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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 17 days

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Enemies to lovers fic, my fave trope to write atm 🫶❤️ 18+ mdni.

If you have an enemies to lovers or any other fic request then send me an ask 💌 these are my request rules 💌💞🎀

🖤🫶

"I hate her" Eddie seethes to the rest of Hellfire as he glares daggers at you, you're perched on one of the tables, surrounded by your friends, the dark side as Eddie likes to call it.

Dustin counts to three and waits for Eddie to begin his rant about you, it happened almost every day at lunch. Like clockwork he's soon gesturing widely as he rants about you and like magnets your eyes are drawn over to him.

You give Eddie a sarcastic little wave and he stiffens in his seat, barely taking his eyes off you as you chat to Ryan, one of Jason's douchebag friends who you have wrapped around your little finger.

"Pathetic" he grumbles as Ryan looks at you all moon eyed and lovestruck.

"I still bet he's like half in love with her" Jeff mutters to Gareth who smirks but freezes as Eddie raises an eyebrow.

"What's that now?" Eddie barks at him and Jeff and Gareth don't say anything else. If they mention about Eddie having feelings for you then they will all get another five minute long rant.

That wasn't good for anyone.

...

You curse Miss O'Donnell for giving you detention, it was the first time you had ever had it and you weren't happy. All of this because you forgot to hand in your homework just the one time.

This week had been so busy that you were barely getting enough sleep and she was ragging on you about one late assignment, you forgot to put it in your bag this morning and could have kicked yourself when you noticed it wasn't there.

You pass Eddie who's in detention more times than he's in class, he stretches his legs out across the only seat left in the room, his leather jacket strewn across it and his metal lunchbox and you frown already infuriated by him.

"Fancy seeing you here princess, I'm shocked" He clutches his chest in mock horror. Ugh. He takes his feet off the desk but his shit is still all around it.

"Can you move your things please?," you smile sweetly and Eddie meets your gaze and shakes his head.

"What's the password sweetheart?" Okay, don't lose your temper, be cool you remind yourself.

"Move them, please and thank you... asshole " you tack on at the end.

"Will you two be quiet and will you sit down" Miss O'Donnell snaps and you huff. Fine, if he won't move his shit. You promptly sit on his knee and he blinks startled. Being this close to him does funny things to your heart. Stupid heart.

Hallelujah he may finally be speechless, for once. You turn around and beam at him.

"Princess, you need to move" he says in a strained voice and you peer at him from beneath your lashes. His breath hitches and you feel that annoying familiar stir of longing for him.

"Oh for the love of god, can't you two behave yourself for one minute. Detention for both of you all week" Miss O'Donnell shouts at you and Eddie and you gape and stand out to protest.

"I have cheer practice on Wednesday and Friday" you argue and Eddie rolls his eyes at you.

"Oh so you can't shake your pom poms for a few days, how awful sweetheart" you narrow your eyes at him and you're about to say something back when Miss O'Donnell orders you both to sit and be quiet.

Thank you very much Eddie Munson you seethe.

💞

"I hate him" you moan to Chrissy who discreetly rolls her eyes. She's heard this every week for two years and is sure the two of you are just hiding how you both really feel.

You watch Eddie who is animatedly chatting about something to his friends. His eyes catch yours and he looks like a deer caught in headlights. Then he comes to and he winks at you. Actually winks at you.

"I hate him" you say and your voice cracks a little bit as your heart beats like crazy in your chest. Chrissy mutters something under her breath, you could swear she says its a thin line between love and hate and you scoff.

"Oh please, there is no way I'm in love with Eddie Munson, he's annoying, he's rude and he hates me as much as I hate him" that thought makes your heart sink a tiny bit, that doesn't make your mood any better.

"Every day you two needle each other, I swear when you were off last term with that sickness bug, Eddie looked like a little lost puppy because you weren't around"

"When he went out with Tammy Thompson that one time, you pouted for three days" you struggled to argue with that one. That intense jealousy you feel when Tammy flirted with Eddie, asked him out on a date that you found out was a disaster.

Not that the fact it went so wrong made you happy or anything. "She sounds like Kermit from the Muppets when she sings, I was thinking of Munson's hearing if he had to listen to her" you supply lamely and Chrissy doesn't buy it.

"You dated Joey Macher for like a week and Eddie made a point to insult him every day of that week" words fail you and you settle for shaking your head in denial.

"That doesn't mean anything" you argue and Chrissy holds her hands up in surrender.

"Hey, hopefully one day you two figure shit out" she sure hopes so, otherwise she's pretty sure her head might explode if the two of you avoid your feelings for much longer.

...

Detention was a nightmare. It was just you Eddie and a few of the stoners, the whole time you sat with a raging headache that almost brought you to tears and you had to listen to Munson for another twenty minutes.

You didn't feel all that great and this was the icing on the cake. When you don't reply to Eddie's latest barb, he scowls.

"What's the matter princess? Cat got your tongue?" you groan and rest your head on your shoulders, make a shushing motion to him.

"Can you stop for like two seconds Munson" you close your eyes for a few seconds and when you open them, Eddie is kneeling at your desk.

"Hey you okay sweetheart?" his sweetness is surprising and it melts your heart just a bit. He actually looks concerned.

"Headache" you answer back and he bites his lip, looks over at Miss O"Donnell who's fast asleep in her chair.

"Do you want to go to the nurses office while the old bat is asleep?" You stifle a giggle and shake your head.

"No, I'll be okay. I just need some sleep" He looks hesitant to leave you, hesitantly you reach out and hook one of your fingers around Eddie's as you fall asleep.

When you wake up as the bell for detention rings, Eddie is sitting on the floor, hand on the desk and your pinky finger is still entwined with his.

💞

The next day you and Eddie are back to your usual banter but you're struggling to forget how sweet he was with you. If he hated you then why did he act so sweet when you were sick?

"Can't you just cut the bullshit for one day Munson, I know you hate me, you blurt out and his dimpled smile wavers, but you were sweet yesterday, really sweet. Are you telling me that meant nothing?" His eyes widen and once again he's robbed of speech, you're so close to him now that if you reached out, you could intertwine your hand with his.

Hesitantly you run your hand up his chest, over the Hellfire logo and watch as his breath stutters and his eyes darken with something akin to want.

"What are you doing?" his voice is thick with longing and you take another step closer, his head dips down as you press your lips to his. Desire floods through your veins at the very touch of your lips on his, before you can do anything else Eddie deepens the kiss.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, just kissing. When you break away from it you feel like you're punch drunk and Eddie looks equally as dazed.

"Well shit" he whispers and you nod, agreeing with his sentiment. Kissing him was like nothing else in this world and you were keen to do it again and again.

"By the way, I don't hate you, far from it princess" Eddie murmurs in an almost reverent tone and his fingers ghost over your cheek as he kisses you again.

You melt into the kiss and wrap your arms around his neck, nibble on his bottom lip and he groans. You don't hate him either, in fact you're pretty sure that Chrissy has been right all along.

Maybe all this time you've been falling in love, bit by bit, every day.

🫶💞

#eddie munson x reader #enemies to lovers #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x y/n

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ikkosu · 22 days

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IKKO, very very important question 🫡💚. How would Pharma act if both him and maybe Tarn or prowl (your choice🫶) were after one persons affection

RAGGHH 🛐🛐🛐 MORNING COMPY!!! :D ❤️❤️❤️❤️🫂🫂

Important question indeed. And of the highest order too 😺☝️ long ramble below because I love those two to bits !!

I wasn't sure if you meant love triangle or individually 😭

Prowl wouldn't act on his affections. He'd hide it at first. And would would battle a long churning conflict between his logical side and his feelings — over countless cubes of engex Ratchet would diagnose him dead after

Mister-cold-to-the-bones-I'd-rather-die-than-ever-smile would definitely manipulate your surroundings to get him closer to you.

He'll move your schedule around, your seat placement (no harm in a little thigh touching, eh?) Maybe even discussing with Optimus about your 'work ethics' so he can flunk out your current superior to take his place. Yeah, sure. Totally because they were under performing. Totally.

He knows you yap alot, ranting about things in general so he purposely dawdles by until you notice him and just,,run your mouth

He pretends he's grumbling, saying it's wasitng his time but he's literally recording EVERYTHING you say so he can recharge to it at night (poor little pookie has nightmares, :( doesn't have anyone to coax him)

And you're always so surprised when he remembers an obscure fact about you,,,like sir,,,that's,,,a little 😅 um

but still you chalk it up to him being the strategic officer in charge of information, so not surprised that he knows

Despite his blatant attitude to you, you really don't fucking know what's his problem. Does he hate you? Does he think you're that bad at your job hes finally taking reign over your responsibilities?

So, confusing. He's like,,,got this stare that borders between his usual scowl and a squint.

And while you think you're about to get demoted, it usually means he's saving a picture of you in his processors. 😭😭 And a little note for it too (new shirt today, very nice.)

He's the type to be so stoned up and cold when he's approaching you, but the moment you smile at him (while imperceptible to you) Internally he feels like hauling himself off a bridge

Why do you exist, if not to make a fool out of him?!???2!#(

Pathetic pining. 100 percent

Doctor pharma on the other hand,,,,just invades your boundaries

🤨he's lucky he's naturally charming, you're not even suspecting why he's suddenly more interested in your wound stitching skills.

He's got his servos on you and guiding you through it and shit, whispering into your ear : "good little pet" for following his instructions to a t. He's obvious about his affections but not so vocal because while he recognizes hes caught some feelings for you there's no way he's going to be the one admitting it

So he showers you with gifts, flowers, and chocolates, waiting for the day you're going to realize what it all means.

Nope. You don't. Because a) you either think he's messing with you, ratchet did say he's kind of a flirt to everyone b) pharma being pharma c) asking you to cover another late night shift, which coincidentally, gets you stuck with him

Like prowl, since he's your superior, there's going to be a lot of schedule tampering and unlike Prowl he gets jealous, very easily.

(Prowl does get jealous. Nobody really likes him and he thinks you're obv going to like someone that's wayyy more genial and warmer than what he is. But he keeps it to himself because at least you're interacting with him)

Pharma gets,,, obvious about his jealousy in a very passive aggressive way which sometimes gives way to physical confrontations (pulling you away by your waist, getting in between you and the meh you're talking with, shooting daggers at the person who so much as to praise you)

Messy, messy doctor.

Oughhh so much things to add. Okay but more wholesomely, theyre both the type to put a blanket over you wen you're asleep at your desk, or giving you a drink when you're tired. Basically the tiny acts of kindness that's makes me go oughhh 🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭

#FEEL FREE TO ADD MORE TO THISS #transformers #maccadam #transformers x reader #transformers idw #ikkoasks #idw prowl #prowl x reader #pharma #idw pharma #pharma x reader #moots

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browniefox · 22 days

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go on a rant about nanakis cosmo trial

So I think there's a lot of things to be frustrated with at this part of the story - considering making a whole ass video about my Rebirth thoughts tbh - but Nanaki's trial just sticks out to me as being a really big missed opportunity, especially in regards to building the relationships between the characters.

The first problem is the dungeon itself. In general, Rebirth really struggles with dungeons. It's nice that the Trial feels so geared towards Nanaki, but it's almost geared too much towards him in my opinion, in that Barret really just feels like he shouldn't be there at all. The cave also has all these things going on, and I think it would have flowed better as a trip through dangerous caves to get to Seto - and that in and of itself being a trial - rather than having all these things that Nanaki is supposed to do, which makes it feel like Bugenhagen set them up, but why are they set up like that?

But for me, that's all whatever. Like, I don't like. But again, my biggest problem is the missed character interaction.

Having Nanaki go with Barret, as far as character match-ups go, is pretty good. Nanaki is almost solely a close-range righter, and and Barret is almost solely a far-range fighter. A perfect duo. Here's the problem though: we already had the Barret and Nanaki bonding road trip!

Now, did they bond in the Mythril Caves? No, not really. Another missed opportunity, but you could say that it's because Nanaki is still new to the group and closed off and stuff. Lame excuse, but thoroughly whatever. Which sucks, because in the side quests the game has show not to shrink away from letting characters talk to each other and strike up some good conversations and get to know each other.

So who could have been matched up with Nanaki that would have been better? Honestly, basically anyone. Maybe Yuffie tags along because Bugenhagen thinks she could appreciate the experience - we know from the campfire before that she doesn't really believe in Planetology, so maybe it could be an eye-opening experience for her, and then the teens of the group get to bond. Yuffie is also has some good close and far range attacks.

Tifa just went through a really harrowing experience, maybe she needs some time away from most of the group but also wants to feel like she's helping someone. But, she's also completely close-range, so wouldn't make for the best party.

Cloud would be the boring and easy choice, and he's most close-ranged so bad party match up, but I bet they could still manage to make some good interactions. Again, maybe after Gongaga, cloud needs to be away from the group a bit, or prove that he can trust himself to keep someone else safe.

And then Aerith? I feel like it should have just been Aerith. She's more of a ranged fighter, and she's currently clearly going through stuff trying to figure out how she feels about the fact that she's a Cetra, what that means to those around her, what responsibilities she's supposed to take on. Protecting and helping Nanaki could be great for that! Not to mention, we've seen pieces of their relationship, but it could be nice to build upon that in a duo adventure.

In the end, we're with Barret. Okay, so that's what we have. What could we have done with this? Well, Nanaki sees his dad as a coward, a dad who left him in order to save people. Well, Barret is a dad who left his daugther to save people. In fact, in Marlene doesn't know about AVALANCHE - which she must not because she's just a little baby - then it could look like Barret left because of everything that was happening in Midgar. You could, then, build an interesting and compelling dynamic between Nanaki and Barret - Son of an Absent Father, and Absent Father if not completely by choice - throughout the trial.

But in stead, Barret is just kind of... chilling there. I dont' think he ever says anything interesting the whole time.

That's all to say, big let down booo

Edit: also furthermore you could have built up a really interesting thing by having Barret and Nanaki discuss parents a bit in their first outing so that nanaki doesn’t hate his father out of nowhere, but they don’t do that, which sucks. Also also, during the trial, nanaki is like ‘ugh barret?’ But they don’t have that kind of hate up to that point??? It feels like it comes out of nowhere???

#ffvii #ff7 #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #ffvii rebirth #barret wallace #nanaki #red xiii

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a-queer-seminarian · 18 days

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cw religious transphobia, Catholic trauma, plus a weird dream involving violence and bombs lol

had another of my dreams about my childhood church last night — probably prompted by the latest shitty Vatican publication condemning "gender theory" :/

...the document doesn't have much new in it, just more of the Roman Catholic Church's usual bullshit with slightly different language. but God i'd take fundamentalism's look-even-slightly-closer-and-it-falls-apart cognitive dissonance any day to the very carefully ordered logic of Catholic bigotry. i always feel physically ill reading through these Vatican documents because the language is so "loving" and "reasonable" — at least for me as someone who was raised into the Catholic logic system; some deep core of me resonates to this specific pitch and aches.

It's like they know exactly what language to use to shatter me — this time it's language about the Infinite Dignity of human beings, which is something i deeply believe in! It's heart-language for me. Tell me queer folk are "intrinsically disordered" or "demonic" and i can mostly scoff it off as outdated unscientific bullshit. But tell me queerness is on par with fucking WAR and POVERTY and XENOPHOBIA in attacking human dignity and that hurts.

...but they also, of course :/, bring in abortion — but also, in a surprising twist, surrogacy??? — as attacking human dignity, and that thankfully snaps me out of my spiral a little bit. Like seriously?? you think all forms of surrogacy violate the *checks notes* child's "right to have a fully human (and not artificially induced) origin..." and the recognition of "every dimension of the dignity of the conjugal union and of human procreation."

It reminds me that the Catholic condemnation of queer sex is like, one level in a house of cards where you take out one piece and it all collapses: the logic they follow to condemn queer sex and extramarital sex requires that they also condemn contraceptives, and priests getting married, and yes, surrogacy and IVF too. To become lax about any one would send the whole logic tower tumbling --

Okay now i'm just ranting incoherently lol. the dream:

my dream was actually kind of interesting? it's the first one where instead of me being scared about my own safety when suddenly finding myself back in my childhood church, i was scared for everyone else —

i was running home trying to escape some kind of violent attack unfolding in a city center (idk the details don't worry about it lol), and realized i had to cut through saint raphael for the fastest route home. so i entered, only to realize the sanctuary was packed full with people in the middle of Mass. (it's the old sanctuary, the one i grew up with, rather than the new bigger one built back in like 2014)

so i'm trying to slink behind the pews so they won't notice me -- and then i suddenly realize someone is up in the choir loft with a bomb. everyone is clueless except for me. i don't want to alert the person with the bomb that i've seen them in case it prompts them to attack, so i start speaking urgently to people in the pews nearest me. some listen, some tell me to shut up, Mass is more important than whatever danger i think is there. very few get up to hurry out the nearest exit. but i keep trying, going pew to pew to warn people, getting closer to the front.

and there is father tim, about to begin eucharistic liturgy at the altar. i'm about to race up to him, to warn him, to beg him to tell everyone to flee, when the person in the choir loft finally speaks. i don't remember what he says, but he hurls the bomb. finally everyone is running for the exits, but it's too late to get everyone out. they'd ignored the violence in their midst far too long.

i don't remember what happens after that except that i get out, get across the street, and turn back to look upon the crumbled mess of my childhood church, one side entirely exploded outward, people soot-streaked and bleeding hobbling from a smoking doorway, shouting.

idk, it just feels symbolic somehow. Catholics who are either very happy with the queerphobic poison the Roman Catholic Church espouses, or who at least shrug and ignore it so as not to rock the boat and cause discomfort / risk their own standing in the church, seem to think they won't be harmed by that poison too. Very "i didn't think the tigers would eat my face" meme-esque. They are happy to let it seep into every crack and crevice in their churches, to swallow it with their Communion wine, to spread it among their children.

