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shadesslut · 6 months

Note

So for the father's malice series, could you possibly make Ollie's first word to be "Dada"/"Daddy" (referring to Ethan) which is surprising since Ollie has barely been around him, and it basically warms both Y/N's and Ethan's heart <3 thank you

a father’s malice, pt. 3

(a/n: THIS WAS SUCH A CUTE IDEA THANK YOU)

Pairing: (Ex-Gf!Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader x Chad Meeks-Martin)

Content Includes: (Slight alcoholism?, self-hate, fluff, angst)

Summary: Ethan starts to turn to alcohol as a coping mechanism for his guilt and trauma with his father. Ethan also starts his job in a bookstore! :D

Masterlist

✮

His adrenaline was high, and his pupils were dilated. A part of him liked the chase, the thrill of playing cat and mouse made his hands shake in excitement. It was who he was chasing made his stomach turn.

Y/N was close to the main room where the others were. Her cheeks were stained with old and new tears.

Ethan chased her as he swerved around the beat-up furniture. She moved to the side, trying to cut him off, but she tripped. Her shoe got caught on a wooden panel on the floor, and she stumbled, letting Ethan catch up to her. His heart dropped as she tripped, not wanting to catch her.

He tackled her to the floor, and she let out a sob. She didn’t want to go out this way; alone and cold. She wanted to be held by Ethan or Chad. Not pressed between the floor and her killer.

Ethan raised the knife in the air, stilling his movements as he looked down at her. She cried, but didn’t fight back.

“Come on, Y/N.” Ethan whispered under the mask. “Don’t give up.”

But she did. She went limp under his hold, and Ethan knew what he had to do. He cried with her as he swung his hand down, sinking the knife into her chest. She coughed out blood, and her hands gripped around Ethan’s wrist.

Ethan slid his knife out as he stood up shakily. He looked down at her, and a part of him wanted to take off his mask, to tell her it’s going to be okay. He didn’t do that though; he only sniffled and left her there. He heard Tara’s scream, his cue, and he glanced back at Y/N one last time.

He whispered an “I love you,” to her as he left. He didn’t know she was pregnant then, but again, it probably wouldn’t have made a difference.

—

The truth was, Ethan wasn’t doing well. Don’t get it wrong, Ethan was ecstatic to be spending time with Ollie and Y/N, but whenever he wasn’t bonding with Ollie, he was bonding with Chad’s stash of liquor. He had never been known to drink, and to be honest with himself, Ethan hated it. But it was the only way he felt good about himself.

He hated himself. And everyday he thought of it.

“Hey!”

Y/N’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked to her, apologizing under his breath. She looked concerned.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Ethan asked softly. He leaned further towards her on the couch. She had her laptop resting on her thighs.

She sighed, smiling. “Are you nervous for your interview?”

He had stayed with them for two weeks now. Chad had softened up on him a tad, but it seemed a lot to Ethan. Y/N did too, finally giving in to letting Ethan sleep in her bed. They never touched though, keeping to their sides. Only reaching out their hands towards each other. Ethan applied to hundreds of places. You know how it is, being famous for the only surviving Ghostface ever, no one really wanted him. He received a few calls, fortunately.

“A little,” Ethan answered. Y/N placed her hand on his, her warmth causing him to smile.

“You’ll be fine. I know that.” She comforted. “Do you wanna get lunch when Chad gets back?”

He shook his head as he stood up. He wiped his hands on his jeans and adjusted his shirt. “Nah, I gotta head out. Give Ollie a kiss for me.” Ethan smiled, before grabbing his wallet and walking out the door. His smile disappeared as he shut the door.

–

Ethan sighed as he swung the door open. The bell rang and he cringed, not wanting to bring attention to him. A girl at the counter welcomed him in, and her face was covered by the stack of books in her hands. Ethan shifted awkwardly.

“Uhm, I’m here for an interview.” He said, moving towards the desk she was behind.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, before dropping the stack on the counter. She had frizzy blonde hair, was short, and had glasses that were way too big for her face. Her eyes widened at the sight of Ethan. Great. Ethan thought to himself, nervous that she recognized him.

“You’re Ethan Kirsch,” She mumbled, pointing her finger at him. “I just saw you on the news,”

Ethan winced, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah,”

She didn’t respond. She only stared up at him, adjusting her glasses as she pushed them up. Ethan coughed. “I’m sorry, do you want me to-”

“Sorry! I-I’m just a fan of yours. I’m Mary.”

“‘A fan’?”

She nodded, and she waved her hand, urging him to follow her. He looked around at the bookshelves as he walked behind her. He ducked his head under a short doorway, and she stopped abruptly, causing Ethan to run into her back. She turned around and smiled brightly up at him. He looked around.

Ethan felt his chest tighten. The walls were covered with Ghostface and Stab merch, a robe was dressed on a mannequin that sat in the center of the room. Pictures of previous Ghostfaces hung on the wall, including him. She laughed nervously as she watched him take everything in.

There was a section of the room specific to his family, specific to him. He had seen the fangirls that made threads online about him, just like his brother, but he never thought he’d meet one in person.

“Yeah, I’ve made quite the collection. It took too long for merch of you and your family to be made, so I just made it myself.” She giggled. Ethan only looked at a picture of his father and sister in horror, mouth agape. “I’m sorry, but I just have to know, did you do it?”

Ethan jerked his head towards her.

“Do what?”

“You know,” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Kill Anika and Paul.”

Ethan clenched his fists. This is exactly what he wanted to escape from. He didn’t want to be constantly reminded of his sins.

“Excuse me?”

“C’mon, everyone wants to know.”

He shook his head, and her shoulders slumped. She seemed extremely disappointed, like her favorite singer had turned out to be an awful person. It was the opposite in this case. “Oh,”

He still, he only stared at her in shock, not knowing what to say or do.

“People argue that you were the one who did the bodega kills, but I don’t know. I think that one was too vanilla for you. You like to be hands-on and kill with your blade, so there’s no way you’d chase Sam and Tara around with a gun.”

“Mary, please. Whatever you believe, I’m not gonna say anything. I’m trying to move on from who I used to be.” Ethan ignored her previous statement, pleading to her that she’d drop the subject.

She adjusted her glasses. “Yeah but, you don’t have to do that here. I want you to be yourself.”

