s arm’s gettin’ tired.”

Your eyes widen and relax again at the terminology, turning back to Freddy, taking a deep breath. Well in that case…

You tilt your head and lean up, connecting your lips in a soft kiss- which he immediately takes up a level and makes it a rough one. You like how his hat kind of makes you feel disguised and protected, you like how, kind of ironically, he really is quite a good kisser, and you like the roughness. You just really like kissing him.

And maybe that’s why you got a little lost and it lasted a bit long and…

Chucky saw.

“Oh so you two are finally coming out? Fuck, and here I was having a good time torturing you.”

Your eyes snap open and you pull back, lips a little tingly but not caring as you look to the side and down to the damn doll and feel like your entire world explodes.

His voice was loud, and various villains in the room - Jennifer, Billy and Stu, Michael, Jason, - are looking at you with big, round eyed expressions on their faces (Well, the ones you can see anyway).

…

As you chew on the inside of your cheek and wonder what you could possibly say, Freddy - his dramatic ass, - points offendedly at Chucky, says ‘And to you sir, I say bah humbug!’ and then stomps off the other way- retreating. You double take after him. Can you… can you follow and hide? Or do you have to stay?-

Before you have to make the decision, he comes back, grabs your arm, and drags you back the way he was going along with him.

Current Time

"Bo... "

...

"Bo!... "

...

"... fuck... "

The room is relaxing and dark, the world is quiet around you; everyone else in the house being fast asleep.

Your fingers entangle themselves into Bo's hair, your hips lifting up off the mattress and your back arching under the sheets where he's nestled, between your parted thighs. Your cheeks are hot, and your hair is strewn out around you and over your face, and your breathing is heavy yet your words come out entirely breathless. Or- word; Singular. "Bo... Bo, Bo, Bo, B- "

Suddenly the man under the sheet does something that is apparently too much for you, and this time your breath hitches in your throat and you're so close to finishing, when-

"Not quite sweetheart."

"JESUS fuck- "

"-ing christ!" You whisper-shriek, as your eyes blow wide open and you jump up into a sitting position in the bed, throwing the doona and the sheets up to make sure you're alone- then peaking at the sleeping man beside you to make sure it was, in fact, BO. When you determined that it definitely is, you turn to your bedside table and pick up the prescription bottle sitting there; Squinting at the label as you just try to calm down your heart. Its beating erratically in your chest, like it’s trying to get out. And you don’t blame it! Not after that- God, how Bo didn’t wake up when you screamed, you have no idea. Man must sleep like the absolute dead.

Hypnocil is clearly printed on the bottle, and you took 2 as instructed before you went to bed, you know you did, so he shouldn't have been able to get in like that!

But he was. It was definitely him.

And you are pissed.

What are these??! Tic Tac's!?

Once you've gathered your bearings a little more, a moment later, you slam the stupid bottle back down on the bedside table and throw the blankets off of you- getting out of bed, dragging an over-sized hoodie on, you storm out of the room and down the hall. God, you should’ve known something fishy was up- Bo doesn’t put his mouth anywhere near down there.

When you get to Freddy's room you don't bother knocking, flinging it open and not caring that it’s an invasion of privacy or that you aren't wearing pants- he more than invaded your privacy 2 minutes ago! You look around, identify a stack of magazines on the dresser beside you, pick up one of the heavier ones, roll it up and promptly fling it at the carcass sprawled peacefully on the bed- that instantly flies up and falls off the other side of the bed at being disturbed in such a shocking and sudden fashion. "Fuck!- "

"Stay out of my head, you creep!"

"Ughh... creep?” Disoriented and getting hit with another magazine - this time to the face, as he tries to get up, causing him to just stay behind the bed this time, -, Freddy still manages to come up with something obnoxious to say to you. “Last time I checked, you liked that about me... "

A growl escapes you, frustrated and violated, and you pick up two magazines this time, roll them up together, and fling the make-shift missile directly at his head.

“Hmmm… “Twisting his face in an unamused sort of way, which make you want to throttle him, Freddy looks around on the floor on his side of the room. “Hey, I don’t have a white flag to waive- will these do?”

When a crumpled pair of white boxers come flying, you but wack them out of the way. Too pissed to be disgusted- and, honestly, besides! You’ve seen, touched, been apart of a lot worse when it comes to him. Oh… your stomach rolls at the memory. “I’ve been taking Hypnocil, you fuck! How did you- “

“What?” That seems to catch Freddy’s attention, as he looks up at you again. His eyes narrow. “How did I what?”

“Get in my dreams! I just wanna be free of you!- I thought Hypnocil was supposed to work!?”

Freddy just stares for a few moments, lost in thought… before his eyes slowly widen and an evil smirk spread across his ugly mug. “Hypnocil does work… it blocks me from getting in… I didn’t do anything to you. Which means,” Suddenly he gets up, rounds the bed and comes after you. You’re listening to his words, and slowly coming to the same horrifying conclusion; Eyes wide as you avert your gaze. No… No! No way- “Unless some other demon is after you, which is unlikely,.. you dreamt about me all on your little own.” There’s a definite mischievous tone in his voice and you fight not to hide your face. Because… fuck.

Did you?- No… No-

Absolutely not. No.

“Uhhh… “Coming down from your anger-high, now mortified for a different reason, you talk quietly under his revealing gaze- though you don’t look up to meet it. You don’t do that, anymore. Not ever. “Oh… “Your mind is racing. You couldn’t… you’re happy with Bo… you don’t need Freddy. Why would you- “Uh… “ God, why did you dream that!? Shit- “Sorry… for… bothering you, then… “

You back up with little steps, towards the exit, because you’re just now realising, you’re alone in a room with Freddy, and you… you can’t do that anymore. Not in any room, much less one with a bed. Because now that the realisation has dawned on you that he did not in fact sexually assault you, and nothing has changed between the two of you actually, you’re remembering what a damn sucker you are for him and how you can’t be anymore. How its not allowed. And you have put rules in place to help yourself.

And this situation definitely breaks a couple of those rules.

Wanting to facepalm, you very nearly groan at yourself. Shit.

“So… out of curiosity,” He takes another of those careful steps towards you and you look quickly towards the door; Heart beating too-fast inside your chest. “What did I do in this dream? You seemed pretty… shaken.” The grin is audible through his voice, and you flee immediately for the door; Hand on the knob.

“Nothing happened, forget about it, stop grilling me!” You exclaim desperately, yank at the door; Forgetting to twist it. Jesus christ Y/N, come on. Pull yourself together. This might as well be life or death.

He chuckles behind you, the sound closer than you thought. Spiders creep up your spine and you can’t help but grip the knob harder, like it’s your lifeline. Or self-control. “Interesting choice of words… Come on, tell me what happened.”

Blades slide over your shoulder, and you actually let out a yelp, flinging the door open finally and pulling it shut behind you immediately to the sound of his obnoxiously loud laughter. You collapse against the door and just try to calm your racing heartbeat, pressing the back of your head hard into the wood. You stay until the sound of Fredy’s laughter dies down.

Tiffany walks by you then, a toasted cheese sandwich in her hand to curb her midnight munchies. She stops in front of you, and you raise a brow down at her. “… Yes?”

Tiff is the only one in this house, including you, that thinks you being with Bo now makes zero sense. She holds the belief, probably because of her own less-than-typical relationship, that you’ve gone from ‘platinum to bronze’- Bo’s handsome, she’d told you before, but that burnt shit has something else. And that’s important- mark my words, honey. You’ll miss it before long when all you get from Bo are shitty handjobs and wall-quickies. You had laughed, then, but you know by the way she’s looking at you now that she knows your opinion, consciously or not, has changed. “Detox harder than you thought, sweetie?”

You just glare at the doll.

The next morning, after you had snuggled back into bed with Bo and managed to catch some uninterrupted sleep, and Bo left before you woke up to deal with Lester - he grunted something about mud and that’s all you needed to know, -, you find yourself sitting up at the kitchen table with Jennifer- sorting out phone numbers from the bottom of her purse and drinking the high fibre salad drink she sips so elegantly.

The two of you have 3 piles. The ‘Done’ pile - boy’s who are dead now, -, the ‘To Be Determined’ pile - Boy’s Jennifer thinks might be closeted gay’s and so would never work for her, - and the ‘Call Back’ pile, obviously. That one is looking slim, though, unfortunately; The Done pile being the biggest.