But it is poisoning them, all the same. We are just the canaries in the coal mine, dropping first. The queerphobia, the misogyny, the scandals buried under the rug — these warp their ability to experience the Divine, to recognize God's activity in their midst.

The bomb is already activated. Some of them applaud it, almost worship it. Others ignore its quiet, patient tick. And they push out all the queers, all the survivors of church abuse, all the people with pregnancies that will literally kill them, who are desperately trying to help them shut off the damn bomb before it's too late.

#log #pentecost incident

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be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie · 7 months

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I just need to rant okay. As a kid who has grown up hearing pretty much everyone complain about the government this and our horrible society that I’m honestly just… done all around. No Grandma Agnus, I don’t care about how you think lgbtq+ people are all going to a hell I don’t even believe in but you know what, cousin Cadence? I also don’t care about how all homophobic people are the true evil ones. No, I don’t care that trans people exist but guess what? I also don’t care that there are people who think differently because people are entitled to their own fucking opinions so long as they aren’t actively harming others (if you don’t like them don’t interact with them more than you have to on both sides, it’s not a hard concept).

Yes I understand that racism has played a huge role in our country but I’m pretty sure that’s not why they got your order wrong at Wendy’s Uncle Jason. Yes I understand that women have had it tough in the past but guess what, last I checked we’re doing a hell of a lot better and no men are not stupid or evil for fuck’s sake and yes they do have problems of their own even though they’re not women

No, I don’t think that all rich people are evil or owe us something (and that’s coming from someone who used to live in a tiny little trailer and only got a small packet of gum for Christmas once) but I also don’t think that workers are over-exaggerating some of their horrible conditions such as payment. No, I don’t care what pronouns you use Finley but guess what when you come at me for “assuming your gender” or whatever twice in the same day despite the fact that it changes literally every hour then that’s where we start to have problems. No, I don’t care that you believe in god but fun fact I am a heavy believer in the separation of church and state and will you look at that, it seems like church and state are getting a bit too chummy up in this house when you claim that all women who get abortions are murderers who are gonna go to hell and abortion should be criminalized for the sake of their souls Auntie Susana.

On top of that I become old enough to vote and stuff soon but honestly I don’t really want to. All I’ve seen my whole life are a bunch of adults going at each other’s throats like rabies-infested dogs and for what? So that they can try to get an extra bit of rope in ya’ll’s tug-of-war? And then older people come at people my age who don’t want to be involved in the shitshow? It almost makes me want to laugh my ass off because that’s like polluting a well and then pleading for the townsfolk to drink that nasty water.

Sorry for my harsh words. I just had a lot of frustrations and really needed to say something anywhere. Know that none of this was directed at you or anyone with strong opinions in a malicious way, I’m honestly just so tired. It feels like everyone everywhere is fighting and for what? No one listens to anyone anymore. I do fully intend to vote when I’m old enough, I’m just done with everyone shouting at me from all sides.

I am very confused as to why this rant was brought to me, because I literally am one of the people you're complaining about.

When I saw this ask, I had to stop looking at this website for like three days. It's a very privileged take, honestly. I don't blame people for getting tired of hearing about politics and world issues all the time, it is exhausting. But as someone who's frequently called exhausting, well, I'm fucking sorry if hearing about the people suffering around you is bothering you. That is a privilege. You can feel that way, but recognize you feeling that way is a luxury.

Your (I'm assuming) metaphorical Grandma hating gay people isn't the same as your metaphorical cousin calling homophobes evil. As I said to my mom yesterday in a very similar conversation, your grandma has the luxury of leaving that conversation any time. So do you. I, as well as other gay people, do not have that luxury. Getting annoyed or tired about any debate on basic human rights I understand, but equally at both sides is bizarre to me. It's like getting mad at a random person in 1912 and the Titanic passengers equally for continuing to talk about the Titanic. One of these groups hAS TO BE TALKING ABOUT THE TITANIC RIGHT NOW. You're not on the Titanic, so you can shut your newspaper and get annoyed it's all you hear about. THE TITANIC PASSENGERS CANT! One side is there because it's literally them being talked about. The other is there because they have too much free time and are demons.

I understand why you feel like people are fighting all the time. They are. But politics are not very black and white. In America it's really just the right and the farther right. But individuals are fighting because things need to be fought for, simply enough. Silence is complicity, and your first two paragraphs are just that.

@antigirlb0ss look at this shit

#sorry buddy i don't know why you brought this drivel to me #but i am not the one #i eSPECIALLY am not the one for not wanting to vote convos #although i understand feeling ike ur vote is useless #it's not smaller state elections are very important #but gtfo about racism and sexism dude #they still play major major roles in our society and it's absolutely valid for someone to complain about them?#also rich people are not evil but billionares are #theres a distinct difference #and also “workers are exaggerating some of their horrible conditions” hOW DOES THE BOOT TASTE MY GUY DOES IT TASTE GOOD? jesus christ #capital owners don't need you LARPing as a shoeshiner for them they are actually fine just on their own #both sides-ing every issue you brought up here literally makes you the problem #trump: there are good people on both sides #<- that's you #melissa's asks #melissa bullshit #i get more and more radicalized (become more reasonable) every day

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light-lanterne · 1 year

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Heya, Angel. How ya doing today? :D

I was thinking about your Life is Strange ficlet idea and your planned endings and it got me curious. Which ending would you consider the more "canon" ending? (Aka which ending is Will more likely to choose out of the two choice, Mike or Hawkins?)

(Also I've very excited about this ficlet. A combo of two of my fav fandoms? Don't mind if I yes :3)

hello !! pardon the late reply, i've been in a funky mood :( hope you're doing well ~ !!

hmm, i suppose it depends on how much will is willing to listen to mike, to be honest. we know mike is incredibly self-sacrificial and has a bit of a hero complex, so if it were up to him, he'd immediately give his life up in order to save everyone. considering his negative perception of himself (and of his role in the lives of his family and friends), he'd probably argue with will about how his life isn't worth much and how joyce, jonathan and the party are much more important parts of will's life than himself.

now, will has a hard time saying "no" to mike, to begin with, and he trusts mike's judgement and leadership above all, so on one side he'd probably be quite inclined to listen to mike's request and save everyone. he loves his family and party too much to let them just die, after all.

on the other hand, will is a little bit stubborn, usually in regards to his own self-esteem issues but particularly when it comes to mike making foolish decisions. letting mike live out his hero fantasy, even if rational, definitely qualifies as foolish as well. i can also imagine he wouldn't want to let vecna win when it comes to ending mike, especially not after everything vecna's put him through and after spending so many days saving mike over and over again.

more than that, however, i'm not sure will can properly function without mike. we saw during s4 that he was living decently well while in lenora, but he had his family by his side and he was operating under the assumption that mike was okay. ignoring his existence on purpose, but alive and well in hawkins. if put in the same situation, but this time with the knowledge that mike's gone for real,,, i'm not sure he'd be able to handle the guilt and sadness and he'd know this.

so,,, all this is to say that i really don't know >.< i'm slightly partial to the idea that he'd end up listening to mike (if only because our introduction to byler was that they trust each other completely), but it's honestly a toss of a coin and both options have equal chances of breaking his mind completely x.x

anyway, excuse the rant and unintentional character analysis :S thanks for the question !! i hope you're having a great day or night !!

story idea 📺

#💕#📺#💡#🧸#will byers #mike wheeler #will byers analysis #mike wheeler analysis

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sheisbeautyweareworldass · 1 year

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the inheritance games trilogy final thoughts:

after pulling two all-nighters - for each of the first two books - and learning to manage my time and adding some sleeping hours in-between my tfg reading, i finished my second murder/mystery trilogy that i had no idea involved murder or mystery of the year… i should start reading synopsis 🫡

i’m gonna start off with my biggest issue and easiest thing to rant about lmao, keep an eye out for spoilers

so, here’s my thing with love triangles: if you aren’t going to do you best with it, than maybe it’s better to scrap that idea off instead of half-assing it. i think it was okay in the first book - i even said here how i found myself looking forward those scenes and eating it up - but i feel like everything went down in the second book. to start, i genuinely believe the “who’s avery gonna end with” was answered halfway through that book and everyone kinda knew that, what made the persistence of that topic in the third book annoying and useless.

also, it severely harmed grayson’s arc imo. with avery and james dating, gray was out of the picture except when it came to jameson feeling jealous and making avery angst - in order words: he existed only to help develop their relationship. but saying that was his only purpose in the last book is wrong, because he was keeping his distance from avery, the logical choice was to glue him to eve’s side and bring up his trauma and feelings for emily at every scene he appeared. i also think the whole gray/avery thing got no closure…? there’s not really a moment where they both talk about their feelings for each other to each other, just a loooot of repressing until the very last page of the book.

i think what i want to say is that choosing jameson so soon felt quite… lazy? like. he was the “obvious” choice from the beginning so i thought we would have to work a little bit more to get there, but nah, two kisses and we were already there. pair this with what i said above about the lack of true romantic confrontation between avery and grayson and you can see why i think the author choose the quickest way to the easiest road (which is not to say she didn’t make the right choice, i just don’t like the way it was given to me)

sometimes it felt like the author was really pushing the love triangle agenda when it didn’t even made sense/matched the tone of the story?? i would probably have eaten it up in 2013 but i don’t think the world needs another two-brothers-falling-in-love-for-the-same-girl-for-second-time-in-a-way-that-would-make-you-think-they-share-the-same-type-but-they-really-don’t-since-the-first-girl-was-a-cunt-and-the-second-one-is-an-angel story when that spot is forever taken by tvd.

now, about the characters:

i really don’t have much to say 😭 i wasn’t head over heels for anyone and i also wasn’t in the murder mode for anyone (well, maybe for vincent blake’s misogynistic ass and i wouldn’t say no to punching skye in the face). avery is a good main character, the hawthorne brothers are all nice - xander is probably my favorite, if i’d to pick one. libby 100% deserves more pages, as did max. alisa is a good character to have in a book because she’s easy to bring out doubts at the readers (is she trustworthy, is she a threat, is she selfish, is she telling the truth). oren is the goat and i’m surprised avery didn’t end the book by mentioning how he’s lowkey a father figure to her. i think thea and rebecca were written very bidimensional- thea’s a girl boss, rebecca doesn’t think she’s enough, they’re in love, the end.

about the riddles:

definitely not obvious. comparing to the mysteries in tgggtm, for example, i think they were way harder to decipher. i think the only ones i beforehand were toby being adopted, toby not being avery’s biological dad and liam not being just some random dude and bring somehow related to toby’s abduction 😭 tobias hawthorne’s final explanation that he chose avery to inherit everything because he could deal with her dying as a consequence of his actions but couldn’t risk any of the boys suffering with it made sense and i think it was the most reasonable motive.

#aly’s unnecessary book commentaries #this is longer than i thought it would be and no one is gonna read it sksjskajdje #off to sleep now bye bye

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headstrongblake · 1 year

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“we could get married.” -loutavia (okay I'm just gonna say....... do literally whatever you want with this 👀 ) / @myhiraeth

at first octavia tries to gauge where louis’ level of annoyance was at since he’d stormed her dorm room in order to guess what sibling or which parent had said something. because it’s not unusual for lou to arrive, but more often or not, when he’s serious it’s because of his family. but she’d already crossed off a slight annoyance, so probably not something charles had done. with the way he paced before launching himself onto the bed beside her, octavia was leaning more towards a deanna encounter.

though he speaks before she even asks what’s wrong, spouting off bits of the argument he’d clearly had with deanna about being ready for a “real job.” almost instantly octavia cringed a little, knowing the sore spot that his mom prodded at about the ever pending offer to work at his father’s office. while he rant and raves, octavia’s fingers began moving through strands of his hair, the easiest way she’s found at keeping him centred in the present moment with her. usually, it doesn’t help to offer advice, and with the Warren world, octavia had very little experience to offer so she listens until louis runs out of steam that his mother ignited. we could get married. octavia chokes on her laugh, shaking her head, “ as much as that’s on the list of things that would piss off deanna right about now, we could do something with less legality issues. ”

octavia smirked, rolling onto her side to get a better look at louis. “ let’s go to costa rica, or new zealand, shit i don’t know, ” it’s not like octavia’s ever seen much outside of the state of virginia, save leaving ark for university. “ let’s spend their money on us having the time of our lives, disconnect from them for awhile, send your mom a bunch of photos of us from my phone, all around win. ‘sides, we can always revisit the marriage option later. ” octavia winked, her smirk growing on her lips.

#v. clever as the devil and twice as pretty. modern #you said do what i want...so i did what i want #myhiraeth #( louis )

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sarinotsari · 2 years

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POTD Review

Okay so I have several thoughts about POTD and I want to discuss everything I can remember. I’m afraid I’ve forgotten a lot of the episode already due to goldfish brain though. Also my thoughts will be out of order because I also can’t remember the order of events.

So, as someone who has never seen Classic Who, I would say Sarah Jane, Jo, Susan, and Ace are the classic companions I know the most about. So seeing Ace throughout the episode was really fun and had me wanting to see more of her. Jo’s cameo at the end was really exciting too. As for Tegan, all I knew about her was that she was Australian, a former air hostess, and is canonically married to Nyssa. This was basically a Tegan introduction for me, and all I have to say is BBC PLEASE give Ace and Tegan a spin off, they were both amazing and I loved their scenes together so much. It was a bit disappointing never hearing Nyssa being mentioned (unless I missed it, in which case... sorry Nyssa). The companion support group at the end annoyed me a little because it was just “here are 13′s companions and the classic companions” and completely ignoring 9-12′s companions. It does make sense, though, because most of them can be explained away such as Rose being in the parallel world, Donna not being able to remember her time, Clara returning to her death point or still travelling with Ashildr, and Bill and Nardole being dead. As for Martha, Amy, and Rory, Freema and Karen film a lot more in America now and probably couldn’t take time to travel, and I assume they wouldn’t have wanted Arthur back without Karen.

I had mixed feelings about the edge of existence thing because I love the idea of former Doctors helping the current one through the regeneration process, but there was a line that said something like “once you go past here, there is no turning back” and it didn’t make sense to me because, if a Doctor can’t come back, then how are all of you here to share that message? And how is David Tennant back as the Doctor? Overall though, I loved that part of the story and it was nice to see so many versions of the Doctor returning.

Before I start this paragraph, I want to preface saying I LOVE SACHA DHAWAN! I love the Dhawan Master! HOWEVER, I felt like there was too much of the Master in an episode titled Power of the Doctor. Yes, it made my heart happy to see Sacha in the episode. Yes, I want him to play the Master for 5-20 more years because I love his acting so much. But still, the story just felt too Master-heavy for me. It also felt like the Daleks were basically sidekicks in this episode, maybe they should’ve taken some of the Masters scenes and given them to the Daleks to make them more scary. Still, it did make me happy because Sacha is an amazing actor and I loved seeing him featured. (Side note: The Rasputin dancing scene was 10/10. I love that insane man.)

The lack of the Fugitive Doctor is probably what bothered me the most about this episode. From what I can remember, she only got one scene. One, or even two, scene(s) is not nearly enough for a.) the talent of Jo Martin, who should have her own spin off or b.) the actual character of the Fugitive Doctor, who is a very important aspect of the Doctor’s history. WHY did they not have David Bradley and Jo Martin in a scene together?! That would’ve been such a great scene to watch! Anyway, I have to end my Fugitive Doctor rant because I could literally spend hours talking about her if I don’t stop myself.

Also, a few thoughts about the Doctor’s species: I honestly thought the people on the ship at the beginning of the episode were of that species because of the “that energy... they’re regenerating” line, which made me think they knew about regeneration because they could regenerate. Plus, they were carrying the Qurunx, which had taken the form of a child who I presumed to be the Timeless Child. And, really, it’s not entirely impossible that the Qurunx is the Doctor’s species. If the Timeless Child had taken the form of a child in order to be rescued by Tecteun, it could be that former incarnations of the Doctor were then forced to remain in a humanoid figure. I also like the theory that Bel (who should have been in the episode and was very missed by me, in part due to me being slightly very in love with her) and Vinder are the Doctor’s parents, which I wish would have been confirmed at some point in the episode.