Ethan sighed at her. She really wasn’t going to let his past go was she?

“So, um, about that interview.” Ethan said. She nodded, and her hands played with the strings of her hoodie.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re hired.” She smiled, walking out of the room. Ethan sighed, knowing she was gonna be awkward to work with. He put up books onto shelves, following the chart Mary had given him. Soft music filled his ears as he worked.

He’d space out here and there. The lyrics of the song he listened to would be incoherent, the titles of the books he fixed blurred. He would hear their screams, Y/N and Chad’s. He could hear it faintly as he zoned out.

He remembers it as if it were yesterday. The way their bodies twitched as he stabbed them. The way their blood stained his robe, and even his clothes underneath.

He’d wanna hurt himself every time he thought about it. He would go to the bathroom to take a breather, and then he’d come back, starting all over.

Every so often as he worked, he’d look over his shoulder to glance at Mary, who would look away once his eyes landed on her. Yeah, this was gonna be a problem.

Ethan sat behind the desk, finished with his training as he began to clock out. He smiled brightly at his phone. A picture of Ollie glew on his screen, he wore a fluffy brown onesie, and Y/N’s smiling face was behind him as she held him up. He loved Ollie, deeply, and even though he thought he had changed, he would kill anyone for him. He loved Y/N too, sometimes he loved Chad.

Y/N

Chad & I are almost there

6:00 pm

“Is that your kid?” Mary appeared over Ethan’s shoulder.

“Jesus!” Ethan yelped, dropping his phone.

Mary grabbed his phone, zooming in on the picture. She squinted her eyes, before Ethan yanked his phone out of her hands. “Yes, that’s Ollie.” Ethan answered. Mary nodded and stepped back. It had only been a few hours of Ethan knowing Mary, and already he was uncomfortable at her presence. It was obvious she was a fan of his, another die hard fanatic that fabricated theories. The door rang, and Ethan couldn’t move around Mary fast enough. “Hey!”

Y/N smiled, holding Ollie in a green baby wrap. Her hair was up in a bun, and Ollie still wore the onesie from the picture. Chad walked in as well after her, and all Ethan wanted to do was go home with them.

“We’re closed,” Mary said in a monotone voice. She glared at Y/N, and specifically Chad.

“It’s okay they’re picking me up,” Ethan said before Chad or Y/N could reply. Ethan hunched down slightly as he greeted Ollie, making a funny face, opening his mouth in a smile. Ollie giggled and swung his arms as he stimmed. “C’mere,” Ethan said in his baby voice, giving Ollie a fat and wet kiss on Ollie’s cheek.

Y/N giggled as she watched the two, but Chad stared at Mary in dominance. She stared back.

“So you have my number right?” Mary nodded in response.

“I’ll send you your schedule.”

“Thanks,” Ethan trailed off, opening the door for Y/N. He didn’t tell them about Mary’s shrine, or her obsession with him. He couldn’t. He knew he’d feel guilty if he brought up the past, and he didn’t feel like talking about it anymore tonight.

—

Ethan hid behind a curtain as he watched Quinn chase after the others. His mask was off, and his cheeks were stained with tears. He replayed his last moments with Y/N in his head. As soon as the knife broke skin, he regretted everything he did. She was the first person to ever show Ethan love, and he hurt her like it was nothing.

His father’s voice played in his head over and over again.

“If you kill them, you’d be doing the world a favor.”

“It’s not easy what you and your sister are doing, and I need you to be perfect.”

“Richie would be proud of you.”

The night he killed Anika, his father praised him. He praised him like Ethan was Richie. And Ethan finally felt a part of the family. That was the only night he didn’t cry himself to sleep at the thought of Y/N’s near death.

Ethan’s eyes darkened, and he slid the mask back onto his head. Chad just punched Quinn, knocking her down. Ethan’s legs bounced up and down as he watched Chad lift a glass candy dispenser in the air, preparing to throw it on Quinn.

Chad had done everything for Ethan. He urged Ethan to ask Y/N out, disregarding his own feelings, and he was the one who pushed them together. He was the one who took Ethan to everything, and he always made sure to make him feel included. He was Ethan’s only friend.

He huffed as he rushed in, stabbing Chad in the side.

—

“So, you think you’ll like it?” Chad asked, mouthful of one of the tacos they had picked up on their way home.

Ethan shrugged, picking off tomatoes from his food. “Seems alright,” Y/N cut a few strawberries up, feeding Ollie small chunks as she listened.

“Your boss seems weird.” Chad stated simply. The truth was, Chad wasn’t an idiot. He had plenty of experience of reading people’s emotions from their behavior. He knew Mary most likely was attracted to Ethan, and that pissed Chad off. In a weird way, Chad only wanted Y/N and Ethan to himself. Three was enough in their relationship.

Not that they were in a relationship, of course.

Ethan nodded in agreement as he rewrapped his taco.

“These are the best tacos, I swear to god,” Y/N groaned, taking a bite.

Chad chuckled. “I’m surprised you’re not tired of them. You had them like every day when you were pregnant.” Ethan smiled awkwardly, not knowing how to react to that. It wasn’t any secret about how much Chad was there for her when Ethan…well wasn’t.

Chad noticed Ethan’s change of demeanor, and he casually rested his palm on Ethan’s knee. Ethan’s eyes widened at his hand placement, and he gulped, not knowing how to react to that.

“Dadda,”

Ethan jerked his head towards the sound. Ollie was standing in front of the couch, next to Ethan’s legs. His small hands rested on the couch cushion, and he started jumping up and down.

“Did,” Ethan’s voice suddenly became high-pitched. “Did he say that to me?”

Ollie’s eyes glimmered at Ethan, his gummy smile showing.

“He’s lookin’ at you,” Chad responded in a whisper. “He only ever calls me daddy anyway, not that I blame him…”

Y/N threw a couch cushion at Chad, who laughed as it hit him in the chest. Ollie reached for Ethan, insisting that he’d pick him up. Ethan obliged happily, and he rested Ollie in his big arms.

“Did you call me dadda?” Ethan asked, smiling at Ollie. Ollie giggled, and Ethan’s heart swooned. He’d never felt this way before in his life. Y/N stared happily at the two boys, and she glanced at Chad, who also grinned ear to ear. Maybe this could work, maybe they could be a family; all of them. Maybe they could forget about the Ethan that hurt them, maybe he was gone.