“Uhh, wh-what do we do with a number we can’t understand?” Carrie asks, looking troubled at a ripped piece of a business card. You lean towards her and peer around at the number, and find you can’t make out the crazy scribble, either.

Jennifer plucks it from Carrie’s finger’s and drops it on the ‘Call Back’ pile. “Doctor. I know where he works.”

Tiffany walks in not-too-long later, Chucky breaking off from her and heading to the living room. She sits down beside you, making you nervous and scootch a little closer to Carrie on your either side- practically half off the chair. For a good minute Tiff lets the obvious nervous energy surge between the two of you, causing Carrie and Jennifer to exchange concerned looks, wondering what has happened. Finally, Tiffany breathes in but you’re ready and before she can make even a word come out, you blurt out what you thought would be a good distraction. “So Tiff!! How was your toasted cheese last night??”

Jennifer screws up her nose. What?

“How was yours??” She shoots back, pointedly. Annnd, right. You think. Of course. That backfired. Damn.

You turn to her anyway and glare, sternly. “I didn’t have any.”

“So you just look that much like a frazzled squirrel monkey on a regular?” She blinks back, innocently.

“Look, Miss Sex Therapist,” You start, putting an elbow on the table between the two of you and trying to make out like you could be in any way intimidating to her. “Don’t you think if you could tell what I look like after I get fucked, you woulda found out about Freddy and me a long time ago? Like, months? Your insane husband figured it out and started acting like a cruel freak about it, and you still didn’t know!” At that she just looks bemusedly at you, a tiny grin quirking at her black lips. Your narrow your eyes- wait did she know the whole time?? When Tiffany breaks out into a full smile and looks away, you literally gasp. “You did know!!?”

Putting the pieces together on what this inane conversation is about, Jennifer gives her own gasp. “Wait- you knew Y/N was banging that burnt turd and you didn’t tell anyone?? We could’ve started damage repair way sooner!”

“I wasn’t about to ruin her fun.” Tiffany smirks, sifting through the ‘To Be Determined’ pile.

Carrie looks wide eyed. “Should I be listening to this??”

“Hey, you didn’t do anything.” Jenniferassures her, looking crossly at you and Tiffany. “You aren’t the one that let yourself be defiled- or kept it a secret!”

At that, you can’t help but laugh. “Defiled?? Jen, you’re literally a Succubus demon- If I’m going to hell,” Which you doubt. Just because you had the dreaded premarital sex? No. Jen has been spending too much time with Jason and Mrs Voorhees. “You already have a backstage pass.”

“Yeah,” Tiff agrees, beside you. “And that ship has sailed, for me too. A long time ago.”

Jennifer just makes a frustrated ‘Ugh’ sound. “Whatever.”

“I don’t think you’ll go to hell… “Carrie pipes up again, a tiny wonky smile flickering at her face. You smile, going to say thank you my only sweet friend, when she continues. “I don’t think anyone goes to hell because of who they fall in love with.”

The words die in your throat, immediately. Love? God, you feel like that word should be censored, suddenly. He could hear you Carrie!! She’s looking at you, though, waiting for an answer as you just stare back like a deer caught in headlights. And Jennifer is looking at you too, her arms crossed and a pert look on her face like she’s daring you to respond, and Tiffany, too- A look of encouragement on hers.

You’re just opening your mouth to say something, when the bastard in question actually walks into the kitchen - impeccable timing, honestly, - and both yours and Carrie eyes widen. You slump in your seat and hide the bottom half of your face in the collar of your hoodie, eyes downcast acting like suddenly Jennifer’s phone number tirade is something you’re really quite fascinated with- but you can’t focus on the numbers and just stare at them. Hold on, is that a seven or a four?? How many doctors has this girl got up her sleeve- can I have one? As you narrow your eyes at the napkin in your hands, Freddy smirks at you- but you don’t notice.

The other three more calmly return to a normal, like they hadn’t just been discussing him, and Tiffany even says good morning- whereas Jennifer shows him the iciest cold shoulder in the world. While Tiffany and her start discussing their plans for the day, Freddy comes up behind Carrie and slowly reaches his blades out close over her head and face, causing her to freeze.

You glance up from the number, see this, look back down, then do a double take. “-Hey!”

“Ohh, what? She’s not hurt.” Freddy teases, a devilish grin on his evil face. You narrow your eyes back at him, giving a powerful greasy that he doesn’t even have the decency to look bothered by as he returns his attention back to the little blonde bellow him- the blades landing on her shoulder. She jumps. “Carrie are you hurt?~” Jennifer rolls her eyes deeply and Tiffany gives a great sigh. “… Scared?” Carrie shifts in her seat, dragging her shoulder forward causing Freddy’s glove to fall off her as he returns his smirk to you.

Smirking back now, you point at him. “… I know something you don’t want Chucky to know.”

Freddy’s face instantly falls. He glares. “Chucky isn’t here.”

“Tiff is, though.”

At this point Freddy totally withdraws from Carrie, rounding the table to lean over you. Meanwhile Jen turns to Tiffany, mouthing ‘What did I tell her about eye-fucking?’- You don’t see that, though. You’re too busy putting Freddy in his place- an endeavour that you are, admittedly, quite good at. “Well if you tell her, I’ll just have to tell everyone all your dirty little secrets, wont I?”

Cockily, you shrug with a smug, airy smirk. “And what are these terrible secrets? I’m an open book.” Well, as far as the rest of the house thinks- you are. Stu and Jason took one look at you with Freddy and thought they knew everything about you. That you’re a whore- you’re easy- which is the whole reason you’re in this stupid, hard ‘detox’ mess to begin with.

He only seems to get happier, dropping his arm down on the table beside you and leaning in- over dramatic as usual. “Are you sure about that??... ”

Okay he’s got you thinking. “… Yeah?... I mean… I- I was with you, so… surely most of my kinks are self-explanatory… “Surely. SURELY!! And yet your mind is racing, trying to think of anything embarrassing he knows that you wouldn’t want anyone else to find ou-

“Okay then.” Theirs a terrible smirk on Freddy’s face as he gets up again, leaning both hands on the table and looking way-too-pleased at each of the other women- and suddenly you remember.

No. No!-

Purely to torture you he takes a deep breath before saying a damn thing, and that’s enough time for you to jump up, grab his sleeve and drag him out of the kitchen- all to the sound of horrible, smoky laughter. He’s still laughing when you shut the door in his face.

Then you take a deep breath and compose yourself, leaning against the door. You can’t let him get to you like that, you know it. It’s just so terribly easy to lose yourself in the person you are with him… because, admittedly, you really like that person… they can stand up for themselves and that has never come so easily to you before.

But, you sigh, taking your seat again at the kitchen table with the others who began talking among themselves again as soon as you yanked Freddy out of the room. You’re just going to have to find another way to be like that- because that particular rout is out of the question, forever and always.

No argument.

Freddy’s POV now:

As soon as the door clicks shut behind her I start to glare. I could so close… I could smell gas in her hair… Growling from the back of my throat, I turn away from the kitchen and head to the living room. Out the window I can see Coverall’s Redux layin’ under a car, getting even more gas on his hands to clean off in Y/N’s hair… For just a second, I think about how pretty his brains would look splattered all over the car port, my hands on the wheel and my boot on the gas pedal… I catch sight of the cabbage patch kid giving me a weird look, and raise my eyebrow at him. “What?”

“That’s crazy face you got there. Not that you’re not always funny-looking, don’t get me wrong. But what’s on your mind?”

“… How hard I’d have to kick for you to fit in the garbage disposal. The sound… would you make more a crunch sound or a clatter?... Mm, let’s give it a try~ ”

“Hey hey hey!... “Chucky raises his hands by his head, giving me some of the fakest wide-eyes I’ve ever seen on that fucked up, mangled, twisted doll-face. “Watch your fucken self.”

I just roll my eyes and sit down on the couch, back to the window. “Gimmie the remote, jackass.” Whatever, I think, as I snatch the remote right out of his tiny child-hands. I shouldn’t bother with the pathetic b-level slasher outside, anyway. I have bigger fish to fry… Elm street kids~ Mm, my favourite.

… He can do whatever the hell he likes with her fucken hair.

Your POV Again:

After the day’s insanity (It is never boring here. … Never. Not for an hour. … God, you wish it could be boring for a day or even just an hour around here!!) you’re plopped on the couch with your legs in Bo’s lap and an old atlas in your lap; Just flipping through, trying to ignore the sound of Michael’s TV blaring in front of you all. He always has the volume up as high as it can go, and right now he’s watching Formula 1!- its loud, to say the least.