I’ve loved the entirety of Jodie’s era, but even I have to admit it did kind of feel like the show was going downhill despite my love for it remaining strong. Which, honestly, it’s not that surprising that I (and many others) felt that way. Even if we ignore the Classic years, the show is still nearing 20 years on air with 13 series and countless specials and it’s to be expected that a show would hit a lull after so long on air. But this episode, to me, felt like the early years of the revival when everything was fresh and exciting.

Overall, this was a great episode (honestly maybe one of my favorites of the entire show) and the minor issues I had with it don’t make it any less exciting. I’m going to miss Jodie and Mandip so much, but I look forward to David and Catherine’s return as well as Ncuti and Yasmin’s entries. I’d love to see Sacha and Jo return to their roles in RTD2, but I’m not very hopeful of either of them returning, so I’ll say now that I thought they both added such amazing performances to this era and their presence will be greatly missed.

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messers-moony · 3 years

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Secrets | R.L

Paring: Remus Lupin X Wife!Reader

Summary: Y/n withholds her past from the Order of the Phoenix but it all comes loose after one eavesdropped conversation with Sirius.

Standing in the kitchen of Grimmauld Twelve after cleaning up dinner was always a fun experience. The Aurors finally allowed themselves to relax, even if it was just for a moment. Everyone could feel the amount of ease in the room, including the children. Harry Potter always remained grateful for these moments to relax. But he was never far from the woman who raised him, Y/n Lupin.

Remus was having an animated conversation with Sirius, Nymphadora, and Mad-Eye. Meanwhile, Molly, Arthur, Y/n, and the kids all spoke together, just joking around. Y/n couldn’t believe that Harry was fifteen. It felt like yesterday when he had gotten spit up all over her shirt while she tried to feed him. It was astonishing to watch Harry grow into the man Lily and James always wanted.

“ Professor Lupin! “ The Weasley twins called in symphony making both Lupins turn their way, “ The female Professor Lupin. “ Fred specified, and Remus chuckled.

The twins pulled her away into a secluded corner, “ Did you get them? “ George queried, and Y/n scoffed, “ Of course, I did. What do you take me for? A liar? “

“ Absolutely not! “ Fred replied, “ They’re all in your room. Make good work of those fireworks. “ Y/n whispered, and both boys were jumping with joy.

They bowed, “ Only for you, Professor. “

Both boys ran off to presumably go and check their new items. Y/n chuckled at their antics when arms wrapped around her waist. A chin was rested on her right shoulder, and the scratch of scruff tickled her jaw. Caramel-brown hair fading and flecked with grey obscured part of her vision. Two hands were rested on her waist—the left hand adoring a very familiar ring.

“ What have you given those mischievous boys? “ Remus asked, “ Nothing. I’m not quite sure what you’re on about? “ Y/n answered, turning to face her husband.

His eyebrow quirked, “ Okay, I made a trip to a particular store. I got them some fireworks. “ Y/n informed, “ Fireworks? “ Remus questioned.

“ They’re magical fireworks. “ Y/n stated, “ The boys like to experiment, so I let them have their fun. “

“ And that’s why you refuse to give them detention. “ Remus rolled his eyes, “ I do give them detention! “ Y/n exclaimed, pouting slightly.

“ I lecture them about all the things they did wrong. “ Y/n added before Remus could speak, “ And then I tell them how to do it better. “ She mumbled.

Her husband laughed, “ Oh, there's the marauder in you, my dear. “

There was a prominent silence between them before Remus spoke up again, “ Have you told Harry about your former last name? “

“ No, I haven’t. “ Y/n swallowed, “ He doesn’t need to know. “

“ I think he’d like to know. “ Remus replied as he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, “ I think he’d like to hear all the stories about your twin brother. “

She shook her head, “ Sirius can tell him. “

“ Sirius can’t tell him everything, love. “ Remus informed sweetly, “ Only you knew James Potter since he was born. “

“ I know, I just- it’s hard. “ Y/n bit her lower lip, “ I know, darling. “ Remus responded as he pulled her lower lip from her teeth with his thumb, gently.

They stared at each other for a moment before someone interrupted, “ Y/n, I think you should talk to Sirius. “ Molly informed, and she furrowed her eyebrows, “ He showed Harry the Black Family tree. “

Molly left, and Y/n kissed her husband on the cheek, “ Talk about this later. “ Y/n whispered, leaving him.

She walked around the house. Sirius was standing in the doorway, about to close the black wooden door. Y/n only stood a couple of feet away, but he was hesitant. He didn’t want to shut the door just yet. So much history laid on the wallpaper of the room. So many awful memories. Y/n laid a hand on his shoulder gently.

“ Come on. “ Y/n beckoned as she pulled him into the room, and he shut the door behind them, “ Colloportus. “ She muttered, locking the door.

Sirius stood in front of Regulus’s name, “ Go on, speak. “ Y/n said, and Sirius sighed.

“ It was hard. Losing him, I mean. Even though we didn’t have the greatest relationship, it still felt like I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected him. He was my little brother, for Merlin’s sake. “ Sirius ranted, “ Maybe if I stayed. Maybe if I took him with me that night, this would’ve never happened.

“ Losing a brother is hard. “ Y/n began, “ It’s a pain I wouldn’t wish upon anyone, but people die. People come and go. Truth be told, there isn’t much you can do about it. “

“ My brother wouldn’t have wanted me to live my life suffering. That’s why I married Remus even if he wasn’t by my side. Even if he wasn’t the one walking me down the aisle like he promised. “ Y/n continued, and tears streamed down Sirius’ face, “ Harry still doesn’t know. “

Sirius turned faster than a threatened spider, “ What? Haven’t you told him? “

“ No. He doesn’t know. I’m Y/n Lupin to him and everyone else aside from the adults. “ She shook her head, “ To be fair, it feels nice. “

“ Call me daft, but it feels nice not to be Pity Potter anymore. It feels nice to be Professor Lupin. “ Y/n shrugged, “ You raised him, and you lied to him. “ Sirius retorted.

“ I’m not lying to him; I’m just not telling him the entire truth. “ Y/n corrected, and Sirius turned back to the family tree, “ You were never Pity Potter. “ Sirius muttered.

Y/n chuckled, “ Everyone pitied me after they died. Poor Y/n Potter. She lost her parents at seventeen, lost her brother at twenty-one, became an unexpected parent at twenty-one with her brother's son. People didn’t have to say ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ for me to see the pity in their eyes. “

“ When Regulus died, nobody even said I’m sorry. “ Sirius whispered, “ Nobody knew Regulus like you did. “ Y/n replied.

“ Regulus wasn’t meant to die. He shouldn’t have died. But he did, Sirius. “ Y/n stated, and Sirius turned to her with tear-filled eyes, “ And if your brother was anything like mine, he wouldn’t want you to sulk your entire life. He wouldn’t want you to ask yourself ‘what if’; he’d want you to live your life. “

She took steps in front of the crying man, her hands placed on his shoulders, “ Regulus Black and James Potter didn’t die because they wanted us to suffer. They died because they wanted us to live. “

“ So please. Live for them. Don’t let their death be in vain. “ Y/n said, taking Sirius in for a hug which he returned gratefully, “ Harry loves you. He likes having his godfather in his life. Live for Harry. “

Sirius nodded, and they pulled apart, “ Remus got really lucky. “

Y/n laughed, “ James used to say the same thing. “

When they left the room, it felt like time stopped. Everyone stared at them. Sirius and Y/n were given glares aside from the adults. The children looked betrayed. Harry looked almost in tears. The Weasley twins looked guilty. It seemed to freeze, and Remus looked stressed. Molly and Arthur looked disappointed in their children. Mad-Eye looked unimpressed. Nymphadora looked intrigued. Remus and Y/n exchanged looks, his saying everything– he found out.

Y/n coughed, “ Why- Why is everyone staring? “

“ You lied! “ Harry’s voice sounded heartbroken, betrayed, “ I never lied to you, Harry. I just- you never asked, and there was never a suitable time. “ Y/n tried to explain.

The extendable ear in Fred’s hand told her everything, and she took a breath, “ Harry, can we talk about this in private, please? “

Remus walked forward and took Harry from the shoulders, guiding him to their shared bedroom; once Harry was out of earshot, the Weasley twins stared at their Professor, “ I’m- I’m so sorry, Professor. We didn't- “

“ I’m not mad at you. “ Y/n interrupt, “ I’m not mad at any of you. To clear the rumors, yes, James Potter was my twin brother- “

Before Y/n could continue, Sirius interjected, “ And Y/n Lupin is one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. “

“ She has suffered a more remarkable feat than any other witch I know. Y/n was the one who found Marlene McKinnon’s family dead. She watched her best friend bleed out right in front of her eyes. “ Sirius continued, and Y/n swallowed, looking at the ground, “ She watched Frank, and Alice Longbottom get tortured to insanity. “

“ And finally Y/n suffered losing her other half, James Potter and her sister in law, Lily Evans or Lily Potter. “ Sirius put two hands on her shoulders as he stood behind her, “ So before you glare at her, understand what she’s been through. Understand that she’s been tortured, hurt, and killed in more ways than one. “

Sirius still wasn’t finished, “ Her husband is a werewolf. Her husband has hurt her before, and she bears the scars. Her brother was killed. Her brother by choice- “ Sirius chuckled before he continued, “ Was sent to Azkaban for twelve years, and someone she trusted betrayed us all. “

“ Y/n Euphemia Potter-Lupin has endured more pain than everyone in this room combined. But Y/n Euphemia Potter-Lupin is always the one holding us together, the glue to this horrid new world we live in. So please, before you glare. “ Sirius repeated, “ Understand that she’s been tortured, hurt, and killed in more ways than one. “

Hesitantly, Y/n raised her head to see everyone almost in tears. The children weren’t meant to know; they weren’t meant to hear all the suffering she’s endured. It wasn’t their time yet. But as she looked up, she saw Harry and Remus. They hadn’t entirely made it to the bedroom before Sirius began talking. Tears trailed down her husband's cheek, remembering that faithful night he had broken his vows and attacked her. She didn’t blame him.

Hermione was fully sobbing. The Weasley boys had light tears falling down their cheeks. Molly cried in Arthur’s arms while he tried withholding his tears. Nymphadora and Mad-Eye looked astonished. Ron was brought into a hug by Hermione but remained shocked. Y/n didn’t quite know what to do from here. They had just heard her entire life story.

“ I’m sorry you all had to hear that. “ Y/n chuckled, “ I didn’t know Sirius was going to give you a biography on how the first wizarding war went for me. “

She swallowed, “ I’m sorry for keeping this secret from you guys. And Harry, because I know you’re only a floor above me right now in the comfort of Remus’ arms. You need to know that I love you from the bottom of my heart. I just- I just didn’t want you to find out and get too excited. “

“ But I’m your biological Aunt. I fought Dumbledore tooth and nail to take care of you. I remember sobbing and wailing in Remus’ arms because you were right there, right in front of my face, yet I couldn’t have you. “ Y/n explained, “ Vernon and Petunia are awful people. You deserved love, and you wouldn’t have gotten it there. You would’ve been an outsider your entire life. “

Y/n was sobbing as Sirius rubbed her back, her words choked up, “ B- But, I love you, Harry James Potter. “

Harry left Remus’s arms and ran down the flight of stairs. His arms took around his Aunt. The fifteen-year-old held onto his aunt closer than he could ever imagine. Remus walked down the steps slowly to take his place beside Sirius. Harry pulled away slightly, and Y/n wiped her face. Harry’s eyes had that glint of mischief James always had, and it made her want to sob all over again, but Harry spoke before she could.

“ What was your marauder name? “

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just-jordie-things · 3 years

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Bite Me - Mike Wheeler

word count: 4052 warnings: swearing, unedited and poorly written summary: Mike has harbored a crush on (y/n) since the day they met. And all it takes is a run-in with Billy Hargrove for him to lose his shit and let his feelings be known. (a/n): I just randomly felt the need to write for one of my best boys

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(y/n) (y/l/n) was a sweet girl. If you asked anyone they’d tell you how kind she is, to everyone she meets. From giving out homework answers when someone forgot, to sharing her lunch, she’d lend a hand no matter who you were. She was a good person, and that’s why Mike was so in love with her.

He had been ever since she’d joined the Party, back in the fourth grade. She’d been bringing in an extra juice box and snack for two weeks, just for Will, and the four boys agreed unanimously to offer her a spot in their group. Mike can still remember the look on her face, the wide grin that showed off her recently lost tooth, and the way she’d giggled and agreed instantly.

They taught her D&D, she was invited into Will’s fort, and taken in by Joyce as one of her own. She was truly one of them.

She didn’t look at him like everyone else did, it’s one of the first things he’d noticed about her, and he could see it every time their eyes met. That annoyed expression that he was used to receiving -from peers, from his parents, even Nancy, even their friends- he’d grown so accustomed to it, until he’d met her.

“Fuck you! Fuck you!” Mike was shouting, about to lunge towards Steve, before (y/n) and Dustin grabbed his arms to yank him back. “We can’t just stay here and-”

“That’s exactly what we’re doing!” Steve shouted back, shoving a scolding finger in the younger boy’s face. “We’re staying here, so I can keep you dipshits safe!”

Steve rolled his eyes before spinning around to leave. Nothing stressed him out like these kids.

“Come on, we’ll figure something else out” (y/n) said quietly, and tugged on Mike’s arm a little more.

His glare softened when he turned to her.

She nods her head off to the side, prompting him to walk off with her. He groaned, but he followed when she pulled him towards the living room. Her hand didn’t let go of his wrist until they were away from everyone else.

“You know nothing you could say right now is gonna make me less pissed off-”

“I know,” (y/n) giggles before he can start ranting again. “But maybe you can just take a breath and pretend to calm down?” She hums, and she laughs again.

Mike groans loudly, loud enough that everyone in the house could hear him, before he threw himself down onto the sofa.

(y/n) just shook her head, and sat next to him.

“Steve’s just trying to keep us safe, Mike,” She says, voice just as soft, but a bit more serious now. “He’s not doing this to make you mad, you get that, right?”

He nods, but hangs his head in his hands.

“Are you… um… upset because El’s out there?” She asked unsurely.

She had a pretty good feeling that Mike had a crush on Eleven. He was distraught when she left, and since she’d come back (a few hours ago) he’s been extremely on edge. Hence the pouting right now.

“I guess,” He shrugged. “I just- I want to just-”

“I know,” (y/n) murmurs again. “I get it”

She admired Mike’s need to help, to get involved. He was brave, if not a little reckless as well. But there was something sweet about his extreme need to help. Even though she was still convinced he was only wired this way because of his crush on Eleven.

Mike looked over to her, finding that loving look on her face. His favorite expression -maybe even his favorite thing- and it somehow calmed him down a bit. She smiled when he hadn’t started grumbling again.

“You good now?” She asked.

“Yeah,” He sighed. “I’ll be fine”

She grinned, and poked his cheek affectionately before getting up from the couch.

“I’m gonna get a glass of water and make sure Steve’s calmed down too,” She told him. “Guess I’m the only sane one around here”

He laughed a bit as she left the room.

“Steve?” (y/n) called gently as she approached her older friend.

He turned to her, an unamused, and rather annoyed, look on his face.

“You alright?”

“I will be, once I’m in a retirement home and have restraining orders placed on all of you,” He answered, making the girl laugh. “Your boyfriend calm down yet?” He asked, and her laughter stopped almost instantly.

Steve was chuckling now at how red her cheeks were turning.

“He’s not-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, heard it before, pretended to believe it before, whatever,” He said, and (y/n) busied herself with getting a drink. “Now’s as good a time as any to just, you know, confess. You’re stuck here anyways”

“No I… I can’t um…” She shakes her head, staring down at the bottle of water she’d grabbed from the fridge. “I can’t do that” She finished weakly.

Steve had known (y/n) for a few years now. He’d met her the first night he’d hung out with Nancy in the Wheeler home, she’d been there with Mike coming up with a new character for D&D. His first impression, as it was for all of the kids, was that she was a geek. And she was, but she was a lot of other things too, and what stood out the most to him was her kindness. She didn’t exactly fit in with the Party like the boys seemed to. Not only because she was a girl, but because she was… friendly.

Mike wasn’t cruel to Steve by any means, but he was a snarky little shit that sometimes made Steve just want to-

“Why the hell do you like that little asshole so much anyways?”

(y/n) was still blushing as she shrugged her shoulders.

He’d picked up on her little crush one of the first times she’d met him. He called her out on it right away too, luckily only Dustin had heard, and he’d laughed it off, thinking it was a joke.

It wasn’t.

“He’s such a piece of shit,” Steve said through a laugh, earning a pointed glare from (y/n). “Obviously he doesn’t treat you the same way he treats, well, everyone else”

“No, he doesn’t,” (y/n) sighed lovingly.

Her eyes glanced out to the living room, where Mike and Lucas were heatedly, and quietly, arguing. She rolled her eyes at the sight, not that it surprised her.