Ethan kissed Ollie’s cheek and blew a raspberry, earning a loud laugh from him. Y/N let out an involuntary choked laugh as she held back tears. Ethan stood up, sliding Ollie to sit on his hip.

“Think we should celebrate with some shots, huh?” Ethan baby-talked to Ollie as he tickled his belly. Y/N gave Chad a pointed look after Ethan spoke. Chad cleared his throat.

“Don’t you think it’s a little late?” Chad asked Ethan cautiously. “Don’t you have work in the morning?”

Ethan turned around, his smile slowly dropping. “I think I can handle one shot.”

“Eth, you’ve already had four beers,” Y/N said softly, gesturing to the empty bottles that sat on the coffee table. Ethan’s eyes followed to the table.

“Let’s just go to bed.” Chad spoke again, his tone more stern this time. Ethan rolled his eyes, and Y/N stood up next to him, adjusting her jeans.

Ethan stepped away from her. “I wanna have a shot.” She shook her head and sighed. Her fingers pressed to her temple, applying pressure. Chad stood up as well.

“Dude, just go to bed. You’ve had enough to drink.” Chad warned, rolling his sleeves up. Ethan ignored both of them, taking Ollie into the kitchen with him. Y/N sternly said his name as she followed him, Chad behind her.

Ethan grabbed a shot glass from the cabinet, and he reached his hand to the top of the fridge. His head snapped up once he realized the bottle of liquor wasn’t up there.

“I threw it out.” Chad stated as he leaned against the counter opposite of Ethan. Ethan groaned at his words.

He couldn’t take being sober anymore, even tipsy, he needed something. He needed to feel the burn of alcohol soothe down his throat. He needed to make the noises go away. He needed to stop hearing his father’s voice. He needed to forget about that day, and he needed Chad and Y/N to stop looking at him like that.

Chad cautiously walked up to him, holding his arms out to take Ollie. “Go away,” Ethan mumbled, but he wasn’t talking to Chad. The voices of his father rang in his head.

You were born to hurt people.

Chad put two hands on Ethan’s shoulders, which caused Ethan to tense.

You’re not good enough to be my son.

“Come on dude, just come to bed. We want you to come to bed.” Chad whispered to Ethan, gently rubbing his shoulders. Ollie babbled to himself, and Chad smiled at him and put his hand and the back of Ollie’s head. Ethan saw this, and he immediately reached to grab a knife from the knife block.

Chad’s eyes widened, and he stepped back.

“Get the fuck away from me!” Ethan screamed, holding the knife up at both of them. Y/N held her hands up in defense, her eyes flicking to Ollie, who started to cry. She slowly said his name and walked towards him, hoping to take Ollie from his arms.

Ethan turned the knife towards her, causing her to stop in her tracks. “Ethan, please,” she cried. While Ethan was distracted by her, Chad inched towards Ollie, finally sliding him out of Ethan’s arms. Ethan turned towards Chad, and for a split, measly second, he saw his father. He saw his father instead of Chad, and he laughed sinisterly as he held Ollie.

He couldn’t let Ollie get hurt, he made a promise. He swung the knife, cutting his father’s arm. Y/N and Ollie’s cries filled Ethan’s ears as he watched the blood seep down his arm. But it wasn’t his father’s groans he heard, it was Chad’s.

He looked back up with widened eyes. Chad clutched Ollie in his left arm, and he hissed as he looked at the fresh cut on his right. Chad looked at him in horror and anger.

Ethan’s hand shook as he slowly looked at the knife in his hand. He heard ringing in his ears as the knife fell from his hands, clattering on the floor.

“I-I…I’m sorry,” Ethan stammered. He looked at the blood splatters on the floor from the knife. His eyes started to water, and he cried along with Ollie. Chad mumbled something to Y/N, and she shakily took Ollie into her room. “Y/N wait,” Ethan begged as he tried to follow her. Chad stopped him by pushing his forearm against Ethan’s chest.

“Leave it,” Chad muttered. Ethan’s chest rose up and down as he stared at him. Chad looked like he was about to cry, but he repeatedly blinked and held back his tears.

Chad whimpered as he looked at his arm, and Ethan immediately reached for him. “Let me help,” he offered in a small voice, but Chad jerked away.

Ethan had never hated himself more than now. He thought he could change, become a different person than the one his father molded him to be. Maybe he was wrong. Was his father right? Was Ethan always going to be like this? Maybe Ethan should have stayed in jail, and he silently cursed the person who bailed him out.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a whisper as Chad picked up the knife. Chad didn’t say anything, he only glanced at Ethan before leaving him alone in the kitchen. It was mere minutes Ethan stood there, alone with the blood stains on the floor, until he finally left. And as Y/N stitched Chad’s arm, exchanging soft whispers and tears with each other, Ollie peacefully sleeping in their bed, the dresser moved back to barricade the door, Ethan went to the one place he knew he was welcome at.

(Taglist: @onlyreadz, @lloyd907, @hearts4meeks, @emitaylorsverson, @depressedseaweed, @athenalive, @b3bybunny, @aliciacat20, @whoaitsbibi, @fallinforhappiness, @Dabbin22, @leyla-1905, @sflame15-blog, @i-love-milfs2, @zerodotzer0, @ahalliwell5, @gabbylovesreading, @wishyouwere-sober, @leaveitbythewave, @itsnotino, @elltheawkward, @writinganything, @buffhoshi, @reysdriver, @asapkyndall, @champomiel)

#scream #scream 6 #scream vi #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #jack champion #ghostface x reader #ethan kirsch #chad meeks x reader #chad meeks martin #ethan landry fluff #mason gooding #chad meeks x ethan landry

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moonsanoverthinker · 6 months

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Just some of my own TMA headcanons (I’m probably just gonna keep adding to the list on occasion or maybe make another list, who knows) - Edit I made another list which is a little more chaotic I won’t lie

Also I’m interested if people have any of their own that they’d want to add because I love reading other people’s x

There will probably be spoilers in this list but I’ll try to keep it broad :) x

Tim always wears short sleeves regardless of the weather

On the opposite Sasha always got a cardigan, she might not be wearing it but it’s stashed somewhere