You’re just exploring the streets of Cuba when Bo taps your shin with the tips of his fingers, catching your attention. Flashing him a small smile, you tilt your head to the side; Silently asking him what’s up?

“I think we gotta talk.” His voice cuts through Michael’s Formula 1, thankfully, but you’re a little nervous by his tone,.. You think back to Oliver, a guy that dated last year, and how he sounded exactly the same way- just before he told you that he loved you.

Eugh. You wince, and almost shiver, thinking about it.

“Okay… What about?”

“I wanna take ya home, little girl.”

“You- “Suddenly Michael switches the TV promptly off, and turns to you and Bo; Nothing-at-all subtle about it. Your mouth falls open, about to ask him what exactly he’s looking at, like excuse me sir- But Bo is not done with you. This is, apparently, a very important talk for him. You close your mouth, give Michael a look (To which he does nothing, just pulls the lever that makes his armchair suddenly pop out and recline), and turn slowly back to Bo. “Sorry, uh, you mean- you mean Ambrose??”

The immediately gives you a bad feeling. Like, the cringe. Like, you’ve been dating for months now but it’s still way too soon for this. You are not the kind of girl that goes ‘home’. You are not a promise ring, meet-the-family, always and forever kind of girl. At least not now! Slow down-

“Yeah, that’s what I mean.” You glance to Michael, but he’s not even a lick of help, so you look back to Bo. “I wanna show you where I grew up.” Now you look around the rest of the room, but for once there is absolutely no one else around. For gods sake, of all times to get some privacy around here- You look back to Bo again; Looking attentive when really your mind is looking for the fastest ride a million miles from here. He doesn’t seem to have picked up on your squirrelly, ‘deer in headlights’ reaction, because he has that hot, country boy smirk on his face that almost make you weak. Almost makes your knees buckle. Almost makes you feel something. Almost. “Willya let me?” Well- … You almost would!

The atmosphere is so thick with tension that Michael suddenly slipping a straw under his mask and making a SLEURPsound at the volume of a jet engine absolutely make you jump. “… Um- “Michael stop sipping that coke, or so help me- “Well- “God, this never would have happened if you were still with-

“Yeah?... “

“… Okay Bo, here’s the thing, um, I don’t think this going to work… “

The next morning, Bo and his brothers are gone. Their stuff, their dog, their truck- everything. You’re asking about at the kitchen bench during breakfast, but you just give a helpless shrug over a steamy cup of coffee filled with sugar. You don’t really want to talk about it…

Quickly, you find Michael at the kitchen table. He’s perked up like a dog, looking at you, and you quickly squint at him. Like no. Tell them nothing. Michael, I swear-

Slowly, he tilts his head to the side at you; Pushing your buttons.

You turn your head too, giving him a threatening look. Like don’t you dare…

Tiffany, Jennifer, Stu, Billy, Freddy, Jason, Chucky and Carrie are all clumped together in the little kitchen as well and they watch this little, ongoing silent argument to the death; Some with amused chuckles, some looking baffled, some with their faces full of eggs.

When Tiffany finally sighs, and asks again about Bo and the others- Michael bolts for the fridge and the notepad on there. You flash across the kitchen after him, still begging him not to, but he writes on the notepad as if you’re not even there. You don’t bother him. You’re just a fly to Michael Myers.

Goddamn him.

When he’s done, having written ‘Y/N broke up with him’ on it as explanation, he puts the notepad and the pencil that goes with it back on the fridge and vacates the room.

Va- Leaves the room!! He doesn’t even care to see the disaster he’s created! Your mouth falls open, seriously considering chasing after the gremlin (Should never have fed him after midnight), but before you can even take a step- Freddy reaches you and grabs your arm and stops you from leaving. Hey, hey, hey-

“What?? What happened???” Tiffany asks immediately, a note of concern in her voice.

“What!?” Jennifer snaps, as you unlock Freddy’s fingers from your arm and throw his hand away. “Why the hell would you do that!? Oh I swear to god Y/N, if it was because of Krueger, I’ll- ” As soon as this comes out of Jennifer’s mouth, Jason looks towards the door- and- no. You’ve finally gotten him to start looking at you again! Quickly, you shut that down.

“No, it wasn’t.” … no… it wasn’t…

“So what you’re saying is you’re on the market again?~” Stu (Who has had it in his head since the climactic point of last years Christmas party that you're easy- ) asks, sticking out his tongue. Your mouth falls open once again, ready to tell him that no, you’re not on the market; you’re not fresh fish- but there are others who have things to say. Of course.

About your love life. Of course.

After all, why wouldn’t they? (ㆆ_ㆆ)

Billy sighs, setting down his own cup of coffee. He’s just trying to wake up, here. “Were you mean to this one, too?”

“Too???” You ask, baffled. “If you are talking about Oliver, that was not my fault! I didn’t know he was a cry baby- “Hopelessly, you search for an excuse for that phone call everyone heard. “it- it wasn’t on his profile- “

“She was mean.” Chucky pipes up, unhelpfully. He’s not really paying attention either, but he’s not one to let up a chance to pick on someone. “Oh don’t worry, doll, some of us are into that.” I’m about to be really mean, to you, Chucky-

“What happened?” Carrie finally speaks up, tilting her head. “Are you okay?”

Immediately your tone gets warm, responding to Carrie. “I’m fine- “

“The mean one’s always fine.” Freddy purrs, and you whirl on him with the mommy finger. Hush, you. When he backs up and shrugs, smirking, you promptly turn back to Carrie. Yeah yeah yeah, smirk all you like mr, just don’t speak.

“I’m fine, but ah… I just… had to let him go. He… wanted to take me home to Ambrose. And- I wasn’t ready for that.” You shrug.

You almost forgot anyone else was in the room except you and Carrie (And Freddy), so when Tiffany groans loudly and Chucky cackles, you give a little jump. Oh- right- Oh no-

“ -after 6 months!?”

“Fucks sake.”

“You’re never gonna find anyone.”

“Hopeless.”

Time Skip

The Christmas party this year a week later is at least less eventful than last year, you think, sitting with Carrie and Jerry at the non-drinkers table. Drayton was here, too, but he ran away to yell at someone… you’re not quite sure where he is now but you can hear him very faintly through the walls… You sort of wonder if Jason didn’t shove him in a cabinet somewhere.

Don’t get it twisted- it has still been eventful; Pennywise put whipped cream on absolutely everything including Chucky, Bubba tried to use the TV and accidentally set it to the porn channel (Jason turned it off and chucked the TV out the second story window after that. Michael was very upset), the twins crowned Freddy the Ugly Christmas Sweater King (Actually crowned him. You didn’t want to ask what the crown was made of, but it growled), and Hannibal and Pam had a very intense argument about how to properly prepare broccoli with cheese… but all-in-all, considering there haven’t been any casualties… just an old man lost in the walls… you’d say this has been a pretty mellow Christmas.

“Oookay,” You set down your red cup of lemonade, finally, and turn to Carrie. “I’m gonna go to bed, before Chucky and Tiffany start to make out on the dinner table.”

Carrie looks alarmed. “They did do that last year, didn’t they???”

“Wanna come?”

“Yes please.”

You giggle, getting up. “Let’s go. G’night, Jerr- “

Suddenly Chop Top goes flying by, chased by what was a crown (Now, possibly a racoon?) with a familiar fedora in its teeth, and Freddy chasing after it.

"... yes, definitely time to call it a night." You quickly turn, climbing out of your plastic chair.

"Yes."

Jerry gets up too, escaping his own chair with unjust grace. "Yes- "

After Jerry bid you both goodnight and you left Carrie at her room, you head towards your own around the corner. As soon as you turn that corner, though, you consider whipping right back around and getting into bed with Carrie.

Because- just- looking at Freddy leant on your door with his hat (Which has some chunks bitten out of it, now. And probably racoon rabies) tipped over his eyes like some Ohio cowboy, you just... want to run away. Or kick him. Why-

... Jerry walked right by here, to get to his room, you realise as you stand at the end of the hall... and silently curse him. That bastard-

"You just going to stand there all day princess or face me?"