“He’s very, um-”

“Sweet on you?” Steve supplied, earning another look, which quickly turned into a nervous smile. “Yeah, that’s how I’d put it. I don’t know why you’re being such a baby about it. He obviously has a little crush on you too,” Steve said, wagging his finger around in her face. “Otherwise he wouldn’t be such a little gentleman towards you”

(y/n) didn’t say anything else, but she didn’t have to for Steve to know how she felt. He’d always known. She didn’t do a great job at hiding it, but her friends, and Mike for that matter, were oblivious.

They were interrupted by a bright light shining in through the windows, bright enough that she shielded her eyes as she wandered out to the large picture window.

“Who is that?” She asked, as everyone gathered around to figure out who could show up at the Byers’ house right now.

Their question was quickly answered.

“Sinclair!”

The angry, dangerous voice sent a shiver all the way down (y/n’s) spine, before an uneasy feeling settled in her stomach. Billy Hargrove was bad news, but him being here, right now, was even worse.

“Stay inside” Steve ordered, shoving the kids down underneath the window.

“I know you’re in there!” Billy screamed again from outside.

“Stay inside” Steve repeated, before walking out of the house.

“What the fuck does he think he’s gonna do?” Lucas asked, as everyone peeked their heads up just enough so they could see what was going on outside.

“He’s gonna fight him” Dustin said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.

“He’ll lose,” Max mumbled. All eyes turned to her, but her gaze was trained on her brother, afraid. “He’ll kill him”

“He’ll be okay,” (y/n) whispered to her new friend. “Steve’s a tough guy, and can throw a punch-”

“I’m not so sure he can take one, though” Max said.

(y/n) frowned, and set a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“We’ll be alright” She assured, even though she wasn’t certain what was going to happen.

Steve was now walking down to Billy, who was still yelling, but they couldn’t make out what exactly.

“What’s he saying?” Mike hissed, only to get shushed by Dustin, thus starting a ‘shh!’ war.

(y/n) only let it go on until Billy shoved Steve back by his shoulders.

“Boys!” She scolded, sitting up a little straighter as the fight outside escalated.

Just as she’d sat up, Mike grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed her back down.

“You want to get seen and murdered?” He whisper screamed. She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her sweet smile. His brow furrowed at her smile, but he wasn’t quick enough to say anything about it, as everyone’s attention was pulled back to the scene outside.

Billy had shoved Steve to the ground, and was racing up to the house now. He locked eyes with the Party, who all quickly leaned down as low to the floor as they could get.

“Lucas, run!” Max screamed, shoving the boy to haul ass before her brother could storm in and get his hands on him.

When the door swung open so hard it slammed against the wall, Mike grabbed (y/n) by both arms and just about ripped them out of their sockets as he pulled her upwards with him to get her as far fucking away from Billy as possible.

“We have to help Lucas!” She tried telling him while he dragged her off to the other side of the house. “Mike!” She shoved his hands off of her, and gave him a pleading look. “This isn’t like you, come on, he needs our-”

“Where are you, Sinclair!? Come on out!”

She ran away from Mike before he could convince her to hide.

Finding Lucas shoved up against the wall, something in her clicked. Billy’s significantly larger framed towered over the boy, who was clearly afraid, while Billy snarled nasty things right in his face.

“Why don’t you just fuck off?” She yelled at him, before thinking through the consequences of her actions.

Dustin and Mike stared at her in shock. She didn’t curse much, so to hear the foul word come out in her voice was… pretty out of character.

Just as Billy whirled around, likely about to send one knockout punch to her face, Lucas took his moment of distraction to knee him right between the legs. (y/n) squealed, both hands covering her mouth in surprise.

It was then that she took Mike’s advice to run back into the kitchen, and duck down behind the cabinets so she was out of sight.

“You’re fucking dead!” Billy howled in pain, and while every bone in (y/n’s) body told her to cover her ears, close her eyes, and stay hidden, she peeked around the corner anyways.

“No,” A different voice, a calm voice, a familiar voice, spoke up.

(y/n) had never been so relieved to see Steve in her whole life.

“You are” He finished, and took a strong swing of his fist against Billy’s jaw.

The crack that resonated made her wince, and she shut her eyes only for a moment as illy toppled backwards. He didn’t fall, and instead swung back at Steve, starting a very violent fistfight in the Byers’ kitchen.

“Come on, you gotta move” A pair of arms encircled her torso and helped her up from the ground.

Mike’s hands were much more gentle with her now than they had been a few minutes ago, and this time she let him bring her out to the living room, away from the fight.

Her eyes were wide with fear as she watched Billy throw Steve around the kitchen effortlessly. It was terrifying, she felt as though she was about to see him get killed.

When he landed a rather harsh punch, right under Steve’s chin, she cried out for him.

Steve crumbled to the ground, definitely knocked unconscious. He looked dead, though, and as the thought crossed her mind, she felt it again. The snap. Like an instinct buried deep was just let loose.

“You motherfucking piece of shit!” She screamed in a way that Mike, or any of them, had ever heard before, and was charging at Billy in an instant.

It was a hasty decision, grabbing the beautiful vase of flowers off of Joyce Byers’ table and throwing it full force at the back of Billy’s head.

While his head was soaked, and definitely bleeding from the shards of glass, he still managed to stay standing, and was fuming with anger as he glared down at (y/n).

“You made a big mistake little girl” He growled, and began to stalk towards her in a threatening manner.

“Bite me” She snarled back at him, followed by the rash decision to spit on him.

“(y/n) what the hell are you-!?”

Mike’s warning was cut off when Billy reached her, and she kicked him with all the force she could right in the gut. He grunted, but it hardly slowed him down. All she could see was red as she kicked him again, and began to throw her fists against his chest.

She didn’t have an ‘oh fuck’ moment until he grabbed her wrists in his large hands, and kept his hold so firm that tears welled in her eyes from the pressure.

“I’m gonna fucing kill you, little girl” He snarled, teeth bared right in her face.

Oh, fuck.

She tried to yank her body backwards, out of his grip, but he was faster, and stronger, and bigger than her. This resulted in her being thrown, no, slammed into the nearest wall. She cried at the crack of her skull against it, but had no time to react as Billy’s fist was all she could see, before it struck her and knocked her out instantaneously.

She fell like a limp, broken thing, and even when Mike grabbed her and shook her by her shoulders, she remained unconscious. It didn’t matter that Billy was still looking for blood, he pulled her into his lap and held her close against his chest. He was living a delusion thinking he could protect either of them if Billy came back for more, but he didn’t care. He was gonna keep her safe now.

Max had plunged the syringe into her brother’s neck, and was threatening him with Steve’s bat, but Mike hardly paid them any attention.

“(y/n), wake up, come on,” His voice was barely a mumble, and he hated to admit it but his throat was growing hot and tight with his tears choking him up. “C-come on open your eyes” He stuttered.

He pushed her hair out of her face so that it wouldn’t get sticky from the blood running out of her nose. He wiped away the red substance with his sleeve, not bothered by it at all.

“We’re going!” Lucas called, and rushed over to Mike to help him carry her. “Dustin Will and Max are getting Steve in the back. I’ll help you with her”

Mike didn’t have time to question anything Lucas had just said, and hastily went along with the plan. They looped (y/n’s) arms over both of their shoulders, and made their way out to Billy’s car. ___

Everything.

Hurt.

It was the first thing that (y/n) was aware of when she came to. Her legs, her arms, her torso, her head-

Oh shit my head hurts.

She groaned softly, reaching a shaky hand up to prod around her eye. She wasn’t exactly sure why, but it was definitely bruised. The rest of her body had to have been bruised too.

She suddenly shot upward as the car went over a bump, and that’s when she realized she was even in a car. Why was she in a car…?

Her head rolled against the seat, and she was met with someone’s shoulder against her cheek. She winced at the pressure, probably because her cheek was bruised and bleeding.

“(y/n)?” A gentle, but distant voice called. It sounded kind of hazy, like the person talking was miles away, and not right next to her. “Hey, can you hear me?”

Her eyes met Mike’s round and worried brown ones, and a lazy smile tugged on the edges of her lips. Even though his brow was furrowed, and there was a deep frown on his lips.

“What happened?” She asked, voice scratchy and quiet.

“What happened?” Mike repeated, much louder than he intended. She flinched, and while an apologetic look swept over his face, he didn’t apologize. “(y/n), you attacked Billy Hargrove” He told her in a grave tone.

“I did?” She asked proudly, her smile returning.

“No- don’t- jesus (y/n) what the hell are you on?” He asked. “He almost killed you, I mean, look at you!”

“Can you please stop yelling dipshit?” Max called from the front. “I’m trying to focus here!”

(y/n’s) eyes widened, and it dawned on her that Max was the one driving. But just as she opened her mouth to protest being in the car right now, Mike continued on with his angry little rant.

“I mean, seriously, what the hell, (y/n/n)? Did you think you were gonna win? Did you really think that you were gonna take him down?”

Her brow crinkled and her eyes welled with tears, both from all the pain and his cruel words.

“Do you even realize that he could’ve killed you? Huh? I mean, I really thought he did for a second. Do you even care?”

“What’s your problem right now?” The girl whimpered

“You are! You’re my problem,” He said, not thinking through the fact that she was crying right now. “That was really stupid (y/n), really reckless”

“Oh, because you care so much about playing it safe,” She scoffed.

It was getting awkward for the others in the car, minus Steve, who was still knocked out.

“All you wanted to do tonight was to get out there- well- well here we are, Mike!” She shouted. It hurt her head to yell, and Max was yelling again too, but she drowned it out. “Hope you’re freakin’ happy” She mumbled, holding her hands against the side of her head.

Mike sighed, and pulled her hands away from her face, staring at her seriously.

“(y/n)...” He said softly. “I’m sorry it’s just…” He let out one more heavy breath to prepare himself before diving in. “Look at yourself (y/n), you’re hurt and there’s- there’s nothing I can do about it”

(y/n’s) brow furrowed as she stared back at him.

“What do you mean?” She mumbled weakly.

“I mean I- you… I have to… ugh” He groaned, clearly frustrated by his inability to form a coherent thought.

“You have to… what?” She hummed, face leaning around his shoulder tiredly.

They were close enough that their whispers were only heard by them. And somehow, it felt like they were the only people in the car.

“Mike?” She whispered when he hadn’t said anything yet.

His eyes flickered over her battered face. The black eye, her split lip, her bruised and cut cheek, his heart broke looking at how much pain she must be in right now. He couldn’t believe he let this happen.

“...protect you” He answered lamely.

“Protect me?” She repeats, soft, and loving. “From what?”

“Apparently everything from interdimensional monsters to senior year bullies” He said, making her laugh softly.

“You don’t have to do that,” She said with a small shake of her head. “I’m alright, I will be anyways. You don’t have to worry so much about me-”

“See I do though- you- you make it impossible not to worry. I’m just always- I’m a mess, okay?”

She giggled again, and rose a brow.

“I’m not following…you sound kinda crazy Mike-”

“I love you, okay?” He told her.

She choked.

“And I just need you to not get yourself hurt… okay?”

She’d never heard him speak so quietly, so nervously.

“You- you’re- um-”

“No more fighting people- and-and things- bigger than you, deal?”

His hands cupped around her face, thumb stroking over the bruise on her cheekbone in a comforting sort of way. She swore she was melting into his touch, for a moment she forgot all about the agony her body was in.

She didn’t think twice about leaning off his shoulder so she could reach up and plant her lips against his. It’s a gentle kiss, because her lips are sore and she was a bit nervous.

Mike’s eyes widened, and he was sure this wasn’t real. No, it couldn’t be real, there was no way (y/n) was kissing him. Maybe he was the one that got knocked out? And this is all some kind of twisted nightmare-dream?

But it was real, she was kissing him. And it was… wow it was great.

She’d almost pulled away, but he pulled her right back in, and shut his eyes to kiss her properly this time.

If he was being honest, he wanted nothing more than to just take her and pour every ounce of love he had for her into this kiss, but it would probably only hurt her more.

They were cut off by a low whistle, and (y/n) turned to see Steve, who had apparently been sat next to her this whole time, and Dustin, who was sat on his other side, both giving the pair very different looks.

Despite his face looking just as messed up as hers, Steve pulled a sly grin, and winked.

Dustin, however, looked like he might vomit.

“What. The. Fuck!?” His voice cracked when he screamed, making both (y/n) and Mike jump a bit in their seat. “You guys have been- been- hooking up this whole time!?”

“What? No!” (y/n) argued back, shaking her head and trying to kill the idea in Dustin’s head before it escalated, but it seemed to be too late for that.

“You have! You’ve been frenching!”

“Oh my god,” Mike rolled his eyes. “Dustin, shut up”

“Can we save this argument for later, fellas?” Max hollered from the front. “I don’t think that this is the most important thing going on-”

“W-wait a- wait a minute- wait a-!” Steve’s eyes widened as he started to panic. “No! No way! Stop the car right now! Who let her drive-!?”

His screaming was abruptly cut off by the car swerving, causing everyone to scream now.

“Drive on the right side of the road! Jesus Christ we’re all gonna die!”

(y/n) wrapped both arms around Mike, one behind his neck and the other around his torso, keeping her secure. In case this car were to crash, her seatbelt, and Mike, would anchor her in place. Well, she hoped it would anyways.

He reacted quickly, embracing her tightly.

“I’ve been thinking I would get killed by a demogorgon,” She mumbled to him. “Guess it’ll just be a plain old car crash that takes me out”

He chuckled, but shook his head at her.

“No one’s dying, we had a deal”

She glanced up at him, a sweet smile on her lips. And she waited for him to look back down at her to say anything.

“I love you too” She hummed, just soft enough that Dustin (luckily) couldn’t hear.

The smile that grew on Mike’s face was brighter than she’d ever seen from him before. (y/n) was so relieved that her feelings were returned, that she felt she could go back to sleep, if she wasn’t getting nervous all over again about what was going to happen.

All they had to do now was to kill a monster and save their friends.

___

xoxo ~ jordie

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #mike wheeler #mike wheeler x reader #mike wheeler fanfiction #mike wheeler scenario #mike wheeler imagine #finn wolfhard #finn wolfhard x reader

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

Text

De(railed) +18

Summary: The canon episode "Derailed" reimagined where Reader is sent on the solo interview and Spencer, recklessly, decides to save her. Plus, the aftermath.

CW: mommy kink sub! Spencer x dom! female (she/her) reader, cum play, penetrative sex, light degradation, praise kink, light choking (mentioned), edging, calling him a slut (please let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 6 K (this is the longest thing I've ever written!)

Author's Note: Special thank you to @shemarmooresfedora for reading this for me because I was very nervous about the smut portion. And a very special thank you to @notanotherreidgirl for inspiring this idea! this was my ask so yeah, this is a little out there for me so be kind (*dips into the shadows*). Also I either really hate or really love this title :)

Taglist: You can join the taglist here!

De(railed)

Sitting on the train, headed towards Virginia for the custodial interview, you tried to remind yourself what Spencer said to you the previous night when you dropped him off at his apartment. You had his hands in yours and you could feel him shake with nerves when he spoke.

He told you that he believes in you. Even when you think that Hotch and Gideon are sending you out to the solo interview too early, Spencer believes in you. If only you’d believe a little bit in yourself, then maybe you’d be able to figure out a way off this train, but an armed man and innocent passengers proves that a little challenging.

The man passes the train up and down and you tell yourself to relax. In hindsight, it seems like a horrible series of events that lead to the man shooting the train attendant. You’ve done your best to keep him calm until the police can see him off the train. Looking outside, you see SWAT, local PD, and FBI lined up 50 yards from the train.

Continuing to wave his gun around the train, the unsub rants about wanting to talk to a higher authority. To yourself, to wish that Spencer was here with you. He’d have figured out exactly what was wrong with the man by now. For less than professional reasons, you’re forever grateful that he’s not here- that he’s safe on the other side of the train.

“He’s out of his mind,” the man holding a bottle of whiskey says, “You gotta do something, lady,” he says, taking a swig of his drink. Your eyes dart to him and back up the doctor, the unsub’s psychologist, looking for a way out.

You breathe deeply, hoping that the BAU would come up with a plan. Knowing FBI protocol, you expect them to try to initiate a line of communication. Glancing over at the unsub, you think that he’ll want to talk to someone who looks like they are powerful. That would be either Hotch or Gideon. Selfishly, you’re grateful that Spencer still looks like an underpaid TA with a toy gun attached at his hip.

“No! Please, don’t hurt me!” the young woman screams, trying to release herself from the man, Ted’s, grip. He releases her, throwing her to the ground when his phone rings.

Gideon.

On the phone with Gideon, the man demands for something to be removed. You can’t hear what he’s saying to the unsub, but you place the little faith you have left into hoping your team can save you.

***

His vest is much too big for him.

That’s all you can think of when you realize Spencer is the “technician” that they’re sending in. His tie and shirt stick awkwardly and there is a gap in his shoulders around the vest. The straps are pulled so tight that they nearly fold over. His hands aren’t shaking when he carries the small black box, but his eyes look terrified.