Jon probably bit someone as a child

Martin had a folder on his work computer with pictures of cows in it

Sasha used to keep a picture of the four of them in her desk - Not Sasha got rid of it

Distortion Helen uses her hands a lot when she speaks

Elias irons his ties and then organises them by colour (They’re all the same colour but he claims the shades are different)

Martin and Jon used to play card games but Jon stopped once he realised he always knew what Martins cards were

Tim would wear those socks with the days of the week on them but would make a point of wearing the wrong socks on the wrong days just to annoy Jon

Martin likes to collect pin badges

Sasha’s definitely thrown a pen at Tim - She threatens to throw one at Martin but never would

Tim paints his nails on occasion and convinced Martin to do it a couple times, who in turn convinced Jon to do it

Specifically series 1 Jon had Martin for secret Santa and he have him a mug with a cow on it - Jon denied it every time he was asked

Martins the better baker but Jons the better cook -

Jon will tell everyone in the kitchen to get out if he’s cooking

Martin had a nightlight while sleeping at the institute and never told anyone but Jon found it once and replaced the batteries just in case they were close to running out

Distortion Helen seems like the kind of avatar to have a load of bracelets but those ones that make noise when someone moves their arm

Edit: I just wanted to say that I’m genuinely overwhelmed by the response to this because this is first time I’ve made a post like this of my own and people have been very lovely about it all and yeah this just my little soppy thank you for it xx

#tma headcanons #the magnus archives #these were so fun to make #I’ve started series five and I’m scared #the magnus archives memes #the magnus archives headcannon #this was my first time doing something like this #feel free to add more because I love these so much #I’m just gonna keep adding ones as I think of them #I love using tumblr to brain dump things because then I don’t have to explain the lore of characters for them to make sense #tma podcast #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #sasha james #tim stoker #tma shitpost

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whump-thoughts · 7 months

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PLEASE girl, I am begging yall to write more pet whump with Older Whumpee and Younger Caretaker. The possibilities for fluff and the fucked up shit are endless why does it feel I am the only insane man to see the potential

#whump #pet whump #older whumpee #younger caretaker #conditioning #martin's stash #let it be known that i also mean non romantic. i see yall shipping whumpee's and their caretakers and raise you “no thank you”#also add non human whumpee to that and make it so what Caretaker thought was a very big old dog #turns out to be a werewolf old enough to be their father. that's also extremely mentally unwell. welp! what can you.

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ray-elgatodormido · 1 year

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Yoga master Jauffre here to provide lore

#Idk if I shared this but oh well #Before you ask how I got that to happen: Martin smacked him around after I fiddled with the console #Something like this always happen when I pick up Oblivion or Skyrim #Two of the most beautifully broken games ever made #oblivion #tesblr #cursed gameplay stash

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sweet-fading-summer-love · 2 months

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Hollywood History

Made with the pairing intent of Reader x Elvis Presley, and Reader x Marlon Brando

Summary - As a new actor from the South steps onto Hollywood's acting scene, his presence sends the Hollywood veterans into a bit of a stir.

Warnings - Smoking, swearing, drinking, some undermining of Elvis' acting ability by certain characters. Not many warnings truthfully, just a little blurb that I never got around to finishing the ending of.

Author's Note: Oh this little piece, and its other bits stashed away, I've held dear to me, but it will only ever be an idea that I can't quite articulate at the moment, so here's a short bit from it. As I dusted this off I feel all those fuzzy feelings coming back, so for now I'll call it the intro piece to this little two-parter.

The party was going great. Though it wasn't quite all that much like a party. Many studio heads had come together to have a giant dinner, bringing their best actors along with them to showcase the worth of their studio to make an appearance of themselves.

You sat at one of the many round tables with actor friends, some of whom were from your studio. There was Marilyn Monroe, Dean Martin, Marlon Brando, Rita Hayworth, Gregory Peck, and now and then Judy Garland popped by the table to talk to you and Marlon about the minutiae of how a few of the big wigs were getting along.

Sometime in the conversation, greased-up black hair that belonged to a very nervous man across the room caught Rita's eye, making her smile mischievously as she brought up a rather controversial topic to the table.

"Say, what do you think of the new guy, Y'know the one from the South, Eric Presley something or other…"

You corrected in good spirits over the rim of your champagne glass before taking a sip,

"Elvis Presley, dear"

"Ah yes, that Elvis Presley"

A few friends at the round table grimaced and made faces of an unsure, disapproving nature. The man was a hot topic among you and your Hollywood friends, after all, it seemed he was trying to take the movie business by storm after having conquered the music business, along with dozens of hearts of silly school girls who'd be better off focusing on their studies.

Your date, Marlon, blew out the corner of his mouth after taking a long thoughtful huff, keeping the smoke from going into your vicinity as a gentleman should. Then after staring at an empty corner of the table for a while, he shrugged as he leaned forward to put the cigarette out in the ashtray. After sitting back on his chair his hand that rested atop your thigh slid back a little with his movement, not that you'd complain too much.

"Frankly, uh" he started, "The guy's a phony, I-I mean he's riding on the tail of his music, it's a fucking mockery of actors. When he makes a movie where he doesn't sing, then, eh, maybe I'll think differently. But that's another ten years coming at least."

"Well," Marilyn's breathy voice made itself known, leading all eyes to land on her as she tilted her head to Dean, who seemed a tad uncomfortable at the statement. Dean had started with music just like the Presley kid, and eventually branched out to acting as well.

Marlon laughed incredulously at how his words had been taken into offense by his longtime friend. He brought his hands up to gesture his well-meaning as he explained, "It's different with people like you Dean, Sinatra too, there's a big difference. Elvis Presley is, well uh, let me not spoil our mood eh?"

His voice had risen in pitch as it always did whenever he was about to break into a laugh. Everyone laughed a small laugh at what he was implying and continued with their smoking and drinking. But being the devil's advocate, you said something just to stir the pot.

"He seems to be a good fit for dramatic roles, those last two films were-"

Marlon cut you off,

"-were his last two movies if there's a God."