"... " You open your mouth to reply, something snarky about sleeping in Jason's room tonight, or on the couch, or Drayton's van, but you're too tired- or you cant be bothered,.. or maybe because he called you princess, but-

Whichever one it was, you instead just sigh and approach- shooing him off your door and opening it. "I don't know what you're talking about." You shrug, chucking your Santa hat at your dresser. He follows you in and closes the door, but its so second nature even a year later that you don't really think much of it. "I'm in my room! All good... " And you maybe like it when he's there with you; Maybe you get a little buzzed. But we'll go with the second nature, thing. Less drama.

"Hmmm... you know what I'm talkin about... " You're just taking a drink out of your water bottle, any reason to not focus on Freddy, he comes up behind you. Miraculously he manages to not touch you (Something he has seemed to have a real issue with, you've noticed.) but he's that creepy 'too close' that is his signature. As soon as he speaks next, you almost choke realising he's that close to you again and jump, turning his way and stepping backwards. "You feel like tellin' Old Freddy the truth about what happened with your little boyfriend?~ Cuz some things are not adding up and I think I'm gonna like the answers, huh?"

"I told you, I - It wasn't- I just didn't like him enough, is that a crime?? Mind your own beeswax."

He makes a loud 'Err' sound. "Wrong answer. Try again." Your jaw drops open.

"... To which part!??"

"Okay. Let me give this a try for you, hm? Daddy'll figure this out for you, so don't worry your pretty little head, hm?" Freddy starts to prowl towards you again, and you try to back up!- but of course your back connects with a wall and you're stuck there like a trapped animal. Wha- you look around for an escape- hold on- your wide eyes land on him again. There's such a serious look on his face- Why- "Mommy's boy tries to get closer to you, asks you to go home with him, tries to make an honest bitch out of you, yeah?... You realise hold on- hold on-... I'm not havin' as good a time as I had before,.. Time to cut and run." Your heart is beating out of your chest, now looking up at him as he leans over you.

... Defiant, you open your mouth again to stop him- but he is not done. He holds a finger-knife up in front of your face and his voice gets impossibly rougher and you immediately close your mouth again. " -And then there's that dream you had about me last week... " That same blade falls forward now, towards you. A grin slips across his face. "That's the part I'm stuck on, sweetheart. Gonna need a little help, there."

Oh- "Nothing happened in that dream, Freddy!- "

"Defensive... It must have been good, huh?~ Too bad it wasn't one of mine- "

"Fine!" God- your cheeks are hot, your forehead is hot, your neck is hot, your ears are hot, you cant take anymore! He smirks and stays quiet while you talk. He's quiet... but the look on his face is obnoxiously loud. "Fine, you've got it. You know exactly what happened with Bo. He wasn't you. He wanted more of me then then I could ever give him, more then I ever wanted to give anyone, all that you never asked me for. And- he didn't do that tongue thing. There! That's everything, what- what- what now?- what do you- "

When Freddy's mouth crashes down onto yours the tension from a year is broken, and you're too worked up to talk sense into yourself. And you don't want to. You bunch your fists in his sweater and he fists your t-shirt to hold you against him (So you cant get away), and you crane your neck and feel the brim of his hat against your forehead again, and the tongue thing, and-

He takes it away again. Goddamnit, you want to curse at this man- "You're mine again now, understand? And don't tell a soul, this time... "

"... -Hey, oy!" Jabbing him in the chest, you give him a frown. "I am not the one who blew it the last time."

"... uh, no- "

"You wanted to kiss me so bad, you couldn't wait til later." A little grin slips across your face.

Freddy's avoiding eye contact, now. "That's not how I remember it... "

"That old mistletoe trick!- "

"Nope, I don't remember that at all." He grins back, and you roll your eyes at him.

"Lies."

"No lie, sugar."

You're almost forget the real problem here, but the realisation dawns on you. He wants to keep it a secret again??... Eyes downcast, you worry your bottom lip as you think... But- "... But- uh- isn't that kind of anti-productive??"

"Mmm... But the alternative is... well~ " Eyes flicking back upwards you catch the absolute dirtiest grin on his mouth and you groan; face hot again. No, don't- "Not that tongue thing, thats for sure~~ "

"Wh- No- "Weakly, you let go of him. Damnit it has a point, though- "Ughhhhhhh, that's it, out! Out, get away from me- " You try to slip around him and open the door so he can leave you to be mortified alone- but he catches your wrist and pulls you back.

You stumble immediately, and recover your dignity without missing a beat- by pressing your lips to his before he can say a word.

#you can really see the improvement of quality between the last one and this one 😅 (i think anyway) thats good! ^^#i do feel like i sacrifice comedy chops every time my writing gets better though /:#Freddy Krueger x Reader Oneshot #Freddy Krueger x Reader #Freddy Krueger #Horror House!AU #Horror House! AU #Horror House AU #Horror Villains #Slashers #the ending gave me a HEADACHE.

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slasher-male-wife · 2 years

Text

Slashers with an S/O who has a big dog

I am an avid lover of big dogs. I am allergic to some unfortunatly but I do have two big guys of my own. I really want a big dog when I live on my own too. Like a newfoundland if I have the space or at least one I’m not allergic to. Anyway I’ve been playing with this idea for awhile and I think it’s time I write it. I will make another version of this where their s/o has a cat. I hope you enjoy. For convince Saint Bernard, also maybe because my dogs are a Saint Bernard mix.

Includes: The Sawyer brothers, poly Billy Loomis and Stu Macher, and the Sinclair brothers because I can’t get over how much I love them

Warnings: It’s implied the dog eats human meat in the Sawyer brothers section

The Sawyer brothers

You’d first find a big dog eating scraps of meat out by the gas station. It doesn’t have a collar so you assume it must be a stray. It was really friendly and you practically begged Drayton to let you keep it. He refused until you wore him down.

“You’ll be the one paying for everything if you keep that damn mutt.”

After going into town and getting everything you needed you brought it home to the other brothers and Bubba was pretty scared at first. He’s never really been around dogs let alone ones as big as that one. Chop Top and Nubbins will love it so much as soon as it gets in the house.

Because the Sawyer house is full of men and because you wanted to, you decided the dog is a girl. Chop Top and Nubbins weren’t too happy about that but you were the one with the over 100 pound dog. You named her Macy after the Sawyers grandma.

Because you didn’t have access to dog food you fed it whatever meat you could get. Unfortunatly they never labeled their meat so she might have eaten some human food if you know what I mean.

As time went on Bubba would really grow to love her. Cuddling with her when you weren’t avalible to cuddle with him.

You’d teach her trick and the twins would try to teach her some too but it wouldn’t really work out.

Poly Billy Loomis and Stu Macher

I feel like Stu is more of a dog person in my opinion, don’t dox me over that.

Stu would love them with open arms but Billy would take some time to warm up to them.

Stu would tease Billy about being scared of them and Billy would just roll his eyes and hit the back of his head.

Get ready for a lot of references to Cujio. They mean it with love because they know your dog is a sweetheart but it won’t stop their horror obsessed minds.

They’ll ask to take them out for a walk or a car ride but when you ask why the answers are vauge because they’re just gonna try to scare Randy with them.

Stu will love to cuddle with you and your dog but Billy will complain about how much space it takes up in bed.

But after awhile he’ll start to crack and be more lovey with your dog.

They love going on walks with the two of you and honestly might try to see if they can run faster than it.

Over all they love your dog and kinda see it as their child in a way.

The Sinclair Brothers

You’d find your new dog when you’re out with Lester. Bo will insist you just leave it be when you bring it to town but Lester knows how Bo feels about Jonesy now so he doesn’t worry.

Jonesy is so excited to have another friend and Vincent doesn’t really mind much.

You and Lester will be the ones taking care of it for the most part at first. You’ll decide Jonesy needs a girlfriend and name it something appropriate. You were gonna suggest Trudy but quickly ruled that out because well, she never treated her kids the best. You settle on Jane and she quickly becomes part of the family.

Vincent begins spending time with her just for a new subject to draw but it quickly transforms into a beautiful bond.

Bo’s gonna act like Jane bothers him and just ignore her but that act fades away when you find him asleep on the couch with Jane in his lap.

She’ll pick up on tricks quickly and will enjoy going in the car with Lester and you when she can.

I feel like they don’t really give Jonesy dog food, they just feed her whatever meat they have on hand so that’s probably whats gonna happen with Jane.

The four of you will watch Jonesy and Jane play for hours together. You won’t have to worry about them not getting enough exercise then.