You want to reach out to him, maybe hold his hand or brush the strands of hair that have fallen into his face, but you can’t. You have to sit there and pretend that this is the first time you’ve met him. It’s excruciatingly sick and mildly amusing in an equally twisted way. The first time you’ve come to terms with loving Spencer, you both can very well die.

“I’m here for the chip,” Spencer says, holding his hands up, “the higher authorities sent me,” he claims, feeding into the unsubs delusion. You shield your glance, unable to trust yourself from launching yourself in between Spencer and the man with the gun.

“That’s far enough and drop your weapons,” Ted says, holding the crying woman by her neck, “and take that vest off. I want to see you,”

“I don’t have any weapons. They don’t authorize them for-”

“I said take it off!” the man shouts, throwing the woman to the ground.

Spencer complies, taking off the much too big vest and tossing it to the ground. He holds his hands up, playing the part of the unsuspecting underling well. He reaches out to Ted, showing him the tools that he’ll use to take out the “chip”. You wonder how Spencer will pull it off, but you know he will in the end.

Spencer digs into the man’s skin with the scalpel. You can’t catch the sleight of hand, but you know that’s what he used.

“I have to leave, the higher authorities need the chip-”

“Turn it on,” Ted orders, “Turn it on!” he screams, his voice booming in the small train.

Spencer’s eyes dart to yours thinking of ways that he can get out of here. He looks almost sorry, and you feel a wave of intense regret. The thousands of times you could have said those little words seem so simple now.

“I can’t turn it on,” Spencer says, “I can’t turn it on,” You hate how scared he sounds, and you hate even more how you have to pretend that you don’t know him.

“Why!” the unsub yells, thrashing the gun around, “You’re one of them!”

Thinking quickly when you see him point the gun at Spencer’s face, you jump to your feet. You push Spencer out of the way, terrified that he’ll do something rash. You can’t lose Spencer, not when you’ve hadn’t had the chance to have him yet.

“It needs to be implanted to be activated,” you say, “I know this stuff Ted, I’m a Fed. Only me. Everyone else,Ted is just innocent. Just let them go, Ted,” you plead, “Just let them go,”

“No!” he yells, shooting up into the ceiling of the train, “no!”

The windows are closed, but you suspect that Hotch and Gideon have the train surrounded by now. Spencer moves closer to you, staring at the man as he scratches his upper arm. He drops his hand towards yours and squeezes, like he’s saying sorry and saying goodbye all in one touch. You don’t realize this before it’s too late.

“Doctor Brier,” Spencer says, standing up with his hands near his head, “you’re right, there’s more-”

“Just make it stop!” the desperate man pleas, “Make it stop!”

“I know what it’s like, Ted. The voices, they’ve been talking to you since you were a kid. They don’t stop. I know what it’s like Ted,” Spencer says, inching closer and closer to him, “Leo? Why don’t you let him think for himself?” Spencer says, trying to use the man’s delusion against him.

“Don’t! Stop, you’re trying to trick me!” the man begs, whipping the gun around too close to Spencer’s face, “stop!”

You always listen to Spencer. Whatever he talks about, you listen. From Russian cinema to Star Trek to the Birch and Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture, you listen to him. It’s not that hard and it’s easy to get lost in his eyes or the way his hands move when he talks. But the seconds leading up to when the gunshot goes off, you’re not listening.

Because without Spencer, there isn’t much worth listening to.

***

Your eyes are squeezed shut so when a large hand hovers over your shoulder you jump at the touch. It takes you all of ten seconds to realize it’s Spencer. You look him over, searching for signs of mortal wounds that will rip him from your clutches, but there isn’t any.

“You’re okay,” you say, wanting nothing more but to kiss him or yell at him, or maybe a mix of the two, “you’re okay,” you repeat, not fully believing it the first time.

“We’re okay,” Spencer says, hugging you tight as you collapse into his arms, not caring if the rest of the team watches.

“I haven’t been fair to you, Spence,” you say, breaking from the hug to caress his face. You stop, holding his face in your hands, soaking him in, “you’re not someone who gets strung along, baby. I fucking love you and you-you mean so much to me. And I hate-I hate that it took you almost dying for me to realize that,” you cry, unable to care anymore.

“You love me?” Spencer whispers, unable, himself to care that they have an audience, “You love me back, but I’m, I-I,”

“Spencer,” you tell him, pausing to kiss him fully, “I,” you plant another kiss, on his right cheek, “love,” left cheek, “you,” forehead.

“You do, don’t you?” he says, looking at you with a proud smirk, “I guess that’s good because, I love you, Y/N. I don’t go risk my life just for everyone,”

“Watch yourself, baby,” you remind him, channeling the surge of pure life that runs through your veins, “you’re in for it later, my darling,” you tell him, whispering into his ear so only he can hear.

***

You didn’t even give him time to breathe before you pushed him up against the wall. Spencer’s hands still held yours, you don’t think that he dropped them since you two safely exited the train. He whimpers through the kiss, his breathy moan only serving to spur you on. His hands broke from yours, clinging to your waist. Spencer tries to peel your clothes from your skin, but he's much too distracted by your lips that travel across his cheekbones and down to his neck. He’s breathless and panting, but you don’t let up. If he’s breathing, he’s alive and that’s all that matters now.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry,” Spencer pleads, the desperation in his voice causing you to pause from your attack on his neck, “I-I, Y/N,” he stutters, feeling empty without your kisses.

“I’m not mad, sweet boy. I’m not mad at you,” you say, laying on a sweet voice as your fingers skim through Spencer’s hair. He’s shaking slightly and closes his eyes, looking like he’s grateful to be alive.

“You’re not, but I wasn’t good,” he whispers, “I wasn’t good for you, Mommy,”

You do everything in your power to keep your composure, but after a day like today, you’re ready to melt into him. He might be the one begging at your feet soon, but there’s no doubt in your mind that it’s you who's wrapped around his finger. He looks up at you, with his back leaning against the wall; his face flushed pink and marks littering his neck.

“You scared me, Spence. I thought- I just let me take care of you,” you request, dropping your hands from his hair and grabbing onto his hand as you lead him to your bedroom. You’ve made it a habit to go to your place after cases; Spencer claims that the sunlight that dips into your bedroom in the morning is more pleasant than his view of the street, but you know he just prefers your bed and the attention he gets at your place.

“Please, Y/N,” he begs, following you into the bedroom. He’s at your heels and burrowed deeply in your heart, exactly where you want him.

You drop his hands, guiding him so his knees hit the edge of your plush bed. He kicks off his shoes and starts to undo his tie and shirt, but you stop him before he gets the chance.

“Let me do that for you, baby. I’m taking care of you tonight,” you say, feeling your heart swell as he looks up at you adoringly, “Mommy’s got you, my brave boy,” you tell him, your fingers grazing over his cheekbones, his nose and eyes. His eyes close as you continue to draw shapeless shapes over his skin.

“Thank you,” he mutters, saying it like a pray as he relaxes for the first time today, “thank you, Mommy,”

You smile at the name, enjoying how pliant he is as you unbutton his shirt and loosen his tie. His flushed cheeks lead down his equally flushed chest. You place both your legs over his body, hovering over him as you straddle him. The proximity eggs him on and the minimal friction near his pants causes him to buck up words. Mercilessly, you chuckle at his attempt to get off. You want nothing more than to put him out of his misery, but watching him squirm for the tiniest bit of affection— your affection makes you nearly as desperate as Spencer.

“Patience, sweetheart,” you tell him, harshly pulling off his shirt as you nibble on his ear. He whimpers out in desire, already unable to form coherent thoughts even though you’ve so much as kissed him.

You stop touching him, sinking down to your knees before him. Spencer looks down at you, his pupils blown and his hair messy from being pushed up against the wall. His breathing is erratic and unmeasured, but he’s heart is still beating. You smile, unafraid and not caring that it breaks character as you give his thigh a squeeze. You bring his hands to his buttons, motioning for him to unbutton his pants for you.

“I can’t do all the work now, can I, baby?” You question rhetorically, quite self satisfied that he nods eagerly. He quickly undoes his pants, kicking the heavy corduroy trousers near your bathroom door. If the moment wasn’t so tense and erratic, you probably would have teased him for his excitement.

“I want to touch you, please? Mommy” Spencer starts, his hands holding your face as you kneel. He holds your face so delicately and gently, it’s a contrast to the sinful way he’s squirming above you.

“Not yet,” you tsk, slipping your finger under the waistband of his boxers. The bulge in his underwear looks very uncomfortable, but Spencer clearly tries his best to behave under your strong stare. You peel back the underwear and let it drop to Spencer’s feet. His cock, now exposed, is painfully hard. He concentrates on his breathing and trying to remain composed as your fingers travel up his leg and towards his groin.

“There’s my pretty boy,” you coo, grabbing Spencer’s jaw and making him look down at you. He lets pitiful whine at your words, “Come on, make my fingers nice and wet,” you order, sticking out two fingers that he sucks enthusiastically.

“What a good little slut I have, you’re sucking Mommy’s fingers just as if it’s my strap, aren’t you sweet boy,” you say, gently resting your other palm loosely around his neck. You don’t apply any pressure, but let it serve as a reminder of what could happen.

Happily, Spencer sucks your fingers, moaning around them and bucking his hips up in frustration. Marred by impatience, you remove your fingers from his mouth and kneel back down on the floor. Loosely, you grip his cock with your wet fingers. Spencer whines at the friction that’s nothing close to enough.

“Tell me how that feels,” you demand, “Tell Mommy how I makes you feel,”

“I-I feel,” Spencer starts, concentrating intently, but unable to truly articulate the passion you ignite in him, “Mommy, you make me feel so good,” Spencer says, finally finding the words, even though they barely scratch the surface.

“That’s all I want, baby. You deserve to feel good. So let me take care of you, my love,” you tell him, watching as he simpers at your words.

For a second there you let yourself think that maybe it’s calling him my love that prompted his reaction, not the promise of his cock in your mouth. You know after tonight there’s no tip toeing around it anymore: you’re unequivocally in love with him and you’re a little disappointed that it took the pair of you nearly dying to figure it out finally.

Looking back up at him, you abandon your plans for a moment. You kiss him hard. Normally, you’d hate the way your teeth clash against someone else’s and how the kiss isn’t really a kiss. It’s hard to pace yourself when he’s whimpering below you as you grind down hard on his crotch. The fabric of your pants provides much needed friction, causing Spencer to cry out in a twisted mix of pleasure and pain. He paws at your work short, silently begging for you to shed your layers as well.

“Good boys wait,” you tell him, kissing his forehead and sinking back down for the last time. You’ll never be done teasing him, but for now you intend to put his needs first.

“Such a pretty cock that only I get to see,” you coo, running a finger up his length, relishing in how he shudders at your touch. You’ve touched him so many times, yet he reacts each time as if it’s the first. He’s leaking precum as his breathing becomes more and more strained. This is far from your first time with Spencer and you’re well aware of the signs of his release.

Smiling up at him, you lazily wrap your hand around him, giving him the smallest bit of friction and attention that he needs to come. You drop him once he’s close to the edge, his pleading, begging eyes turning glazed over when he realizes you’re taking off your shirt. By the way he’s looking at you, you’d think you’d be wearing your best lingerie. Quickly, you’ve learned that with Spencer you could be wearing your ratty college tee shirts and he’d still look at you like you were dripping in gold.

“Mommy,” he pleads, “I’m a good boy,” he says, no trying to convince himself to hold back from his release, “please Mommy. I’m gonna-“ Spencer says, the flush on his face deepening as he throws his head back in ecstasy. However, he summons enough energy and will to reach out and palm your boobs. You don’t hide your moans as he rolls a nipple in between his thumb and pointer finger. It only encourages him, but nowhere can you find in yourself to care.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” Spencer whimpers, unable to hold himself up anymore and collapsing on the bed. His chest heaves up and down as he tries to collect himself. He comes all over your chest, staining your lavender bralette and looking very proud of himself. Spencer learned quickly as well that coming before you’ve even touched him earns him quite the praise.

“Such a good boy,” you praise, choosing to ignore him coming without permission, “such a messy boy though,” you chastise, squeezing his thigh and crawling your fingers up his chest.

“Mommy, please, I want to make you feel good too. I love you,” Spencer begs, his eyes droopy with exhaustion from the long day and glazed over with his orgasm. His words slur together as if he's drunk off something potent. His eyes meet yours, but flit down quickly. He scans your soiled chest, licking his lips unconsciously as his eyes rank over your breasts covered in the lavender lacy and stained with his cum.

“Do you know what good boys do?” You ask, expecting Spencer to answer the question without hesitation.

“They clean up their mess, Mommy,” he says. In a moment of bravery, he grabs your hand, guiding you to lay down on the bed. He twists his hands around your back, unlatching your bra from your body and tosses it on the ground.

Above you, Spencer lowers his face so his chin barely grazes your chest. His tongue darts out onto your skin, licking up the messy cum that fell on your chest. You place your hands in his hair, gripping firmly. It’s not hard enough to cause any pain, but it’s tight enough to remind him to stay put. Spencer hums contently, lapping up your chest, but keeping his eyes trained on yours. You pull him up by his hair, pieces fall over his blissed out eyes. He smiles up at you, his chin glistening with cum, but looking pleased with himself.

“That’s a good boy,” you praise, pulling him up to kiss him deeply. His tongue swirls around in yours and his large hands cup your face. You can feel him moving in your lap, more and more desperate for attention and friction as you continue to hold him off, “I love you, baby,” you say, hoping that he’ll hear enough times for it to stick and for him to start living his life like he wants to stay alive.

“Just for you, Mommy,” Spencer mumbles, already sucking and marking the valley between your breasts, “Can you? Please?” Spencer asks, still embarrassed, after all these months to put to words his desires.

“What, baby? You need to use your words,” you tell him, scooting up in the bed and smirking to yourself as Spencer practically chases you up the headboard, “You need to tell him what you want me to do, baby,” you say, talking slowly as you rub circles into his skin. He’s still hot to the touch and flushed all over.

“I want to make you feel good,” Spencer begs, licking his fiery red lips that are swollen and bitten from your earlier treatment, “I want you to feel good,” he says, attempting to buck his hips against your legs.

“Are you sure about that, Spence?” you ask, teasing him with your wandering hands. One stays latching in his hair, exposing his criminally bare neck and the other sneaks down to his cock, but hardly satisfies his burning need, “Because it seems like you’re an insolent little slut who only cares if he gets off. Do I need to remind you that I have needs as well,” you chide, increasing your grip on his hair as your lips nip the sensitive skin of his neck. He shudders in response, unable to fully articulate a sentence.

“But you’re lucky, you’re beautiful, Dr. Reid,” you say, dropping his hair and letting his head fall onto your chest. Knowing your expectations, Spencer doesn’t hesitate to kiss and nip along your skin. You feel your panties dampen at the sight of him: his hair wild and messy, his neck marked with evidence of your mouth, and his chest is bright red, somehow still flustered and embarrassed by your affections. You find it bizarre that he still doesn’t fully believe just how head over heels you are for him. He’s too good and pure for this world, and you’ll happily spend the rest of your life reminding him just how deserving of goodness and pureness he is.

“I love you,” Spencer whimpers against your skin, his breath is hot as he pants, “but please fuck me,” he begs, flipping around on his back so you can be on top.

“Don’t worry, sweet boy, Mommy will take care of you,” you remind him, balancing yourself so you can hover over him, “Now, I’d normally want you to be quiet, but I want to hear everything. So use that pretty mouth of yours and tell me how you feel, sweetie,” you instruct, maneuvering yourself so you’re lined up with him.

“Give me a second, please,” Spencer asks, pushing himself up so his back rests against the headboard, “You make me crazy, I just need a moment to think,” he says, quietly, staring off nothing in the bedroom. You take the opportunity to grab his hand, that’s gripping onto your floral patterned sheets, and kiss his scars on his knuckles. Some are new and fresh, while others are old, from longer ago than working at the BAU. You kiss them over, as if your lips are able to help the evidence of his physical pain.

“You make me crazy too, Spencer,” You say, growing more and more unhinged as he moves underneath you, “I love you so much, darling,” you tell him, kissing his eyes, lips, nose, anything you can reach.

Slowly, so slowly, you sink down onto Spencer. You watch his microexpressions, but you know how he’ll react. He squeezes his eyes shut, as if he’s willing himself to hold off. He breathes in and out, teetering on the edge. You wait for his nod, for his sign of approval that you can move. He whines and peeks open his eyes. Spencer’s hands dig into your waist, his strong, large hands searching for any skin to grab onto.

“Please move, Mommy,” Spencer begs, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he starts to plead with you to have mercy on him, “I need it, Mommy,” he moans.

“Don’t be greedy, darling. You’ll take what I give you, but don’t you want to make me feel good too, baby,” you ask, guiding his nimble fingers to your slick core. His thumb and pointer finger begin to rub quick circles around your clit. You bite your lip, trying to keep your composure as you feel the pressure build. Between the heightened tensions of work and Spencer's hot breath against your neck, you know that you’ll come soon. Spencer’s breathy moans get more and more desperate.