As everyone laughed including yourself at the jest, Marilyn leaned forward and lightly swatted at Marlon's chest before ordering with a commanding yet soft voice,

"Oh you dog, let her finish, let her finish"

You sent her an appreciative smile as she sent you a wink. After the laughs subsided all eyes were on you as you finished your statement, "All I'm saying is his last two films show promise as a dramatic actor"

Everyone took what you said with a grain of salt, even Marlon nodded with thought. His hand slid along your thigh as he turned his body entirely to you while in his chair.

"Well Honey, uh you see the thing is, anyone can act. I mean everyone's an actor, every day, so I don't doubt his skills as an actor, he could be a great actor I don't know, but he's got no essence. He's got uh, too many idiosyncrasies that pull away from the actual film, the actual character. I mean, really he could never pull off sending an adage through his films, or-"

"And you think you could?"

You stared at Marlon stone-faced after cutting him off. Everyone's faces fell flat, including Marlon's as he was taken aback by the uncharacteristic action, but after a few moments, he smiled and let out a noise of amusement as he realized what you were doing, "Honey, I already have"

You smiled as it seemed he caught on to your little devil's advocate act, following your smile the rest of your friends around the table also caught on and began to laugh while internally letting out a breath.

You often were placating and adaptable, but when it came to someone who you shared a connection with, someone like Marlon, you often let a bit of internal venom slip through the cracks. And with Marlon being the way he is, the combination of you and him led to a tumultuous on-and-off relationship often covered by magazine tabloids. For a moment everyone worried that the next coverage of your relationship would be from an argument over something as silly as a boy from the South, trying to make a name for himself in the film industry.

In the end, you two always found each other again. But there was often a bit of straying here and there…

And who knew that the amateur actor, the boy from the South, would be the one to lead you astray?

#elvis presley fic #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x reader #elvis x oc #elvis x you #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #marlon brando #marlon brando x reader #marlon brando x oc #marlon brando x y/n #elvis fic #elvis presley x you #elvis presley fandom #elvis presley

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pantiesandpamperssissypart2 · 3 months

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"It's not okay, you know that, right?"

Jason was startled as he stared at his laptop in the living room. His wife Amber had just come from the basement. "I saw you post some stupid meme on your fucking Tumblr. About how you wear diapers and it's okay. It's not. You're not so fucking gone that you think that, are you?"

He sat there silently. Occasionally, ever since he had confessed his love for diapers and shown her his Tumblr and explained this is who he really was, she would have these little outbursts about his desires. Usually she just wanted to blow off steam. She had said she would never ever participate in his desires and had also cut him off from all sex or intimacy. But she'd said he could do what he wanted and she'd of course keep his secret. "Not like I want others knowing I married a diaper freak!" So he kept posting on Tumblr where he was anonymous and sometimes when she was at work and he was working from home he'd get out his stash and wear. And now he'd seen a cute meme and posted it to let others like him know he wore and it was okay!

But instead of leaving Amber kept standing there. And now she sat on the couch.

"It's revolting, is what it is. It's hard to believe a Stanford grad is so stupid he doesn't realize that. You gave up sex with your wife to wear a toilet around your waist. No, sorry. A sewer around your waist. And not only that, you do it not because it's a medical necessity, which would be gross enough but hey it happens to old folks in nursing homes, I suppose, but it's the sole source of your sexual pleasure. Like when you hear those words said aloud to you by a woman, it doesn't register that it's not okay that you wear diapers?"

Jason tried blurting something out but nothing came. He was kind of scared, she'd never acted like this since his revelation. Now she burst out laughing. "God. I can just picture you sitting here. Typing to your little friends, seeing some dumb photoshop that some imbecile put together in 3 seconds and you repost it as if it's as deep and meaningful as Martin Luther King Junior talking in Washington. You. Wear. Diapers. You shit and piss in diapers because it makes your pathetic excuse for a cock hard. And you think that's a-okay in today's society. You thought I would somehow, what, want to be your mommy. My god."

Was this ending soon? He hoped it did.

"So, I kind of changed my mind. Since you apparently think it's okay and you want to share that, I've done that. Figure everyone will know I'm not at fault and will feel bad for me. So I got over my fear of everyone knowing who I'd married. Now they'll know who I ditched. A diaper freak."

His jaw dropped.

"Yeah. All those pics on your laptop, few days ago I downloaded them to an external drive for safekeeping. Was never going to do anything with them but after seeing this idiotic post of yours where you apparently want everyone to know you're a Pampers-wearing pansy, well, guess what. I just sent them to your family. And mine. And your work. And friends. And everyone on that 10-year high school reunion facebook page of yours. Told them you revealed this to me and are loud and proud and want to be seen in your diapers and you think it's okay and they should too. Also, I'd like you out of here tonight. Like, 10 minutes ago but 10 minutes from now works too. Time for diaperboy to be who he is!"

Jason still hadn't moved. Still hadn't said a word. That's when his phone started blowing up. Just like his life.

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sightofsea · 2 months

Text

frasier episode where frasier is incredibly stressed for some reason so daphne decides to soothe everybody using one of her 'herbal remedies' in her cookies. she means to use chamomile but through sitcom logic somehow mixes up chamomile with her weed stash and everybody gets ass blasted high. this proves to be some trouble because frasier's point of stress was an elaborate dinner party with some fellow psychiatrists. roz attempts to hook up with one of the psychiatrists and seems to be doing completely fine on edibles until she gets a case of the giggles and starts honking. martin also gets the giggles. they are quarantined to daphne's room, where she is simply chilling and eating potato chips. frasier becomes increasingly paranoid that all the other psychiatrists know that he's high and tries to hide it to varying success and failure. frasier can't bring himself to call daphne a stoner/let niles know he's high so he says that he's feeling odd because daphne is living "an alternative lifestyle". this causes niles to think daphne is a lesbian. after eating one of the weed cookies as a means of solace, he starts spiraling and eventually comes to the conclusion that if daphne is a lesbian, he will simply have to become a woman. he declares this to the entire dinner party. the episode ends with tossed salads and scrambled eggs playing as everybody lays down on the balcony, looking at the stars and eating potato chips. eddie steals the bag of chips for himself. the end.

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oh-saints · 1 year

Text

sunshine becomes you (pt. 4)

Being a footballer means Martin possibly has every resources in his whim. Well, except the one thing he needs now is only available in the hands of his (ex) girlfriend.