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midnightcreator12 · 5 months

Text

The Portal Home is Built with Roadblock - Chapter 27 - Welcome Home, It's Changed Since You Left

AO3 Link

Chula is back in her original reality. She had been expecting things to be different but...not this different.

Chula had prepared herself for a number of things upon her return.

Maybe the Republic had won. Maybe the Separatist had won. Maybe the war was still in full force and she really would have to kidnap Astra and the battalion. Maybe the Clone War ended and a new one had started up.

Dozens upon dozens of possible things could be waiting for her. So, naturally, the moment she got a good signal on the other side of the gateway she pulled up the holonet and started catching up.

And was completely unprepared for what she found.

She stared in horror at the first article she’d found in relation to the war’s end. And bold, flickering blue text stared back at her.

JEDI DECLARED TRAITORS TO THE REPUBLIC.

And that…that could not be right. There was no way that was what had ended the war. She could see a few Jedi turning on the Republic, a name or two even came to mind, but…all of them? The faces of the entire damned war, Kenobi and Skywalker? The high counsel?

Astra?

No, definitely not her, not in a hundred years. Astra, for as much as Chula loved her, had a blind faith in the Republic that would never let her betray it.

And even if she did…the article said that the clones had had orders to open fire on any and all Jedi and she knew not one person in the two-forty-fourth would ever turn their weapons on Astra.

And the more she poked around, the worse it got.

There were kill on site orders for any and all Jedi, Canoculer Papatine had declared himself the Emperor of the Republic and subsequently changed it into ‘The Empire’. The Clone War was over but small conflicts were all over the place, people protesting against the Empire's new rules and regulations.

And subsequently being labeled terrorists that needed to be taken care of by the Imperial forces.

Her blood ran cold when she spotted a small press release on ‘The Siege of Lasan’.

There was so little actually written about what had happened but if it was anything like what the Empire had done to the Jedi…what they were still doing to the Jedi.

Chula closed out everything, heart pounding in her ears and breath coming in small, panicked gasps. She knew, deep in the back of her mind, that she needed to calm down but that first headline was blaring at the forefront of her mind, crowding out any other thoughts except for one.

What the hell had happened over the last six years?

—------------

Lasan was a beautiful planet.

The surface jumped between searing heat and pleasant warmth almost year round, covered in grasslands and forests and towering mountains. The cities and villages were always teeming with life and color, Lasat’s trading, working, laughing, living.

It was Chula’s second home, especially after the New Mandalorians won the Clan War. It was where she’d reforged herself after her Buir died, where she heard stories of her mother. Where both her parents had been cremated and their ashes scattered.

It was a warm but fierce world, in both its environment and in its people.

Now it was dead.

Chula stood where the capital had once been, the crown jewel of Lasan. The towering trees and buildings, the markets, the homes, the royal family’s fortress of a palace…gone. Reduced to nothing but ash.

Chula had been expecting a lot of things upon her return but this…this had never once crossed her mind.

Because she’d never imagined the Empire.

She’d never thought that the Jedi would be wiped out, the Clone’s largely dubbed obsolete, for the Force-damned Chancellor of the Republic to turn out to be a power hungry dictator who had the entire Inner Rim wrapped around his finger and was slowly suffocating everything else.

She still couldn’t fully wrap her mind around it, despite all the articles and reports she’d managed to dig up on the public holonet, even after seeing just how far this new government's ruthlessness would go.

She stood on the crumbling remains of the castle entry, body feeling numb but also wanting to explode with….something.

Anger, sorrow, rage, grief, dozens of feelings all fighting for which was the most important one.

It all bubbled out of her mouth in a loud, screeching roar, filled with agony for the people that had once lived on Lasan. Her scream echoed back from the empty, desolate streets before slowly fading away, unheard by anyone but her own ears. Tears streamed down Chula's face as she started storming her way up to the remains of the fortress.

The surface structure may be gone but she prayed to every deity she knew that the surface had been the only thing the Empire had been interested in.

Years of not being on planet and the lack of walls to guide her made her search difficult but she eventually found where the armory had once been. There weren’t any weapons or armor left, likely all picked over by the Empire and by scavengers looking to sell the now unreplicatable weapons.

The thought made another enraged roar burst out of her mouth.

She redirected the anger, the hurt, the pain, she used it to help drive her in her task. She clawed and dug through the remains of stone and metal and wood, vision blurred by dust and tears as she uncovered what remained of the flooring. She felt along the cracked and broken boards, searching until her claws finally scrapped what she’d been looking for.

A lesser known aspect of Lasats was their habit of squirreling away the most prized items among their people. Secret cupboards, hidden chambers, hidden away from outsiders in order to protect what was most valued to their people.

And very few items were more valued among the Lasat than the Honor Guards Bo-Rifles.

Chula strained as she pried the hidden entrance open, the hinges groaning in protest as she forced them to move. The heavy durasteel finally gave up its fight, slamming to the ground with a loud crash, letting light filter down into the underground chamber.

Chula had never been so thankful to step into a room clogged with dust and cobwebs. Because it meant no one had been down there in years.

The chamber wasn’t very large but it didn’t need to be. When collapsed, Bo-Rifles didn’t take up much room and very few were stowed away under the armory. Tradition dictated that if a Bo-Rifle was not won in a Boosahn Keeraw it was to be stored away until it could be passed to an Honor Guard decedent who had claimed the same title. And it was not uncommon for children of Honor Guard members to follow in their parents footsteps. Thus, less than a dozen Bo-Riles were in limbo.

Chula had never even entertained the idea of being an Honor Guard, so she had never expected to hold her mothers weapon in her lifetime.

Any other circumstance, she wouldn’t have. Lasan may not have been her first home but she respected it’s traditions and customs.

But circumstances had changed more than they ever had before and she wasn’t going to leave it here to rot with the remains of Lasan. Or for a lucky scavenger to dig up.

Each rifle was contained in a box and each box had the names of their former wielders engraved on the front. Chula’s fingertips skimmed over the names, some vaguely familiar but most completely unknown to her.

Except one.

Mara Tane.

Chula removed the simple wooden box reverently, running her palm over the top to remove the layer of dust before opening it.

Despite the grim surrounding it, the inside of the box remained pristine, safely holding the hybrid of wood and metal that made up Mara Tane’s Bo-Rifle.

Chula had never seen it before. The weapon had been placed in storage when Chula had still been an infant. She only knew about it because of Garazeb.

She hoped he’d made it out of the massacre…somehow.

Chula inhaled, choking down another cry as she shut the box and resealed the hidden chamber, even replacing some of the rubble to hide it.

She could justify taking her mother’s Bo-Rifle but she couldn’t bring the rest. Hopefully, no one would disturb them. Or a Lasat with the proper authority would come move them to another location or pass them to a new Honor Guard.

The sun beat down on Chula’s back as she trudged back to the Tortuga, rifle case clutched to her chest as her thoughts and heart rate finally started to calm.

She didn’t want to stay, she wanted to go home and cry until she was numb, curl up with Leo and his brother and let the sound of their breathing sooth her aching chest.

But she had to make sure she didn’t leave anyone behind. Because once she left this reality, she was never coming back.

There wasn’t anything left for her in this galaxy.

—-----------

It would take time to find somewhere she could discreetly get into a secure records database.

And in the inbetween, she looked up her other homeworld.

What she found made her feel sick and enraged all over again.

Because apparently, Death Watch had been largely dissipated during the transition from the Republic to the Empire and at some point, Clan Saxon had moved into the power vacuum created. Gar Saxon had plenty of interviews where he very publicly supported the Empire, and since Saxon was the most powerful clan on Mandalore now, she definitely couldn’t risk going anywhere near that system.

There wasn’t much beyond that but Chula knew Mandalorians, especially the ones left in the wake of the Clan War. And she would bet the Tortuga that all the smaller Clans were too busy fighting among themselves to form any kind of rebellion against Clan Saxon or the Empire occupation.

Chula inhaled sharply and closed the net browser. Public databases could only give her so much, she needed to find an outpost that she could easily get in and out of.

—----------------

She found an outpost station, far in the Outer Rim, with very few guards. Taking them down quickly and quietly wasn’t a problem, but she did bare her teeth under her helmet when she saw the armor they wore. It was clearly a new version of the clone armor, probably rolled out right after the war ended.

Not one of these skanah's deserved to wear it.

She’d admit slicing wasn’t her strongest suit but…well, very few were brave enough or foolish enough to deny a six and a half foot Mandalorian towering over them and demanding to be let into the system.