“Are you already going to come again, love?” You ask, increasing your pace. His other hand grips your thigh, drawing shapes into your soft skin. Following suit, you match his sweet movements on his cheek. His breath is his shaky as you stroke his cheek lovingly, “Make me come first and then, maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you come inside me,” you promise, already knowing that you’ll let him come inside you.

“Watch you disappear inside me, baby. Watch your pretty cock slip inside my pussy. It’s just like you were made for me, darling,” you cry, your voice getting slightly breathy yourself. You watch yourself as his cock goes in and out, red with overstimulation. Spencer’s eyes, littered with small tears, looks transfixed.

“Fuck,” Spencer says, “I’m so close, Mommy. I-I, you make me feel so good. You’re so beautiful, I-I-”

“So needy, you’re so fucking needy,” you say to him. You can tell he’s growing more and more impatient by the moment. His hands lurch towards your chest, pawing at your boobs. Spencer’s sloppy movements bring you closer and closer to the edge.

“So good, so good,” he repeats, his sweaty forehead rests on your collarbone. You pull him up again his hair, relishing in the pitiful moan that he lets out. It’s raw and pure sin, it should make you want to fuck him more, but it only makes you want to love him more.

You’re drunk on him. Drunk on his moans and whimpers of pleasure. You’re drunk on the way his skin sticks to yours and how his hands roam around your body, always finding a spot on your torso and legs that makes you approach the edge closer and closer. You wonder, for a second, if you’re being too hard on him. If you should just whisper that little sentence and let Spencer feel the wave of pleasure.

“I need it, Mommy,” Spencer pants, kissing lined up your chest and collarbone. His face is pressed up against your face and moves up and down as you continue your pace, “I-I, Mommy, I want you to-”

“What do you want, baby? Hmm? Tell Mommy?” You ask, your voice sounding sickly sweet. The noise of moans fills the room, Spencer’s moan akin to whimpers and whines and your’s more like praises and words of approval, “you’ve been such a good boy, baby I’ll give you want whatever you want, my love”

“Please, please let me make you come, Mommy. I need you to come, Mommy. I need it,” Spencer whines, looking up into your eyes and latching onto them in the darkness.

It’s sinful how the filthy words contrast with his sweet, shy tones. He looks so innocent, but enthralling with his face between your hands, but his own hands rubbing small circles on your clit. His moans grow more high pitched. You kiss by his ear, ready to whisper the words of approval that you’ve neared your release.

“Oh god, Spencer. God. You have no idea what you do to me. My sweet boy,” you murmur, pressing Spencer’s face further into your chest. You can feel him heave and his breathing grow more and more unsteady, but he still has enough sense to continue rubbing your clit.

You kiss him, wanting to feel him everywhere when you come undone. Kissing him is desperate and full of gasps of air. His skin is so soft as you slide across his mouth, up his cheeks, and over his jaw. His helpless moans spur you on, giving you the strength and energy to thrust down on him another time before you feel yourself come undone.

“It’s your turn, baby. Come on, sweetheart. Come inside me and maybe I’ll have to call you daddy? Hmm?” you chant, halting your movements to torture him a little longer.

“Please, Y/N. Please let me fill you up,” Spencer begs, his voice hoarse and scratchy from being so vocal, “I’m yours. I love you so much,” he calls out, wrapping his arms around you so your chests are pressed up together. He holds you sweetly and you kiss his shoulders and his neck, choosing to leave a large red welt as a reminder for him.

“You like that? Hmm you like if I call you Daddy and let you fill me up? Come on, Spencer. You can come. Don’t you want to be a good boy for Mommy?,” you say, giving him the permission that he’s been desiring all night.

He tightens his grip on your upper half as he meets his release. Spencer’s strangled moans turn into sweet whimpers as he looks down into your laps. Quietly, you ride him through the rest of his orgasm, letting him come down from his high peppered with light pecks along his freckled shoulders and sharp jawline. Spencer smiles into the kisses, his eyes are shut and his cheeks are dusted with a light pink flush. For the first time today, he looks relaxed and safe.

“Thank you, Mommy,” Spencer says quietly, mirroring your motions and kissing your shoulders and neck as you slow your pace, “Can we stay like this. Just for a moment,” Spencer asks, burning for the feeling of being inside you for even a couple more minutes.

“Of course, baby,” you tell him, squeezing him into a tight hug, “you did so wonderful for me. Such a good boy. I love my sweet boy,” you tell him, brushing the stray hairs from his face. His neck is marked by your mouth and his eyes are glazed with sleep and desire.

“I love you,” Spencer says again, his forehead falling against yours and his breath hitching as you move slightly with him inside you, “and I’m sorry. I’m sorry about today,”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart and then we’ll talk about it,” you suggest, taking the opportunity to kiss his lips as you pull yourself away from his lap.

Spencer doesn’t say much in response, but nods silently. He groans slightly as you separate your bodies and he tries to chase your lips with his as you climb out of the bed and into your bathroom.

“Please come back,” Spencer says, sounding like he wasn’t sure if you’d keep your promise.

“I’m right here, Spence,” you reassure him, returning from the bathroom dressed in an old tee shirt and carrying a warm, damp washcloth and a pair of clean underwear for Spencer.

“Can you please hold me? Please, Y/N. I need you,” Spencer says, reaching out to you in the dark. That’s one request you know you’d never deny.

“Of course, Spence. Just let me clean you up and I’ll hold you,” you tell him, gently dragging the warm towel over his skin. He’s quiet as you clean him up, but his soulful eyes look lost and sheepish, making him look smaller and more vulnerable than he actually is. You drop the towel to the floor, not caring that the water isn’t good for the floor.

You lay back down on the bed and Spencer, like a magnet to another magnet, crawls in close. He’s still undressed, except for the underwear that you gave him. His eyes are droopy and his breathing is still shaky, but steadies out as your hands draw circles on his back. You pull the covers up to his chin, making sure he’s covered before you start what you know all too well is a difficult conversation.

“Spencer,” you croak, “Why did you do that? Why do you think that’s okay?” you ask, still trying to make sense of why Spencer would risk his life like that so recklessly. You hold him tighter, squeezing his arm as he breathes out, ready to tell you what he’s never told anyone before.

“Bec-, because- I don’t matter,” he says, the words choking out between cries of years and years of pain, “because it doesn’t matter to anyone if I don’t come home. I don’t have anyone to come home to,”

“You’ve always had me,” you say quietly, “I’m your person to come home with, Spence,” you tell him, hoping with all the faith in your body that he’ll believe you. You hold his hand, weaving your fingers in his. Looking at your hands intertwined together, you’d think that your hand was made for it. It’s a little cliche, but Spencer is the kind of man that makes all those cliches seem like wonderful possibilities.

“I-I, I never had someone before,” Spencer says, “I mean, I had my mom, but it’s gotten harder. But then, then, I met you. And I never thought you’d like me like that, Y/N. I never thought you could love me,”

“Spencer,” you say, twisting around so you can hold his face in your hands, “Spencer, I love you. You are so much more than your job. You’re worthy of being loved, Goose. And I’d spend the rest of my life making you realize this”

“You want to spend the rest of your life- the rest of your life with me?” Spencer asks, sounding like he can’t believe the words that you say.

“Spence, I’ve loved you since I’ve known you,” you say, dragging your hands through his curly hair that’s matted against his forehead, “You would have realized that if you weren’t too carried away with making me your future history,”

“I think I have a habit of doing that,” Spencer confesses, kissing your forehead sweetly, “You’re- I’m sorry that I worried you like that, but for so long, for so long this is all I’ve had. And before that it was school. I throw myself into academia or work because it’s all I had,”

“Had,” you repeat, “as in the past tense. You’ve had some much more than too, Spence. We all love you. Elle and Derek. JJ and Hotch. Penny and Gideon. We all love you, but I love you the most,”

“Good,” Spencer replies, turning his head down to kiss you, “because I love you the most,”

His lips glide across yours, moving slowly at first and faster as he grows more urgent. There’s no sense in rushing through. You could kiss him lazily in your bed all night and continue until it gives way to morning. There’s no time limit, no buzzer that’s going to go off and force Spencer to whole himself back up into his past. He smiles through the kiss, knowing well that there’s more to come tomorrow, or maybe even tonight. His lips were warm and soft, maybe still a little tender from before, but still eager to feel your lips against his. Breathing together, savoring that you both are breathing, you smile yourself, fully ready for whatever comes next.

***

Taglist (not my usual taglist because I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable bc this is smut. You can join the taglist here!)

@shemarmooresfedora @just-another-persona123 @folkreid @idonotexiste @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @fandomfriend33 @spencersrose @strawberryspence

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #no minors #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut fic #spencer reid x fem reader #sub spencer reid #derailed #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #no minors please

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

Anakin Assists the Jedi Council While On Medical Leave

AU brainstormed primarily by @atagotiak, @gelpenss, and myself.

Basically, a fix-it based in Anakin getting a peek into the daily life on the Council early, and accidentally Figuring Some Shit Out along the way, mostly because Palps Fucks Up.

So, Anakin gets injured in a way that limits him to Coruscant for a few weeks. He can still walk and talk, but he can't fight. The specific injury doesn't matter, just this:

Anakin runs errands on behalf of the council and sits in on meetings to take minutes as a "you're on medical leave but we need all hands on deck, congrats you get to be the secretary until we can send you on stabbing missions again" thing.

Also, there just aren't a whole lot of people with Anakin's clearance level. They had to send out Stass Allie to handle the mission that was originally next on Anakin's roster, and Anakin's the most convenient person to substitute into her position.

He's not super happy about this but he can more or less understand the point of it. Given that he gets antsy about needing to fight almost immediately, he can acknowledge the worth of having something useful to do, if only as the person who's writing down who says what and making sure everyone has the right file on hand.

(Besides, Obi-Wan jokes in a way that Anakin thinks might be encouraging, this is good practice if Anakin ever wants to be on the High Council himself!)

(This is a very helpful conversation.)

BASICALLY, Anakin is resigned to this but agrees because "Usually we have Master Allie handle this but we need her running that mission that was originally set for the 501st, so you get to fill in for her until you can switch back. Think of it as training for eventual mastery or admin or--listen, we're just really stretched thin."

Here's the key thing, though: Anakin isn't supposed to leave the Temple, for medical reasons, so Palpatine doesn't know Anakin is sitting in on Council meetings. They haven't met up since Anakin's last surgery, and because [muffled hand-wave reason] he didn't find out another way, like Anakin comming him or the Council giving him the heads-up about the change in attendance.

It's fine. He's just taking notes and doing preparatory research, he has the clearance, the Chancellor likes him anyway. Hell, they'd have had someone's Padawan doing this, before the war increased the necessary clearance levels. They'll toss in a quick message in the brief they send to Palps that he never reads anyway, and that's really all they need to do. Skywalker's getting some rounded experience and this way the medics won't be freaking out about him stressing his heart after getting electrocuted by trying to spar too early.

Palpatine doesn't talk directly to the Council, he just sends a recording the first time Anakin is there. It's a bit weird, but nothing goes wrong. Anakin's off-screen from whatever device they use to send a response, since he's not technically a member, just assisting for a bit on the part of Master Allie's duties that he's actually allowed to touch (and not the bits that are getting added to Mace, Plo, and Shaak's stuff).

The first four or so meetings are like that. Anakin starts having a bit of sympathy for the Council as he sees how many things they want to do that are hampered by the need for Senatorial approval, things that he would also want to do and didn't think required this much red tape.

About a week in, still mostly recordings with Anakin just sitting on the side playing paralegal, the wheel of fortune turns a few pegs.

Palpatine hands over a an order on the range of injury that a soldier should be treated for, "to ensure that republic resources aren't being wasted on clones that, while expensive, would actually be cheaper to replace than repair."

Oh, he dresses it up in prettier language than that. Anakin doesn't process it as such first.

The Chancellor manages to couch his phrasing in "prioritizing resources for taxpaying republic citizens and employees of the GAR," which... well.

The natborn commissioned officers pay taxes. The Jedi are employees. The clones are neither, because they're slaves.

Probably he frames it as the employees thing, very much the kinda language that sounds halfway ok unless you’re fluent in political bullshit.

And Anakin is really confused at first about why the council is upset by the order because, okay, he would PREFER to be able to use medical supplies on refugees when possible, but he understands prioritizing the soldiers?

He just looks up, totally lost, when someone groans and goes, "That's the third time this year, is he trying to get us all killed?"

And it vibes as such a genuine, aggrieved, sad reaction that Anakin is completely blindsided because it's not the sarcastic, petty resentment he kind of expected? It's just... desperate depression.

And someone gently has to explain that this is the third time they've had resources restricted to only GAR employees and that it's a polite way of saying "prioritize natborn officers, stop wasting resources on clones, we can replace them easier."

Or maybe he doesn't ask, because he's just there to take notes, not argue, and he can see the masters drawing up a response that amounts to "We would like to remind you that our soldiers do not fall into that classification, and to limit their access to our medical supplies is liable to cause a loss of life that we find unreasonably high. Please see the annotations attached to adjust wording so that the clones may receive the same level of care."

Anakin's internally just like "Yeah, that's phrased nice and addresses the main problem, Palpatine will obviously agree and change it!"

And then he comes in the next day and the response comes in and it's just dripping condescension about considering the clones actual people.

"This is why we can't use the bacta tanks on clones anymore, just the patches. We could use them at first, we had a few of the CCs get through fatal injuries with them, but they cut that off and said we could only use the tanks on Jedi and non-clone officers a few months ago. The Banking Clans keep tightening their belts on the army, and the Chancellor insists we put citizens first, and the clones aren't citizens. We've been arguing back as much as we can, but he keeps going on about the economy and we can't... we just can't, Skywalker. We're trying to save as many of our men as we can, but..."

Something like "Allocation of resources reiterated, the Kaminoans have assured the senate that the Jedi are far from exhausting the resources ordered."

And Anakin's like. He can't blame the council for lying about Palpatine's past or future actions. He just saw Palpatine's actions. Those actions were to order people under his control to throw away lives he saw as replaceable commodities.

These are his friends' lives.

His soldiers are being thrown away by a man in a tower that he trusted.

And then that man has the gall to suggest it's the council's fault.

Palpatine is good at what he does, especially in public, he dresses it up in flowery language and everything, but Anakin's just like "Those are my FRIENDS and also this is??? How slavers talked about their property on Tatooine???? FRIENDPATINE, WHAT THE FUCK."

Anakin can be passive aggressive sometimes as well as outright aggressive. So if he brings up the guidelines and why they make him upset in general terms, and Palpatine says something about how he’s sad the council doesn’t care about the clones...

Anakin, internally, having just watched the council scramble to save as many clones as possible within the guidelines that Palps handed down: Uh-huh.

(Anakin is just the gay horror teeth gif from queer eye.)

Just. “Yeah, funny you say that, Palpatine! Because as I remember, you told the council not to waste more resources than necessary while Mace Windu was arguing to expand the treatment range!”

Palps doesn't even have time to salvage the situation or attack Anakin because Anakin just bulldoze rants for fifteen minutes and then storms out.

Anakin... maybe does a little treason and gets a copy of the orders so he can ask Padme "Hey, can you explain the politics of this?" and doesn't tell her who wrote it so she isn't biased (he tells her that this is why he's not sharing the author's/speaker's name), and just lets Padme pick apart all the 'this is a nice way of saying they don't view the clones as people' details.

Alternately, someone on the Council sees Anakin dithering and manages to get him to admit that he's not great at political language and wants to ask someone to help him understand the full implications. The person--Mace? let's go with Mace--is aware that Anakin is on good terms with Senator Amidala, if not necessarily aware of the depth of said relationship. Mace points out that he's probably going to be seeing her soon just because he usually does and, as a Senator, she can get easy access to these sessions since they're not about specific missions, just allocation of resources, etc. It's not an optimal solution, but she's got a bit more free time than anyone else Anakin knows with the clearance levels, like Order members that are actively involved in the war effort.

Anakin dithers and panics and Mace, trying to be helpful, tells him that plenty of Jedi have made friends among the Senate over the years, didn't you know Qui-Gon Jinn was a personal friend of Former Chancellor Valorum?

At any rate, Anakin goes to Padme and asks her to explain it to him, because she knows how to phrase things so he gets it.

Anakin has to have her pause and he goes outside and destroys some things halfway through.

(Anakin maybe thinks back to the times Padmé or Obi-Wan were really obviously frustrated and when he asked, they said stuff like “I can’t stand Palpatine rn, sorry Anakin I know he’s important to you and you don’t want to talk about politics, let’s just talk about something else.”)

(Obi-Wan: I don’t trust Palpatine Anakin: you just don’t like politicians in general Obi-Wan: yes that is also true)

(Obi-Wan does like Bail and Padme but he does also talk a bit about how politicians generally aren’t to be trusted.)