Grumpy!Martin Ødegaard x Sunshine!OC

Word Count: 4.0k

Note: please, please, please don't hate me for this lolol but we're going for a rollercoaster, odegirlies, so brace yourself! but as usual, i happen to write this around dawn so ofc not beta-read yet. feedbacks are welcome tho!

Tags: my lovely loves @julianalvarez9 @formula1tina @okayline @mehrmonga @mrswhitethornbelikov @notleclerc <3<3 (lemme know if you want to be added!)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5

It seemed Martin couldn’t operate around her if there was no false pretense standing between him and Eve.

The moment the clock literally struck 12, lightning struck back Eve’s life and returned them to normalcy. So normal that everyone else but her barely noticed the apparent changes unravelling around London Colney; she was back to Eve the receptionist, and Martin was back to his constantly-grumpy state to no one but Eve.

No more was the beautiful-looking couple captivating the entire Christmas Gala with their explosive, fantastic chemistry that shunned even the longest relationship existing in the same room.

She’d like to think going back to square one was better, given their real circumstances, but Martin wasn’t giving her any edges. Worse, he’d gone barely seen, and that was saying a lot when Eve was known to be the ghost of the building, for her immaculate presence all over the facility.

Some said he snuck in when Eve was always busy running errands; some said he arrived before anyone else in the morning; some said he clocked out later than the security team.

Final straw came when everyone was gathering in the canteen to bid Eve farewell on her very last day of working in the amazing club. Every single person working at London Colney—including Bob, even—applauded her for the fantastic job she’d been doing for the club, despite the short time shared on the grounds. A certain Norwegian blonde, however, remained unidentifiable until the 15-minute town hall before lunch ended.

Much to the front liner’s dismay, most turned to Eve about it. After all, Eve and Martin were still an item in their eyes. Eve could only do so much as replying, “we just don’t want you guys to be sick of us,” whenever the question of Martin’s avoidance towards crowds was raised, while chucking in the tears that were threatening to slide down her cheeks because she knew better—she knew the truth.

It shouldn’t be breaking Eve’s heart, but the damage had been done.

Eve wanted to badly lie to herself that she was doing that out of spite, that pulling out that degree of stupid stunt was her futile, foolish attempt to get him running after her like those chick-flicks she stashed in her library.

But Eve knew better—reality didn’t fit into Cinderella’s pair of glass heels, especially for someone like her, who fought for proper living standard every day to make ends. Eve and Martin were raised in different circumstances, made from worlds apart, meant for different purposes in life. There was no way they were going to be together—not in this lifetime nor any other alternate universes—as this wasn’t some written fairy tales.

She couldn’t afford a heartbreak when she’d foreseen the fruitless future if she were to share one with him, just like she couldn’t afford the gown she’d returned in the same satin box he’d delivered to her door.

This is for the better, she hypnotised herself as she placed the soft, expensive box on Martin’s bench, trying to pale the ache slicing through her chest. You have a realistic life to live.

Fuck rom-coms. She was going to discard each and every one left in her library as soon as she enjoyed her two-week notice.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

Obviously, with that being said, Eve didn’t have the heart to throw away the only outlets for her to escape the harsh reality for someone who came from a working-class family and inherited the reality of working 9-to-5 like her. Especially when those fake-dating tropes—ironically—reminded her of all the wonderful time she spent with Martin, no matter how fleeting and fragile those moments were.

Weeks after the Christmas Gala, Eve could now proudly say she thought of them as something precious because when else were you indulged in the luxury of being in Martin Ødegaard’s arms, acting or not?

Her best friend bit her ears off for taking the whole thing “like a champ”, as if her heart was made of steel when she was legitimately allowed to swallow the bitter pill while crying her heart out. Eve actually considered doing them, specifically during the first week after the painful no-show of her last day, but she decided against in and focused on the positive notes.

Dwelling over negatives wouldn’t turn around the fact that someone as great as Martin Ødegaard was destined for someone his calibre, someone that was definitely not Eve.

So it didn’t make any sense when she found Martin, already leaning against his car with hands in his pocket—undoubtedly hiding them against the cold air of a very early morning—as she walked down the porch of her flat. From where she stood, frozen at the unprecedented event unfolding before her eyes, his side profile gave away nothing but pursed lips, like he was holding off his thoughts from spilling.

Oh, how much Eve wanted a penny for that beautiful mind of his.

But she couldn’t. Unlike the night of the Christmas gala, Martin revoked her access to them. What used to be something easy for Eve to read between the lines was now guarded by a fence so high it put Wall of China to shame.

“Martin,” At his name being called, the owner of the name stood up straight, and—god damn it—Eve’s heart raced at the movement, for it reminded her of what happened between them in front of that sketchy backdoor toilet. “What are you doing here?

Despite being missing on action for weeks, Eve hated how much Martin still affected her, body and soul. She wasn’t even nearby Martin, distance between them were about 100 metres but might as well have the Atlantic between them like they used to be.

But no matter the palpable distance between where they respectively stood, Martin, on the other hand, would always be able to pick up her signature breathy voice that went only slightly above a whisper. It was the very sound he didn’t know he could miss hearing.

Like she was breathless, like he’d taken her breath away. The same way she did his.

If only he could tell her that… But instead of mulling over endless possibilities that couldn’t happen—not when Eve herself didn’t give them a chance, something she’d blatantly said at the end of Christmas gala—Martin stuck to the one thing he excelled at; choosing reality.

“Angel,” Words flowed effortlessly from Martin’s mouth but his smile was rather tight on the corners, and Eve hated it already when she knew first hand how blinding his real, true smile could be. “I see you’re going to the flower market.”

Had Eve’s eyes not focused on taking in Martin’s appearance, she would’ve swooned at the fact Martin remembered her little peculiar antics of getting a fresh set of flowers every Sunday from the flower market.

But his dishevelled presentation, so striking to the well-kempt display he always had everywhere, stole away her attention. It wasn’t only the mess on top of his hair, of his blonde locks gone astray to every direction; it was also the garments he threw on without a care in the world, all in black, like he was mourning.

His blue eyes descended to the deepest pit of the ocean, no longer shining in the glint she loved the most, especially bright against low lights. Like those eyebags were swallowing them whole, like those eyebags were a blackhole instead of dark circles.