The database the trooper had access to was limited but…there was almost nothing. It confused Chula, how little information there was about pretty much anything pre-Empire. Most of it was almost exactly like the public Nets, only adding some names and places, but largely, it was all surface level placations and all detailed reports were made after something called Order Sixty-Six.

The only somewhat useful thing she managed to dig up was a database on Jedi that had not been accounted for after Order Sixty-Six.

But there was no mention of Astra or the two-forty-fourth battalion in it.

Chula growled and slammed her hands into the console, hard enough to leave a large dent and make the screen go dark, before storming away.

Looked like she was relying on word of mouth to figure out what had happened to her clan.

—----------------

Chula must be distracted, that was the only reasonable explanation she could come up with when a blaster clicked right behind her and she was actually surprised by it.

Someone had managed to sneak up behind her on a Lothal sidestreet and she’d been too wrapped up in her own head to notice.

Damn, she was getting old. Or she’d gotten used to how much safer the turtle’s dimensions were.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve wearing that armor,” the owner of the blaster growled.

And…oh, that was why Chula hadn’t heard her coming.

Very few people could sneak up on her, even few were still alive to do it twice. And she was so, so happy to hear one of those few after so long. Right when she had been starting to feel hopeless again.

She inhaled shakily, trying to keep her voice steady as she answered, “Why would you care?”

“Just because you slapped a new paint job on it doesn’t make it yours,” the woman snarled, voice much more gravely than Chula remembered but undoubtedly the same person. “That armor belongs to Clan Verd.”

“So it does,” Chula turned, slowly raising her hands to remove her helmet.

Seena Ader, in her full mercenary kit, face bare, the scar along her cheek a few shades more faded, stared at Chula in shock, all the color draining from under her dusty blue fur, “What…what the hells?”

“Gotta say, didn’t know you cared so much about the sanctity of my armor.”

“What…how…”

Chula tilted her head as Seena spluttered, jaw opening and shutting with nothing of substance coming out. It was almost funny to watch and Chula couldn’t help but cheekily ask, “Do you need a minute Miss. Ader?”

“Do I need a minute?!” Finally, Seena seemed to find her voice. Very loudly. “Do I need-? You kriffing asshole! I thought you kriffing died! Where the kriff have you been?”

“Oh, now that’s a story,” Chula let out a shaky huff, leaning back until she hit a sun-warmed stone building. “How much do you know about the Yaotl guy we were chasing down?”

Seena shrugged, “I may have…dug into him a little after you…from what I found, he was a nutcase.”

“Well, that nutcase's theories on multi-dimensional travel actually had some merit. I’ve been stuck in an alternate reality for the last six years.”

Seena blinked.

Her mouth went through another cycle of opening and shutting.

Chula waited.

Finally, Seena shook her head and mirrored Chula’s leaning position on the opposite building of the sidestreet, “The weird part of that is that I actually believe you.”

“I’ll prove it later,” Chula straightened. “Right now, we need to get Astra. I’ve been diggin’ for intel on where she and the kids are but I haven’t found anythin’. And I know all that osik about treason and the Clones turnin’ on the Jedi is propaganda nonsense from Palpatine. We both know the two-four-four wouldn’t do that in a million years but I can’t…why are you looking at me like that?”

Seena’s expression had become pinched and when Chula pointed it out, she quickly looked down. Her arms moved up to cross over her chest, “Verd….the two-forty-fourth disappeared during the Clone War.”

The good cheer building in Chula was gone in an instant, snuffed out like a candle, “...what?”

“The Paragon disappeared a little over a year before the Clone War ended, same time you did. And the Empire has erased pretty much every record from before that damn order went out. Palpatine has been scrubbing anything that doesn’t feed into the image he’s trying to build of himself and that includes Jedi who actually gave a damn like Astra. But…by gods, I’m almost glad their gone, Astra would have hated all of this mess. There are small rebellions here and there but….have you seen what happened on Lasan? That’s…that pretty standard whenever anyone gets too noisy for Palpatine's liking.”

She had, she had seen Lasan and she didn’t want to think about that or Mandalore or anything except Astra and her kids, because they disappeared…

They disappeared…

“When did you say the Paragon disappeared?”

“The same time you did,” Seena shrugged. “Only report I could dig up was some kind of massive energy spike in that area but it was out in the middle of no-mans-space so the only thing they had to work of was random sensors floating around and The Paragons-”

“Forget about that, we gotta move!” Chula sprung forward, grabbing Seena’s wrist and tugging her back towards the main streets.

“Wait, wait, Verd,” Seena tugged, nowhere close to stopping Chula but managing to slow her down. “What in the hells are you all excited about?”

“I got launched into another dimension because Yaotl’s ship basically opened a wormhole in space and time and dragged the ship in. And right before everything went dark, The Paragon had dropped out of hyperspace, I remember getting a communication from Astra before I hit my head which means the Paragon got pulled in too!”

“Do you have any idea how insane you sound right now? I just told you, the entire ship vanished-”

“And so did I,” Chula stopped, turning to face Seena. “I disappeared into another reality but I made it. I shabbin’ lived for six years in another reality. And I have seen so much and I’ve learned so much and I met these kids, brilliant kids, amazing kids, who helped me get here and they can help us find the rest of our clan and we can finally…we can finally have an actual home.”

Seena’s eyes narrowed again, head tilting.

Chula pressed on, emotions spinning wildly in her blood again and making her babble, “We have a multiverse to pick from. We can stop doin’ all of this, fightin’ other peoples wars, running for our lives every damn second. There was barely anythin’ keeping us here and now we can just…just leave it all. You won’t have to run from you father anymore-”

“Oh, I took care of that ages ago.”

Chula paused, ears flicking forward, “Pardon?”

“Yeeeah, that’s also a story. Short version, dear ol’ dad caught up with me, tried to have me executed in the same way he murdered Tarsi. Turns out, being a merc for most of my life and training with you worked well for not getting ripped apart by starving beasts and I burned his precious little fortress to the ground with him in it.”

Chula blinked.

Than huffed a laugh, releasing Seena’s arm to clap her shoulder, “You’ve been busy.”

“Had to,” Seena muttered. “I was the only one of us left.”

“Not for long,” Chula started moving again, slower now so that they could walk side by side. “Trust me, we’re gonna go back to Donnie and we’ll start a plan to look for Astra and the battalion. We’re goin’ to find them and…and things will be perfect for once.”

“Well, you’ve certainly become more optimistic in your sabbatical.”

“Yeah, well, like I said, I met some amazing kids. I think you’ll get along great with them.”

------------------

Translations:

Skanah's - Fuckers (very hated person(s))

Kriff - Fuck

Osik - shit

------------

.....guess who's writing a third arc for this series?

Also, new Boss Bitch, check out Seena's Profile here!

#tmnt #rottmnt #lone hunter and turtle #star wars #tmnt au #fanfic

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hamliet · 1 year

Note

Hi! Do you think RWBY as a story is inconsistent in tone? It is a criticism I keep seeing around? But what exactly means to have tonal inconsistency? Can you give me an example?

Nope.

I'm actually surprised to read this. Maybe because I'm on the outskirts of the fandom, but I really would not have put "tonal inconsistency" in like, a top 10 list of things I thought people might label a flaw of RWBY's. It had honestly never occurred to me.

I'd actually call RWBY extremely tonally consistent, which is hard to maintain over 9 volumes and counting.

I'm curious if these posts elaborated at all about how or what makes it feel tonally inconsistent--are there examples? Because I can't think of one. Since I don't know, I'm going to have to speculate.

Is it about fairy tale stories dealing with death? Because every fairy tale deals with death; that's kind of the central core of the vast majority of fairy tales.

Is it because this volume certainly contained RWBY's darkest episode ever? Because it did, but the descent to the underworld and meeting with the goddess is a part of the heroine's journey. Stories always get darker before they get better. Plus, I don't see how anyone could think that the volume wouldn't get very dark considering we just tackled genocide and the sunshine character died.

I also think that Volume 9 has been extremely clear since the first teaser way back in 2021 that it would deal with Ruby's mental health. The opening line is "you should never have been born." Ruby then has a literal panic attack. She faints in horror when she's told about her friend dying.

That's just episode 1.

I guess people might be thrown by the juxtaposition of simplified life, which is the essence of the Ever After, with a complex topic like mental health? But I actually think that's quite brilliant. When you're extremely mentally unwell, which I have been before, things do seem to paradoxically become simpler even as the complexity overwhelms you. Things can seem black and white. Good and bad. And you? You're bad.