#Anakin Skywalker #Sheev Palpatine #Jedi High Council #Mace Windu #fix it fic #star wars #star wars prequels #Phoenix Posts #Padme Naberrie

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f1nalboys · 3 years

Note

Okay, okay! So I love your poly!Ghostface dark/angst, but I wanna see you do some poly!Ghostface dark/fluff too(if that's a thing?)! Still unhealthy/toxic relationship, but one where their feelings are at least actually true and genuine. Trio vs the World shit. Best Friends to Lovers blah blah blah cause you know Im a slut for that lmao. NSFW too if you're willing 👀

AHH so glad I finally got to this request I'm sorry it took me so long :(( HOWEVER i had fun writing it!! i really hope you enjoy (ps, no smut unfortunately i tried to add it and it was coming out wrong ahhh) flashbacks are italicized!

WORD COUNT: 2352

WARNINGS: toxic relationship, kinda cute moments between the three of you, cursing, little bit of stalking, threats of violence, no nsfw because i was a little lazy sorry :,(

Had someone told you five years ago that you'd be dating not only Billy Loomis but Stu Macher as well, you’d have laughed straight in their face. And yet here you were, curled up on the couch between the two, your legs thrown over Billys and your head resting on Stu’s shoulder, watching a horror movie. You smile softly as you feel Billy’s hand grip your thigh slightly. He never seemed to realize he was doing it which made it even cuter.

“Remember the day I met you guys?” You question, head moving off of Stu’s shoulder when he turns to look at you. He gives you a goofy grin and nods, kissing the tip of your nose. “Sure, baby. Why?”

“Did you think we would have gotten together? Like, back then?”

“Definitely,” Billy says, poking his finger into your side. You raise an eyebrow at him, catching his hand and holding it in your lap. He sighs, grinning slightly. “Alright, maybe not the day we met, but I knew pretty soon. Why? What’s got you thinking about it?”

You shrug, not really sure yourself. Something about the situation you three were in at the moment made your mind drift to those few awful god damn weeks. “You two really sucked then, you know? Honestly, I’m surprised I didn't kill you both.”

Stu gasps, throwing himself back with a hand on his heart. You roll your eyes; ever the dramatic. “You would have hurt us? I can’t believe this… the betrayal!” You elbow him and he sits back up, laughing, and wraps his arms around you, planting a few sloppy kisses onto your neck.

“We weren’t even that bad, babe.” Billy says, eyes widening as you glare at him.

“Not that bad? Do I need to remind you of the first thing you said to me when we met?” You shoot back, sitting up closer to Stu. You had already forgiven the two for how they acted then, but that doesn’t mean you can’t give them a hard time.

The first day you met Billy and Stu, it had started out good. You still didn’t have many friends but that was perfectly okay with you. You were sat in the grass outside one of the buildings where your next class was held, waiting. Thirty more minutes and you got to go to math; yay. You were leaned up against a tree, headphones in, trying to relax, when two men stood in front of you. They were pretty cute. One was tall, wearing a thin sweater and a goofy grin, while the other was shorter with dark hair and a smirk. The tall one's mouth moves and you pull your earbuds out, about to apologize for not hearing him, when the shorter one speaks.

“Pretty stupid to wait for someone to talk to you before taking your headphones out.” His smile was still there but it was clearly masking his annoyance. Your eyebrows raise in surprise at the gall of this dude. You don’t even know him and he thinks he’s owed a conversation?

“Excuse me?”

“What? You’re deaf and a bitch?” The taller one slaps the back of his head immediately and he grumbles, rubbing the soreness. You scoff, shaking your head, fuming. Was it just this dude or were most people here dicks? You didn't want to find out.

You stand, grabbing your bag and pushing past the two, heading towards the building. Your eyes instantly roll into the back of your head when you hear the sound of footsteps behind you. “Hey, I’m sorry about him, really. That’s how he jokes and sometimes it comes across as mean. I’m Stu and he’s Billy.”

Stopping in your tracks you turn to face Stu, the taller one, and take a second to think of a response. Glancing over at Billy, who had finally caught up with you, you can see what resembles regret on his features. “Well, he didn’t come across as mean, he came across as an asshole.”

Stu laughs, nodding. Billy shrugs, giving you that same weak smile he had shown when he approached. You shrug your backpack up higher onto your shoulder, the weight of it starting to get to you, when Billy grabs ahold of it and yanks it off of you. “What the hell? Give me my shit back!”

“Least I can do is to carry it for you. You going to class?” He asks. It’s like he wasn’t taking no for an answer. You give a large sigh and nod, silently thankful for the weight off your shoulders. “Which building?”

“Sycamore.” He nods and begins to walk there, you and Stu trailing behind him. “Is he always so...?” You ask Stu under your breath, trailing off, unsure of a word that could describe the man. He grins and nods. “Annoying? Mean? Stubborn? Yes, yes, and yes.”

Billy groans at the memory, annoyed. He hated when you brought that up. “I told you I was just having an off day! Come on, you’re acting like Stu didn’t offend you too! Do you not remember when you got food with us, like, that night?” Stu punches Billy in the shoulder hard, pissed that he had brought it up.

“Oh yeah! I kinda forgot about how much of a dickhead Stu was,” You say, leaning back against the couch. It really was a shock your relationship with the boys got to where it was now.

Billy and Stu followed you around all day. It seemed they were trying to apologize for Billy’s attitude earlier but, if you were being honest, it was kind of unnerving. After your math class, where they had walked you inside the building and only left when the professor came in, you saw them waiting outside under the tree you had been at.

“Can you guys stop following me?” You had told them the third time you noticed them, this time at the small diner you stopped by after your last class. Stu’s face turned red and he looked behind him as if there was someone else you could be talking about. “Yeah, you two.”

“We wanted to apologize for earlier,” Billy said, motioning for you to join them at their table. You had to choose which one to sit next too and, after your not-so-pleasant meeting with Billy that morning, you sat next to Stu. He sticks his tongue out at Billy who rolls his eyes.

“You already apologized. It’s getting kind of creepy.” You say, placing your elbow on the table. Before the boys could respond, the waitress walks over, placing down their drinks. She flashes you a smile and takes your order, walking off with a sway in her hips, much to the boy's enjoyment.

Stu throws an arm over your shoulder and you shrug him off, ignoring the pained look he gives you. “We just wanted to make sure you really knew we were sorry! Billy here never acts right around a hottie,”

“Stu you fucking idiot.” Billy spits, throwing something at him. Stu laughs, holding his hands up in mock surrender. Billy looks at you and gives you what looks like a real, genuine smile. “Sorry about him; he can’t seem to think with his upstairs brain.”

“Don’t need to when my downstairs one leads me to be sitting next to a smoke show,” Stu says, holding his hand out to you for a high five. Your face flushes and you ignore him, scooting away from him slightly. He was cute, sure, but way too forward. “What? Can’t compliment people anymore?”

“Not when your compliments are preceded by stalking.” You mutter, a part of you hoping he doesn’t hear it. Unfortunately, he does. You see his face change in your peripheral vision and your eyes flick over to Billy. He grins at you, sitting back in the booth, and taking a sip from his drink. He was enjoying this.

“Stalking? You’re fucking with me, right?” His rant is cut short by the return of the waitress who hands you your drink and places the food the boys had ordered onto the table, completely oblivious to your discomfort. She leaves and Stu grabs a fry from his plate, chewing loudly. “We’re not fucking stalking you - trust me, there are better ways to spend our time.”

Billy throws his balled up straw wrapper at Stu, catching his attention, and you let out a soft sigh of relief when Stu’s demeanor changes. He was back to smiling and laughing as if he hadn’t just been attempting to tear you to shreds. “Sorry about that… I’m pretty tired, that’s all.” Stu says, playing with his fingers.

“S’okay, I guess.”

“Why don’t you let us take you on a date? You know, as an apology?” Billy chimes in and Stu grins, nodding. A large part of yourself was screaming no. There was something off about these boys, something dark just under the surface, but you were intrigued. And so you smile.

“Yeah, I guess you two can do that.”

Billy had his arms wrapped around you, laughing at the excuses Stu was stammering out. He was obviously getting frustrated at the memory and you opened your arms to let him join in on the cuddling.

“You know, I really am glad we stuck together. I don’t know what I’d do if it were for our nightly cuddle sessions,” You say, your words muffled by Stu’s sweater. He pulls back and gives you a kiss, Billy swooping in to take one from him as well.

“Yeah, I don’t know what I’d do without our fuck sessions,” Stu hums and you groan, punching him in the shoulder. What a way to ruin the moment. “Wait, let’s not act like you were a saint in all of this! I remember you being pretty awful at one point.”

“What?! No way!”

Billy nods, tickling your sides for a second. “Sure were, babe.”

Two months into the relationship was your breaking point. You really did like, if not love, the boys and yet you were still an outsider. Walking into the shared apartment just for their whispered conversations to stop. Late nights spent in the living room with hushed voices while you tried to sleep. You felt as though you only knew a portion of the two people you had come to like; no, love.

You admit it was petty. It wasn’t the right thing to do in any circumstance, but you did it because you knew it would get a reaction. You had packed a bag and sat in the living room. You wanted them to see you leave. Wanted them to see how much their secrecy had taken. You had been together only a short while and yet you felt so at home with them that the idea of actually leaving, of breaking it off, nearly tore you apart.

The door opens and in enters Billy and Stu, wrapped up in their own conversation. Stu waves at you, carrying on before realizing what he had just seen. “Babe? What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.” Your voice was confident, not a waver in sight, and you knew it was because you weren’t planning on leaving. Some would call it manipulation, sure, but you were backed into a corner. Stu’s mouth drops open and Billy stares at you, his eyes narrowed.

“What? What do you mean you’re leaving? What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Stu rushes to sit down next to you on the couch, not wanting to accept the idea that you were leaving them on your own volition. His arms wrap around yours and you shove him off. “Babe?”

You shake your head, standing from your spot on the couch, grabbing ahold of the bag. Billy was still standing near the door, his arms crossed, watching you. “Don’t call me that. The two of you… It’s like I’m not even in this relationship. I’m an outsider with the two people I love and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”

“Where the hell is this coming from?” Billy questions, grabbing ahold of your arm when you try to walk past him. His voice is thick and you could see the vein in his forehead throbbing. He was angry and you hate to admit it but that’s exactly what you were hoping for.

For the next two hours the three of you talk about your relationship and the future of it. Stu cried, you cried, Billy sniffled a few times, and then you came to an agreement. No more secrets. They told you things that they hadn't told anyone before that they hid behind a vague threat of ‘once you hear this you’re stuck with us,’ and you told them things you had planned on taking to your grave. To say you weren’t shocked at what they told you would be a lie.

Murder wasn’t what you thought they were capable of and especially not murder so gruesome. But, oddly, you felt better about being with them. They trusted you, loved you, enough to let you know their biggest and darkest secret. And you loved it.

Knowing they wouldn’t hesitate to kill for you was a major turn on, which they soon found out.

“Wow, I really was kind of horrible, wasn’t I.” You mutter as Billy recounts the memory with a few interruptions by Stu. You didn’t remember it that way but the more they talked the more you could tell they were being honest. “Well, good thing we stuck together, hm? Would have been pretty bad if we hadn’t.”

“Yeah because we would have killed you,” Billy whispers into your ear and you shiver. He’s telling the truth and that’s what makes the relationship the way it is; they choose to be with you, to keep you around, to love you. “Yeah, we would have given you a call a while ago,” Stu says, his finger making a slicing motion across your neck.

You roll your eyes not because you don’t believe them but because you do. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

666 notes · View notes

aggravatetheaxe · 3 years

Note

Hey! Saw your post and saw you said you were upsettie spaghetti so I wanted to cheer you up!

Slashers who stop everything they’re doing because their “My S/O needs me” senses are tingling and go to their rescue to comfort their angry s/o?

I was hoping to come up with A way for you to get your emotions out through your writing- 😅

Hope you feel better! 🖤

I've never done a post in this style before so hopefully I do okay! I think I covered pretty much all the slashers I write for so far (I didn't do Billy Lenz because I still need to read the novelization). I may have gone way overboard, so if I do these in the future, I'll probably just pick a few instead of doing the whole roster 😅 (or you can pick for me). But doing this much work did distract me!

Above the cut:

Bo Sinclair

Vincent Sinclair

Lester Sinclair

Included below the cut:

Michael Myers (OG)

Jason Voorhees

Leslie Vernon

Thomas Hewitt

Bubba Sawyer

Brahms Heelshire

Erik ("The Phantom")

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Courtney Dwayne Delmont (OC slasher)

Kathleen Montgomery (OC slasher)

Masterlist

***

Bo Sinclair

Despite being autistic, Bo is very in tune with peoples auras and body language. He has to be to manipulate and deceive people with any modicum of success. He's trained himself when it comes to these things; even besides masking or manipulation, he needed to be keenly aware of when his parents were in Bad Moods so he could either avoid them or prepare himself.

The mood he's probably best at when it comes to this, for those reasons, is anger. He can smell anger a mile away. So if you're fuming, you better believe he notices.

At first he's annoyed and will demand to know what your problem is. He's not a very tolerant person, and he can be a bit of a hypocrite. He's allowed to have big, messy feelings, but when it comes to others having big, messy feelings ... he's not so comfortable with that. He gets overwhelmed.

Once he realizes that this is more than an attitude problem, he'll take it much more seriously. And assuming you're not mad at him, he'll want the rundown on the whole situation from beginning to end. He wants all the dirt.

He'll let you rant, and honestly, he'd think you being this angry (when it's not directed at him, but even still sometimes) is kind of sexy. And don't expect him to shut his mouth, either; he'll be ranting right along with you, affirming you and insulting whomever/whatever you're angry about.

He doesn't wanna cuddle. He genuinely thinks you can't cuddle anger away. He'll put on some loud-ass music and let you vent your frustration however you prefer. Maybe suggest a long drive down to the lake or into town or just ... picking a direction and going. He has fantasies of running away from his anger sometimes. He knows how it is.

Depending on what you're angry about, it could definitely get to the point where he's angrier about the situation than you are. And if it really hurt you, he will not let it go as long as he lives. The best he will ever do is maintain a grudging neutrality or distance from the person/situation that made you angry.

He's very protective. If you're angry at someone you need to maintain a relationship with, you're going to have to keep an eye on Bo to make sure he doesn't deliver revenge for you behind your back. If it's something he can solve, he'll do it, so if you don't want him running his mouth, watch him.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent is in the same boat as Bo when it comes to sensing auras, though his handle on body language and facial expressions is not as keenly honed. While Vincent was not physically abused as brutally or as often as Bo, this wasn't because of some sterling quality he had that Bo lacked. He was always The Good One because he saw what his parents did to The Bad One and knew he needed to protect himself. He tried not to do anything that might provoke his parents.

You can feel anger before a fight like you smell ozone before a storm. Vincent is attuned to the feeling not just because of his parents but because of Bo's temper, too. Because of this, like Bo, he can very accurately sense anger in particular.

His initial reaction is to observe you, gauging if you need time to cool off. If you need space, Vincent is the Sinclair for you. He's used to being quiet and deflecting and riding out anger.

However, once he realizes that your anger is not directed at him or isn't explosive enough to become a problem for him, he's concerned. Rather than asking what happened, he will ask if you're okay, and leave it up to you whether you'll tell him about it or not.

If you vent, he'll sit and listen patiently, maybe even thoughtfully working on a sculpture while you rant. He's not judgemental and he can be very emotional himself, so you could say the most ridiculous, dramatic things and he wouldn't even bat an eye. Let out all your messy, destructive thoughts and feelings. Just try not to throw or punch anything; that's when he shuts down.

If you decide you just want comfort, or decide you need comfort after ranting, art is his first suggestion. It may seem cold to you at first, that his instinct isn't to hold you or kiss you but rather to redirect you to a project - once you got to know him, however, you'd know that's his most genuine way to show he cares. Redirecting to something creative calms him down more than platitudes ever could, and he wants that for you. He's nonjudgmental about the art you create as well, even if it's objectively terrible. It's not about the quality.

He won't turn you down if you need physical affection, however. His twin is extremely tactile, so it wouldn't be the first time he held someone after a breakdown. He prefers to do this if he's certain you won't lash out physically, but if you were in a really bad way and needed to be touched, he'd do it regardless.

Lester Sinclair

Lester witnessed his parents' anger, but it was usually indirectly; if Bo was the Bad One and Vincent was the Good One, he was the Overlooked One. He's not a perfect person, probably not even a good person, but of the three brothers, he's the most normally socialized. He isn't trained to be tuned into everyone's every shifting mood in order to survive.

It takes Lester a little longer to pick up on your anger than his brothers, but not too much longer. It takes him a couple tries at trying to talk to you or get your attention before he realizes something is really wrong.

His first reaction is to get upset. He soaks up emotions like a little sponge, so he's suddenly cranky, too. He also jumps to conclusions and assumes that you're angry with him, and he does not take rejection well. He might be bitter and passive aggressive. You being angry just makes him want to go in another room and not be around you, and yet at the same time, he wants your reassurances. It's messy and sad.

Once he realizes - either through observing you or through you communicating with him - that you're mad at another person or situation, then he'll feel comfortable enough to approach you and ask you about it. You'll definitely need to reassure him that you're not mad at him though.