His cheeks sunken, no longer protruding as high as a skyscraper, so different to the image of a Viking everyone labelled the captain as. If Eve didn’t know any better, she would’ve guessed Martin had undergone those cosmetic surgery of buccal fat removal.

He looked so haggard, as if he’d lost weight; exhaustion personified. She could only wonder why—perhaps Arsenal’s losing strike took a toll on him—since asking his well-being was not on the cards anymore, not since they stopped pretending to be lovers, not since Martin didn’t give them a chance.

Martin took his open opportunity when they fell into a pregnant silent. “I’ll take you there.”

“Why are you here?”

“I said I’m taking you to the flower market,” He said, as easy as the wind breezed past them. “What kind of boyfriend am I to let my girlfriend to roam around such crowded places so early in the morning?”

The indifference he showed, both in words and action, caught her off-guard. He was back to display the whole no-shit-sherlock attitude around her, complete with the expressionless face, like she should know the most obvious fact, and Eve had to remind herself that this was the real Martin, not the one that fooled everyone attending the Christmas gala.

Including Eve herself.

“You’re not my boyfriend, Martin.”

“In the eyes of the public, I am,” Martin shrugged his shoulder so nonchalantly, as if it didn’t hurt Eve to know he was doing just fine barging into her life like it was the most natural thing to do for him. “My family included.”

Wait, what?

“I need your help,” He continued, his hands moved from the pockets of his jacket to the pockets of his jeans. It scared Eve when he said those massive, literally burdensome words with squared shoulders and calm demeanour and collected composure—she felt like she was his opponent on the pitch. “My family went to the game today, only to be ambushed by many congratulations that I’ve scored a wonderful, lovely match of a girlfriend. One that that they don’t know of because it’s one I never tell them—”

“Because she doesn’t exist.”

“She did during the gala, but that’s not the point,” Martin had to grind out his teeth from the inside, the perfect epitome how her words gnawed his heart from inside out because while they were nothing but facts, it didn’t make them any less hurtful to him—and to what could’ve been between them. “They want to have lunch with you today.”

Martin let out the last sentence with a heavy puff of breath. With the way his jaw ticked tightly, Eve could tell he hated saying that, like he’d take any other option but to ask her to pretend once more if he had the chance.

Maybe he’d told his family about us pretending but his family didn’t accept such a ridiculous pretense that they forced him to talk to her, and that the lunch was merely their effort to amend them. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was,” See, he even wished to have nothing to do with me anymore. Did he hate me so much? “You should know by now that being honest with you is something I wish to uphold.”

“Even when our relationship is a farce?”

Martin didn’t have the heart to answer it, and Eve didn’t have the heart to acknowledge the pregnant silence.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“You had a game today, you’re supposed to be resting.”

Boyfriend or not, Martin really intended to come along by Eve’s side to the flower market, despite her initial protests and complaints. No one in the right mind went to the flower market alone at 2 in the morning, without a proper transportation on top of that.

Taxi and Uber certainly didn’t count as a safety mode of transportation for Martin. You never know what can possibly happen in that small space of four-wheeler—we’ve seen too much of real-life cases that happens to women.

I’ve been doing this for ages, but she failed to realise that just because something never happened to her, it wasn’t going to happen. In Martin’s defence, he had a sister himself and he didn’t want anything bad happen to Eve the way he didn’t want them to happen to his sister.

I am used to this, Martin, but she didn’t have to get used to those things. She didn’t have to get used to all these dangerous things she downplayed as normalcy because he knew that she had the options, she’d definitely want to take the tube or buses. She could be having what her heart desires—she should be.

No matter what went down between them at the end of the day, Martin would certainly give her a flak if she settled with someone less than what she deserved.

And no, that lucky bastard didn’t have to be Martin.

It wasn’t going to be Martin anyway, Eve made it clear at the very end of their contractual relationship once a long while ago.

“Can’t sleep well lately, anyway.”

Martin’s phlegmatic manner was now in sync—his actions were now as schooled as his facial features. His hands ran down the flower petals thoughtlessly, not giving anything of his mind away, just like his hardened expressions. Aloof, and Eve took it as a sign to reduce her small talks.

“You should see Doc about it.”

“You think I haven’t done that?” Eve’s hearts plummeted along with the way he sputtered the words, as if she should be smarter about the whole ordeal, and this time Eve was the one who had to school her expression so Martin couldn’t see her disappointment towards his attitude—he must not see them. The last time she gave away too much of her, she ended up doing rom-coms marathon with a tube of Ben n Jerry’s. “Doc’s prescribed me something but it’s no use,”

It might be the stress talking…, Eve tried to reason with herself.

“I don’t see the point of meds, to be honest,” Martin let out another heavy sigh as his hand ran through his hairs, messing them in frustrations. “Not when I’ve been restless since you’re gone.”

How could she possibly have a proper response to that?

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“There they are!”

Martin didn’t even have the chance to open Eve’s door completely before his mother ran down the porch towards his car to engulf Eve in the warmest hug Eve had ever gotten from a woman. Funny—despite never meeting his mother before, Eve had the most familiar feeling around her, like they were old friends reunited, and she didn’t know what to feel.

Partly because she didn’t share the same sentiment with her own mother, partly because she felt guilty that his mother had already welcomed her in this house like she was truly Martin’s girlfriend when, in fact, she wasn’t even close to what the word meant.

It didn’t even take his mother a minute to lead her towards the house, like she owned the residential instead of a visiting his son’s abode, asking if Eve had any food allergy that she should be aware of. That was amongst the things she questioned; others were trivial questions in order to get to know his son’s girlfriend.

With the swift pace his mother was speaking, though, Eve had to look beyond his mother’s shoulder to throw a help-me look to Martin because there was no way she could survive this on her own.

Eve couldn’t bring to hate herself for always seeking Martin’s aid this time around, no matter how much she wanted to be free of him. Like she promised herself internally just before she plopped down beside Martin on the passenger seat.

“That’s enough, mamma,” Martin strode his way towards the two of them, one hand reached for his mother’s that was grippling the life of Eve to set Eve free, before both hands clenched her shoulder gently. “She hasn’t even taken off her coat, but she’s allergic to shrimp and other soft-shell seafood.”