Idk, no one's experience is exactly the same, but to me it rang honest. It's fine if others felt differently.

Was it about mixing humor and dark topics? But like most stories do that. I mean, going back to damn Shakespeare, at likes 45% of each of his tragedies are dick jokes. The Bard loved a dick joke. It did not even have to be a good dick joke for the Bard to love it and include it in literature to be read by billions. I mean, I'm slightly hyperbolizing about the percentages, but you literally have Hamlet lamenting about going insane and contemplating suicide in one of the most haunting soliloquies in the English language (Act 3 scene 1's "To Be or Not To Be..." ) and then making numerous dick jokes in the very next scene (Act 3 scene 2). Even when it's all gone to the grave (heh) in Act 5, Hamlet takes time to hold up a jester's skull and joke about "alas, poor Yorick."

Like, yes, there are jarring ways to incorporate humor with tragedy. I don't think RWBY is doing that, though. The last episode had some genuinely heartwarming moments of realization (the paper pleasers) and tension, and then we had Cat!Neo still being a complete cat and lolling about like "Oh HEY GUYS." (The cat is hilarious, and they've always been like this.)

The entirety of Volume 9 has dealt with grief. Even the fight with the Red Prince is the prince throwing a tantrum mingled with grief.

Idk, stories do generally progress. They go from good to bad to good to bad to worse to how is this even worser to okay there's some hope to catharsis. If you can't connect the dots and see the progression, that's tonal inconsistency. If you can, and you absolutely can with RWBY not just in Volume 9 but the entire show as a whole, then... it's not tonally inconsistent.

The theme of identity has been present from the beginning of the show. Ruby looking at a grave and hence dealing with grief is one of the founding images of the entire series. To fully explore death, characters generally have to potentially end up there at some point. That Ruby would wonder whether or not she should have been born is obvious from the first minute of this season. Her spiral has gotten worse and worse, but if you paid attention, you could see it happening.

Again, the show began as a boarding school story with some pretty dark themes (abusive relationships, parental abandonment, parental death). That the darker stuff becomes explored more fully is pretty par for the course. Even like, again, Harry Potter gets progressively more dark. So do the Avengers movies. It's like, normal.

Idk, to me saying RWBY is tonally inconsistent for any of these reasons sounds like saying, I don't know, Othello is tonally inconsistent because the first scene has Othello and Desdemona standing up against bigotry for their love and their marriage is not annulled; therefore the play should end in the defeat of racism and love conquering all. Things change. The seeds of what will happen, the ugliness of racism and the limits of love and reality of misogyny are all present even in that opening scene, and unfortunately they consume the characters.

When I think tonal inconsistency, I think of, I don't know, the ending of Tokyo Ghoul, which thematically contradicted the entire 200+ chapters and 1.5 mangas leading up to it. Things that were framed as negative were suddenly framed as positive. I also think of BNHA, which, while I do think maintains its optimistic/hopeful superhero tone, does sometimes switch the framing and tone around certain characters (Hawks, Endeavor).

So yeah. RWBY has flaws for sure, but I just don't think this is one of them.

#rwby #rwby vol 9 #mental health #tw #just in case #ruby rose #tone

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adickaboutspoons · 8 months

Text

Tagged by @chocolatepot. Thank you, my v. dear!

Rules: Go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason. <3

First fic: On AO3, that would be my drabble collection for Pet Shop of Horrors. Far from baby's first fic(s), but the first that I published where other people could see from way back in the hazy yesteryear of Livejournal. First fic ever was a Mary Sue self-insert Dracula fic. It was terrible beyond words.

Last fic: Last fic FOR NOW is When a Good Plan Comes Together. And frankly? I can't recommend it. I've been fighting myself about maybe taking it down for a week now, because it kind of makes me cringe to think that might be the first thing of mine someone reads. It's not that it's BAD, per se, but it is v. LAZY. I saw a prompt and wanted to knock out a response to it, and a quick one, because I'm currently working on three other fics that require a lot more mental energy. But that meant handwaving the titular plan and "fade to black"-ing on the sex scene, and that's not really up to my normal standards.

Only once: I tend to be fandom-monogamous, and, within my hyperfocus, OTP-centric, so the closest I've got fic-wise is Unbelievable, which is kinda Geoffrey Fettering/the allure of Stede Bonnet's escape to piracy, if you squint at it. Vid-wise, my first vid ever was for my wifey, featuring her favorite character from The Umbrella Academy, Klaus, and I've got a Stede/Hornberry set to "I've Got A Crush On You."

Favorite fic from the fandom I've written in most: Technically, I think I've written more individual drabbles for Pet Shop, but since they're all grouped together, I'll go with OFMD, in which case, it's Like I Want to be Awake. It's prolly what I would consider my best writing to date - funny but still earnest, the first sex scene I've actually found hot while writing it, and, I flatter myself, a solid Ed-voice with some v. creative cursing.

Fic I wish more people read: I mean, the answer is also "Like I Want to be Awake" because I love it so much, and I want other people to love it too. But other than that, my Stede Sonnets. I know, sweetie, I know. You had a bad English teacher who didn't know how to teach poetry, and prolly didn't really know how to teach Shakespeare, so now you hate all poetry, and ESPECIALLY a stuffy, restrictive format like sonnets. But I'm urging you to find it in your heart to give it another go. I think you might find that, because the subject matter is fandom-centered, you might be predisposed to give the slightest damn about what it's about, and able to relax into the format. And you might even find that sonnets don't have to be stuffy - they can be funny, or dare I say, even flirty and sexy.

Fic I agonized over: The answer is also also "Like I Want to be Awake". I'm SOOOO unendingly lucky to have a marvelous group of Discord friends that let me endlessly whinge on at them. It was supposed to be a silly one-shot companion piece to Footsteps in the Dark (just over 1K). Over the course of 3 weeks, it grew into a 16K monster. Mostly because the boys wouldn't shut the fuck up about matchbooks. I agonized whether including a Maori folk story was appropriative or a respectful allusion to the culture from which Ed's mother came. I found a story I loved that was thematically relevant to the rest of the story and wrote up my own version, and then decided to double-check for alternative versions, only to find it was labeled "Maori," but was actually written by a London-born white woman who was a teacher in Ateoroa in the late 1800s. So now that only lives on the Discord server because there was no way I could use it, but the writing was good. Then, after I'd found a different story, researched it, and THEN wrote it up, I agonized over whether just glossing over Stede telling the story of Snow White with Ed's reactions thereunto, since it would doubtlessly be more familiar to my readers, would be othering to the Maori story (that they might not be familiar with, and would therefore necessitate a full telling), or if I DID do a full retelling if that would be obnoxious. I agonized over whether it cut off too abruptly. About whether it counted as a downer ending when really it just dovetails back into canon. About whether the title too like that of a fandom juggernaut, or if maybe I should choose a different lyric from the Petshop Boys song from which I took the original story in order to link them that way? Like I said - I am SO lucky my buddies are so patient with me.

Fic that sprang fully formed: Definitely Your Achilles. I was about half-way through Beautiful and Useless when Ed's voice interrupted Loud and Clear and Insistent that his version be told. From then on, I was basically writing the two stories simultaneously.

Work(s) I'm proud of: Almost all of the above (not you, "When a Good Plan Comes Together" - you sit there and think about what you've done!), but also Advanced Maneuvers , because it was has the first sex scene I'd ever written, and, even though my brain fought me tooth and nail the entire way through, it's not half bad, Time Enough because it was my first time trying to write action, and I'm pretty pleased with how it came out, Under Par because it was my first attempt at a modern AU and I think it's pretty cute, and Dearly Beloved because it's a lot of fun.

A tag to summon (but no presh): @bizarrelittlemew @emi--rose @epersonae @nicnacsnonsense @poetic----nonsense

#ofmd #ofmd fic #our flag means death

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forgetmenots0250 · 2 years

Text

Casper crew + Finney x Tomboyish Nonbinary reader

For each character whose age differs from the other your age will change depending on the character, such as Griffin, Robin, or Vance Also thanks for requesting it was fun writing this

You knew who you wanted to be but there wasn’t really a label for you out there so decided to just not have one

Most couldn’t dissociate you from a boy or a girl and even if you dressed boyish, they couldn’t tell

You even gave vague answers to throw them off your trail

“Are you a boy or a girl?”