“Oh no, I’ve made crayfish—”

“It’s okay, she can have your venison,” Eve didn’t have time to discern anything because everything happened at the same time she didn’t even have time to breathe, not even the fact that Martin had gained information on her allergies, so she was lucky Martin took over the conversation. She shed her coat when Martin wordlessly tugged the wool piece, both of their eyes still set on the powerhouse that was his mother, and at that interaction, the matron smiled wider. “By the way, my mother makes the best venison, solskinn. Glad you can finally try them.”

“Ah, the infamous roasted venison you love? What’s that called again?”

“Dyresteg,” His mother answered for her, before Martin could have the chance. At the speed of lightning his mother unknowingly possessed—at least, one that he got to know of until today, in front of Eve, more over—Martin forced himself to look up from the set of eyes that reminded him of the deer but belonged to Eve. “I see that Martin’s told you about his soulfood.”

“He can’t shut up about it,” Eve elbowed Martin teasingly and the man replied by faking pain at it, which resulted in them both laughing without constraint. Without an underlying justification called fake dating between them. “Maybe I should learn one thing or two while the master is here so I can cook them for you.”

“That’s—” Eve’s response, however, startled both Martin and his mother. While Martin was rather taken aback at the genuine tone Eve used—because now he really couldn’t draw the line which one was the real Eve, unlike the night of the Christmas gala—his mother was caught off guard because she couldn’t recall the last time someone had ever offered to do such thing for Martin. Living in a different country meant she couldn’t cook her son’s favourite dish whenever she wanted to, and so far the girlfriends her son managed to take home didn’t care about anything beyond the luxury he could give them. “That’s very lovely of you. I hope you bring your notes.”

But to say she liked Eve already would be an understatement. Eve didn’t make it difficult to take her into everyone’s good side, as well, and as a mother, Eve had nailed in the moment she typed down every instruction she was giving Eve to make the perfect dyresteg. And maybe also little moments where Martin stole little pecks on her cheeks from behind whenever he was getting his brothers and sisters something from the fridge—because she knew her son only did that out of gratitude, the same way he used to do it to his mother whenever she was cooking this particular favourite dish of his.

At one point of cooking, everyone was flocking the kitchen and before they knew it, Martin’s brothers and sisters were already drilling the Norwegian captain’s embarrassing stories during childhood.

“Do you remember the time where he got lost because he followed someone he thought was mamma?”

“No way!” Eve’s eyes bulged out in pure surprise that Martin couldn’t help but laugh, instead of stopping his older brother’s beginning of Martin’s most embarrassing anecdote. “What happened?”

Martin’s mother noticed Eve’s focus was slowly shifting from dyresteg to the tale Christoph was giving so she dismissed the younger woman, only for Eve to realise there was no seat left on the kitchen island.

Martin didn’t think twice to pull her by the waist towards him, “Come here.”

“This feels oddly familiar,” Eve laughed under her breath, not wanting to disrupt Christoph’s flow in retelling his story, but enough only for Martin to hear, as she settled in the room between his legs. “Don’t tell me to sit on your lap again this time, we have your youngest sister watching.”

“Yes, mother,” Their position, her back on his front, eased up Martin’s way to reply her in a whisper, and they fell back to the smooth flow they had constructed during the Christmas gala. “I will behave.”

And behave he did. Without further words, Martin gave up his seat for Eve while he stood by behind her. His mother didn’t miss the way Martin never let go of Eve, always having an arm around the woman’s waist at least.

She also didn’t miss the way they’d look at each other when laughing, the way her hand covered the one Martin was placing around her hips, or the way he’d kissed the small spot on the temple above her ears while she stroke his square jawline back and forth. At one point, Eve laughed so hard at Christoph’s story that Martin had to envelope her into a back hug and hid himself in the crook of her neck so naturally it almost felt like watching water moulding into a medium’s shape.

She wanted to be jealous, as a mother, but she realised that her son was slowly building a life—his own life—here with someone he truly loved, and as a mother, she couldn’t be happier than knowing someone had taken care of her son very well, especially when he was living too far from her for a mother’s liking.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“Let me help you with that.”

Eve almost dropped the plate on her hands at Martin’s voice creeping from behind. She insisted on washing the dishes—or putting them to the dishwasher, depends on your standard—not because she wanted to play the good girlfriend card, but because she was raised that way; if someone else cooks, dishes are on her shoulder.

She was used to be misunderstood by other about it but before she could explain herself, Martin stepped in and said, “Let her be, Mom. She’s always like that and I can never win.”

Creepy would be an understatement of how well Martin knew things she never had disclosed to anyone.

“You should’ve told me you have such a big family,” Eve tried to break the ice that stood between them, so thin it was barely there, but present nonetheless, especially with the way they stood so close with one another. Shoulder to shoulder, Martin reached for utensils and ceramics Eve finished cleaning. “I would’ve come more prepared in facing your brothers and sisters.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Martin said, and although Eve didn’t see them, she could sense a small smile blossomed in his face. “I hope they don’t overwhelm you.”

“Not at all,” But Eve had to chuckle because come to think of it, Martin’s brothers and sisters could be overwhelming. Maybe they’d got under her skin if she was not pretending to be Martin’s girlfriend. “They’re all so fun to be around with. I wish I have siblings to banter with like yours.”

Martin laughed at Eve’s teasing jab. He could never live down the stupid anecdotes his siblings shared when he was just a kid, could he now?

“So grateful you don’t work at Arsenal anymore,” He crouched down to insert all of the cleaned dishes to the dishwasher. “What a disaster if you spill them to everyone at Colney.”

It wasn’t supposed to rub Eve in all the wrong way but it somehow did. Was he that truly glad to be rid of her?

“Please don’t let me stop that.”

Eve looked up to Martin, who was now standing towering over her, eyes zeroed down on her with a look she couldn’t decipher. And maybe she didn’t want to figure out what lied beneath them, for she was terrified the answer would only hurt her. It was something she found out just now that Martin was rather good at it.

She gave him a small smile to hide what she was thinking, grounding herself to not give any piece of her away and reminding herself the last time she did give herself away, and Martin already hated them. Eve and coerced smile didn’t belong in the same sentence. “Stop what?”

“You smiling. I’ve missed that a lot.”

*solskinn means sunshine in norwegian.

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