“Yes” finger guns away

”What’s in your between your legs?”

“Thighs” finger guns away

“What’s in your pants?”

“Sponge bob underwear” finger guns away

“Do you have a penis or a vagina!?”

“Neither” finger guns away

After a whole 3 months of pestering and people asking question that were to the point you actually had to get in a fight with a guy because he thought you were a pretty boy who couldn’t fight and you kindly told him, "I'm not a boy fuck face." (You made him eat shit for that)

People then just started to not care anymore which they put your gender aside and started to look at your talents

Also, your attractiveness

You liked music

It just spoke to you that no human emotions or people could ever say

Your violin was your baby and took classes when you were a child and it just stuck

Even though you can play other instruments like the piano and guitar

Finney

You met Finney when you were invited to a baseball game with a friend

Unfortunately your other friends weren’t there so it was just you and your friend, your friend group was small since some people you were just uncomfortable with

Most people must stared at you but didn’t really move to talk to you or anything just stared which kinda creeped you out

But unknowingly to you it was actually you were dubbed as “Untouchable” due to you beating up that one guy and threatening people who hurt your friends

Finney was the best and when he won the game you just had to tell him something

“Finney that was amazing! You did amazingly Finney!”

“O-oh thank you. I’m glad you’re here cheering me on”

Finney was so fucking nervous

You were so attractive and so very making Finney’s heart beat like he ran a marathon and you high fived him, you even complimented him, the most attractive person in the school

You asked for him to sign a baseball because

“I just want an original one so when your famous I can flaunt it to other fans”

You damn near killed our boy Finney

He gave you his baseball cap as a gift and now you wear it in school and he takes so much pride in being close to you

It even makes him a bit popular

Robin

You met Robin while going to the movies and he recognized you as Pretty Face from school

Robin sits next to you and try to get a conversation rolling first talking about the movies and then related movies and then interests

You happily spill about your interests since you don’t get that opportunity everyday but once you realize your ranting you try to apologize but then Robin is just sitting there listening intently smiling softly for a moment before he realizes you stopped talking and asked if you were okay

You were glad that you weren’t annoying him and asked him about his interests which he happily ranted about

This atmosphere that you had around you made his heart light and made him not even pay attention to the movie and once it was done you asked if he wanted to hang out

“I really had fun talking to you dude, can we hang out? Maybe bowling or skating?”

“Yeah I had fun talking to you too, skating sounds nice”

“Great! I’ll see you later, same time on Friday at the skating rink!”

You ran to your sister’s car since she did drop you off and you were worried that if you took any longer get she would embarrass you in front of Robin

Robin was left standing there with your number in his hand and fluttering feeling in his chest

All he could do was smile as the car drove away

He was definitely calling you later and making up some bullshit excuse to talk about your favorite horror movie

Just to hear your voice

Bruce

You met Bruce when he was at the bike shop

He was given some money and was sent to get his own bike of his own so he was very indecisive about his choice

Your dad worked there and had been apart of the shop for years so almost everyone knew you as the kid who brought everyone coffee on weekends in the morning

You were going to visit your dad for his break and found Bruce looking between two bikes

One was a white one and a blue one, he was really torn between the two and was muttering to himself the pros and cons of both bikes

“I say the white one it looks nice and it even has a basket”

Bruce jumped out of his skin as he heard a voice right behind him

“WHAT THE FUC- oh hi”

“Oh sorry for giving you a scare, my bad”

“Oh it’s fine, I get scared easily…”

“Really? I’m sorry, how can I make it up to you?”

“Well…”

Bruce asked for your number, as awkward as it was

You two hung out at an arcade and had fun in the shooting games and after grabbed a smoothie and hung out just sitting at the park

Vance

You met Vance at grab n go when he was playing his pinball machine and the guy who bumped into the machine masses him up and ruined his score

Thankfully you deescalated the situation making a deal with Vance that you would buy him something to eat

You got him whatever he wanted, and you got him some fast food

You two got talking and found out that you two shard a love for music, he had an electric guitar that was gifted to him by his mother and you just had to ask for him to play

He was unexpectedly good and liked to listen to his music and even played with him with your own guitar

You loved his hair it was just long and pretty and fluffy, and for what? who gave him that right to look so angelic?

You invited him to your house often and had sleepovers and let him brush your hair and in exchange he let you braid his hair, and it was fucking fantastic

You being the person you are took every opportunity to hug Vance since why not?

You and Vance now hang out annually at grab n go where you just watch Vance play pinball and eat snacks

You and Vance sometimes go to the park and play with the neighborhood stray cats and oddly enough Vance is a cat magnet

Vance literally has 4 cats that just run up to him when they go to the park

You only have one that recognizes you right away and she is your baby

Vance teases you about having the most cats which you just throw your water bottle at him, it's an empty plastic bottle that you forget to refill everyday but just have on hand

Vance was really good at hiding his adoration for you and tried to subtly give hints, but they were so obscure that you couldn't tell what he was trying to say

Billy

You met Billy while he was on his paper route because you were taking some cheesecake to your auntie

He came up behind you making you almost lose control of the bike

“a-AAAH-! FUCK-!”

“Jesus- sorry I didn’t mean to scare you I just wanted to say hi, you okay?”

Y-yeah… I’m fine but what the hell.”

“My bad, how about I buy you a soda as an apology?”

“…Deal but you have to buy me soda for the next week!”

Billy sighed as he knew he was not getting out of this one

“Deal…”

And so how your relationship started

Billy for the next week would buy you soda and would sit next to you in the morning once he was done with his paperboy work

He was always early to school almost an hour early and you came 15 minutes into his hour chatting away and him buying you your soda in the morning

You two would complain about teachers and Billy had tales and tales about his horrible PE teacher while you also had tales and tales of your guitar teacher who was just an ass but you still learned in that class surprisingly

Once it was raining and hadn’t brought your umbrella and you found Billy who was also standing under a hangover with no umbrella

He spotted you first

“Ah (Name)! You stuck in the rain too?”

“Yup, I’m guessing you don’t have one either?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I did!”

“Oh wow. I feel so loved here.”

You said that in the most monotone voice you could muster but even still you had a little smile on your face

“Whatever- wait I got an idea”

“What? You gonna hold your jacket above us as we walk?”

“Basically but not technically”

“Wait I was joking-”

“We’ll you got it right out his on!”

Billy hand you his jacket that was somewhat plastic fabric so the rain would roll off

You put on the jacket and Billy crouched down as if to give you a piggy back ride

“Get on!”

“Cool”

You held the jacket out to cover you and Billy and he started to blitz down the sidewalk

“AAHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

“AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!?!?!?!?”

You both screamed until you guys got home

Griffin

Griffin was a quiet child and you two met when he was getting bullied but you defended him and even though you got hurt you were able to send the bullies crying

”Are you okay?”

“Am I okay!? Are you okay!?”

“I’m fine, it’ll heal!”

“T-then let me help you bandage it up!”

Griffin took your hand and took you to his front porch and he went inside to get a first aid kit

He disinfected the wounds and put Babbage’s on them

“How do you know how to do this?”

“Well-… I’m really clumsy and have to bandage myself up most the time so I learned quickly! Hahaha…”

You didn’t believe it really but you didn’t want to push Griffin so you let it go and offered him to go to your hideout

Griffin perked up when he heard hideout

“Hideout? As in secret base!?”

Griffin was absolutely enamored by the idea of a secret base and you had one? Awesome!

You took Griffin into the woods where there was an abandoned bridge that was over a small river

But the bridge was covered in rugs and half on it was covered in wood that looked to be drilled and roped together (the wood planks could only go so far up)

“How in the world did you build this?”

“I didn’t but my pops did when I was bit younger, he build it because I wanted to go camping but was too scared of the woods to actually camp so he built this near town��

“It’s amazing!”

“I know right? Come in we can play game boys!”

“You have those!?”

“You bet I do!”

You had been Griffin’s hero and he adored you for it, you also defended him even if he didn’t need it

He always gave you a big hugs and insisted on holding hands to school

You and Griffin after school would go to the hideout to play games and hang out

During the summer you two would go down to the river to splash around and have fun in the cool water while in the summer heat

After once you had gotten somewhat dried you two would do to grab n go and get soda and even ice cream to enjoy your day even more

Griffin comes to your place more than you go to his place

In the winters you two hang by the heater and cuddle in blankets and you play the piano that’s your folks have for Griffin and he loves it

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