If you wanna rant, he'll take you on a long drive and let you vent your heart out to him. He won't be quite as aggressive as Bo, but he'll be on your side, frowning with disapproval, telling you "Ya can't fix stupid." If you want only comfort or need comfort after venting, he feels much more equipped for that. He'll put something relaxing in the VHS or let you play his old Super Nintendo, get you a beer, just let you chill out. And he'll let you win at Doctor Mario.

If the situation is something really serious, you best believe he'll be talking to his brothers about it the second he gets a chance. He may be a sweet guy, but he can be real nasty, and he doesn't fuck around when it comes to you. You might have to keep an eye out to make sure he doesn't tell someone off or punch out someone's lights.

Michael Myers (OG)

In 1978, Michael is not very in tune with any emotions besides fear, and even then he only really understands it in an abstract way, as his condition and upbringing haven't really been conducive to him learning about emotions. Unless you're screaming in terror, have tears running down your face, or are shouting angrily, he really can't read your moods. Without any obvious change to how you normally act or look, there's a huge chance he might just not notice if you're angry. He spends a lot of time in his own little world.

In 2018, even though he's spent over 50 years institutionalized, Michael has had time to take in the world, and he's seen a lot more. He understands fear much more than he did when he was 21, but what he understands most of all is anger. His anger fuels him. He would pick up on yours right away and be curious, though he wouldn't verbalize it.

If you tell him how you feel, he'll take note of it. If he witnesses you doing something destructive because of your anger, he'll simply observe. He would be fascinated with this thing you're doing, because it's not something you normally do, and though he might not notice emotions, he certainly notices routine and pattern. Either way, you'll have to tell him how you feel, because he'll simply watch you otherwise.

One thing that can be said for Michael is that he's a good listener. He may not internalize everything you say, but he will remember what he thinks is important. You may be surprised; he may remember tiny little details that seem inconsequential to you but loom large in his mind.

Unless you were caused serious physical or mental harm, he would not be angry on your behalf. He would, however, do nothing to assuage your anger. He thinks it would be kinda neat and interesting to see you snap. He's not 100% sure why you don't just do it.

In 1978, he won't be much help beyond listening to you, but he would be curious to see what you do to vent your anger. You may find him by your side more often, observing you. He may also want to find and observe the object of your anger, especially if it's a person. In 2018, he would, in his own way, suggest you solve the problem by murdering someone/something. He's insatiable, but killing is the closest he's ever come to satisfaction. You should try it.

Jason Voorhees

Out of all of the slashers, Jason is the most likely to actually literally sense your anger, especially if you're psychically sensitive/powerful like Tina Shepard. I'm talkin'—assuming you have a pre-established relationship—he'll be doing something else and just get this itch that tells him you're out there somewhere, pissed off.

Obviously this is untenable. As long as he's not super busy or Pamela has other plans, Jason will stomp his way through the woods to get back to you, regardless of the urgency of your anger. If Pamela doesn't approve, well, he'll let a little anger go and assume you're okay. If he suspects you may be in danger, though, he's sprinting regardless of what Mom says. There's time for both things, Ma!

The first thing he'll do when he returns to you is scan your dwelling, then you, making sure nothing is broken. At that point, you'd probably be able to sense his confusion even without him signing. Jason doesn't experience emotions quite like a human anymore, and he's quite tactile besides, so a lack of tangible or visible clues as to why you're upset would trip him up for a second.

He doesn't want to comfort you at first, he wants to know what's wrong. He'll listen to you vent only long enough to understand the situation and identify his target. His immediate next move would be to eliminate the problem. You'll definitely have to hold him back, and it may take a bit of convincing. Earthly consequences don't really apply to him.

Before comfort comes blowing off steam, for you and for him. His first choices would be mangling some trees (you can pretend it's for firewood) or skipping/throwing stones into the lake. You're welcome to join him if those things calm you down; watching him get his stone to skip like 11 times on Crystal Lake may make you feel better, at least.

You might hang out there for hours before he suddenly decides it's time to go home. He'll do what he can to make your comfortable or stay out of your way while you make yourself comfortable, then comfort you as you please. His go-to choice is always foot or hand massages.

Leslie Vernon

Leslie is extremely observant and surprisingly analytical given how silly he is in the day to day. His intuition makes it pretty easy for him to read people, but especially you, since you two are so close. Especially-especially if you're his Survivor Girl (gender neutral term of course). You two are in sync, so he knows if something's up. Maybe even before you fully figure it out.

God, you're so hot when you're angry, you really are. He almost wants to let you scream and holler and go nuts. But he prefers you only get angry like that at him, especially if you're his Survivor Girl, so his first move is to comfort you or talk you down to a place where you can be comforted. He'll speak to you calmly and rationally, reassuring you and touching you if you wanna be touched—on your upper arms or shoulders or face, or with one arm around your back.

He doesn't just want to comfort you, though, he wants to calm you down enough that you can tell him what happened. Even if you claim you don't want to talk about it, he will coax it out of you eventually. He's gotta know what got you so upset. It's his business to know everything about you!

Assuming you're angry at someone/something that isn't him, he'll talk it through with you. If you're upset about an argument with someone, he has the capacity to see it from the other side, but ultimately, he's there for you. He'll let you bitch as much as you want, still touching you, and he'll be disgusted and/or disappointed with the situation.

Above all, though, what he wants is to see you smile again. The only worries on your mind should be the ones he comes up with, and man, he's not even halfway done grooming the next batch of unlucky teenagers. He'd pat your face or touch your hair and tell you to cheer up, and probably defuse the situation with a stupid quip or joke. Take you out somewhere fun, maybe.

Once you were cheered up, he'd humbly suggest you solve your problem with a little murder. "I mean, I know killing's not really your thing—you're really good at it, though, a talent! You know that..." Pause, considering you. "You want me to do it? 'Cause I can clear my schedule for the rest of the night." If you decline, he'd be like "Suit yourself" but may or may not still murder whoever upset you. If you agree, he'd be super excited to make a romantic night of it. His mind would be going a million miles an hour planning everything out.

Thomas Hewitt

Tommy knows anger when he sees it. Not only does he have loads of internalized anger, he's been on the receiving end of it plenty. He's far too large to be scared of anyone in a physical sense anymore, but he's been shouted at countless times. To know when to shut up and do as he's told versus arguing back, he's learned to gauge intensity and direction of anger, and he well knows that anger can be redirected to him.

So, he instantly recognizes your mood, but it might be a while before he approaches you. When he does approach, he'll let you decide what to do, whether that's throwing your arms around him or banging your fists on his chest to vent your anger. You won't hurt him.

Eventually, once you're all hugged or cried or screamed out, he'll wrap his arms around you and give you a reassuring squeeze. There's no need to tell Tommy what's wrong—he won't ask unless you're obviously in serious distress or injured—but if you decide to speak, he'll listen, brows drawn tightly the whole time. He's thoughtful about the situation.

If you're mad at someone in his family, there isn't much he can do for you besides comfort you and assure you that whoever upset you—Hoyt, probably—didn't mean what they said. If you were hurt physically, it would be another story, but his family gets in shouting matches all the time.

Rather than offering help, he'd wait for you to request it of him. Whatever you ask, shy of hurting his family, he will do. Murder someone? No problem. Make you some food? You got it. Bring you a blanket? Sure. Give you some quiet alone time? That's fine, too.

If you need to vent, he's got plenty of ways to get out your frustration. Plenty of farm work to do, or you could work on something around the house with him. He might suggest knitting or sewing or some other handicraft you enjoy. It always makes him feel better to buckle down and use his hands for something.

If you're still preoccupied/upset by the time you two bed down, or heaven forbid the next morning, then he starts taking it more seriously. Something that disturbs you for that long is bad news. He'll watch you carefully the next couple days to see how you're doing, waiting for you to need him for something.

Bubba Sawyer

Like Tommy, Bubba has been on the receiving end of anger many, many times, so he's familiar with what it looks and feels like. Despite his size, he's still susceptible to physical violence at the hands of his loved ones, so he's very wary of anger.

However, he doesn't have a female presence in his life like Luda Mae, who expresses her anger through passive aggression—so, he's more used to shouting and screaming. If you aren't prone to screaming and shouting, it might take a little bit for him to realize you're not just sad or upset, you're angry.

Bubba will be over you. He'd give anyone else their space because he'd be afraid of retaliation, but you're his special person, and he's pretty sure you're not going to hurt him. He'll touch your hair, your arms, your wrists; he'll babble as he tries to figure out what's wrong. He just wants to comfort you and let you know everything is all right.

If it's too much or you're overwhelmed and you snap at him, he'll ease back. He'll blubber like a kicked puppy, but he won't give up. He'll still try to comfort you, just in other ways, such as getting you a comfort item or article of clothing, or maybe some food. And boy will he helicopter.

There's no need to tell Bubba what's wrong. In fact, it might be better if you didn't; if it's something he can't fix, it would do nothing but majorly stress him out. If it was one of his family members who upset you, as with Tommy, he wouldn't be able to do much. Even if you were hurt, he's just not in a position to stand up for you. That fact would absolutely kill him, though. He'd end up getting even more upset than you.

He doesn't know what help to offer you beyond comfort, but like Tommy, if you requested something specific, he'd try to carry out your wishes. He'll also try to cheer you up with some music and dancing, or just being silly like you like.

Need to blow off steam? He's got plenty of coping mechanisms! Bubba's idea of a perfect de-stress session is turning up the radio and getting lost in crafts. He's got lots of supplies, mostly to create clothing and accessories, and you're special, so you can have your pick. A drive and the radio might be nice, too. If neither of those appeal to you, he'll try cooking or baking with you. He loves sharing the kitchen with someone.

If none of that works and you're still upset, be prepared, because he's gonna be an anxious mess until you're better.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms is somewhat familiar with other people's anger. He certainly has a whole fountain of internalized anger brewing just beneath the surface, but that's different. He knows that when Mummy is angry, she yells and cries, and when Daddy is angry, he seethes and stews. The former would be obvious to him, but the latter would take him a few minutes to be quite sure about. You're not acting how you usually do. Are you being stern or are you angry? Are you cross with him?

He does not have a lot of empathy for other people, so if your anger gets in the way of his routine or the attention he wants, he'll be irked, cranky, sad. Not necessarily at you—though that is possible—but the situation in which you find yourselves.

Much like Bo, he's allowed to have big, messy feelings, but it makes him uncomfortable and scared when other people have those feelings. He might even hide from you for a while, especially if you screamed and cried.

Once he realizes something is really wrong and you're not mad at him, however, he'll start thinking of ways to cheer you up so things can go back to normal. He hates having his routine interrupted; he's very particular. And he cares for you, so seeing you in distress is very scary and uncomfortable for him.

He'll start by fetching you something you like—something manageable for him like your favorite juice or a sandwich, or if you have a special item or article of clothing, that. He's quite shy, though, and like I said, he'll probably be hiding, so he'll leave it somewhere he knows you'll find it (on the bed, outside your door, on your desk, etc.)

If that doesn't calm you down and your anger is really getting in the way of his routine, or otherwise making him uncomfortable, he'll finally make an appearance. Very bashful and timid at first, using his little boy voice. "What's wrong, Y/N? Did something bad happen?"

If it's something that can't be helped, he'll suggest you do something together to take your mind off it (most likely something he likes to do). He may even be coaxed into taking a walk around the grounds, though he doesn't like to leave the manor at all, so you'd have to convince him. He prefers quiet playtime, maybe some coloring books or loud music to vent your emotions. It would intrigue him to see someone else use his toys to calm down. As long as you recognized he was being very nice, sharing them.

If it was an argument you had with someone, he would want more information. Are they likely to leave you alone, or will they come to the manor? Will he have to deal with them? Because it's scary, but he'll do it for you.

If, for some reason, none of those things work, he may cry or throw a fit. Either way, he'll be frustrated. Adult Brahms may make an appearance and try to help you in more Adult ways.

Erik

Though he lives five cellars beneath an opera house now, Erik hasn't always been entirely reclusive. Even these days, when he can stomach it, he sometimes goes out to see the world. As a younger man, he observed people's lives and moods with a hungry fascination (that has now mostly been replaced by melancholy and longing and bitter anger). Like several of the other slashers here, he's had to train himself to sense fury to protect himself. He's also incredibly wrathful, so you could call him an expert!

He has a very keenly honed sense when it comes to you specifically, since he's watched you so much. He notices the change in your demeanor immediately.

If you know him as the "Angel of Music," his voice will appear to you once you're alone, asking you what's wrong and assuring you you can confide in him—he will insist you tell him, though. "There are to be no secrets between us, Y/N." He will listen without interjection as you vent your heart out, and when you're done, soothe you. Don't let his calming voice deceive you, though; behind that mirror, he's seething, planning to take matters into his own hands.

If you know him as Erik, he will go to you the second he recognizes the shift in your mood and take you from what you're doing, regardless of your wishes. He'll sit you down, kneeling before you with your hands in his, and gaze into your eyes, imploring you to tell him what's wrong. He'll absolutely allow you physical comfort, but he will also absolutely insist you tell. He'll need reassurance that you're not angry at him, because that thought would break his heart.

He will let you vent however you wish. You could have the most dramatic breakdown ever—throwing things, beating your fists on his chest, wailing—and he wouldn't judge you. He would be awfully concerned, though.

Will be 110% on your side. You are his poor little meow meow. "My poor love, my poor Y/N!" He is beside himself with sympathy for you and you only, and is very offended on your behalf.

He will always suggest music as an outlet for your anger, but he will have taken note of your other hobbies and interests as well. He'll fetch your things for you without being asked, as long as it won't separate him from you for very long. If you'd rather just have comfort, that's fine, too. He could hold your hand and caress your face for hours on end under normal circumstances, so no problem there. He may also suggest a little time on the surface, if you normally live in his home. Fresh air will do you both good, he reasons, and he enjoys spending time with you where others can witness it. It fills him with pride and love.

Otherwise, he's at your service for any other soothing activities you need. A calming bath, some sweets, shopping, anything. Perhaps avoid asking for any sexual contact, however. First of all, being asked directly makes him very skittish and nervous; second of all, his method of love-making (when you can coax him) is very intimate and tender, which may be tedious if you're in an angry mood.

Unless the situation is extremely serious or dire, his first priority is making sure you're soothed. Once that duty is fulfilled, however, he is absolutely angrier about it than you are. If it's not that serious, he won't skip straight to killing, if only because he knows it upsets you. He will definitely be writing an extremely strongly worded letter, however. If someone slighted you seriously, they're getting threatened. If someone hurt you physically, they're meeting the Punjab lasso.

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Deacon definitely knows when people are angry. His step-mom was a passive-aggressive laundry-folder and his dad was a storming out of the house kinda guy; when the two of them were together, they were all hushed but heated arguments at night when they thought he couldn't hear them, or else extremely embarrassing passive-aggressive arguments in public. Growing up, he found himself around a lot of angry people. And there's no shortage of anger in him, either.

So yeah, Deacon knows when people are pissed, and he knows when people are pissed at him. The thing is, he just thinks it's fucking hilarious. He was that kid that would goad peers and teachers just to be an asshole and had virtually no friends as a result. He's a menace on the internet, too: a horrible troll for no reason, stirring the pot even when he doesn't have a stake in the argument. He's trained himself to find people's weak spots so he can strike at them. He does it to make himself feel more in control of his life and his own anger.

So when you're ticked off, he's gonna notice the change immediately. If you made a vent post on social media, he probably knows you're angry before you even see him. He follows all your social media (even if you don't realize it) and checks it constantly. He'd call you out of curiosity to ask what happened. He's open about his stalking tendencies: "I saw your post, babe, who do I need to stab?"

If you otherwise come home angry, he'll be up on his feet, following you around the house and pestering you, trying to get you to tell him what's wrong. If you try to hug him, he won't push you away, but he'll be distracted, trying to needle answers out of you the whole time.

There's no question in his mind as to whether or not you're angry at him. He just assumes you're not; he has a pretty good handle on how you act when you're angry at him specifically.

He'll let you rant all day if you want. You could talk about the shit that's pissed you off for hours and he'd still listen. Outwardly, he might poke you a bit and play devil's advocate for the other side of the argument, if there is one. This is purely for the purposes of being a little shit.

Internally, he's already going down his pre-murder checklist. If it was someone at work, they're dead. Someone in the neighborhood, dead. Online? It'll take a couple days, but they're dead. Even if you're not angry at anyone in particular, just a situation, he'll find someone to menace. He'd walk through fire for your approval.

He's not good with soft, emotional comfort, so instead he'll try to think of something to help you let off steam. His go-to is something competitive, especially if it involves you chasing each other. A Nerf or water gun war, a PVP game with you on opposite sides. He'll put up a good fight, but you always kick his ass.

Once the immediate situation is addressed and you've ranted your heart out to him, he can't keep his hands off you. "Seeing you all pissed off drives me crazyyyyyy." He's grinning, brown eyes sparkling. "Come onnnnn ... I'll get it off your mind!"

Courtney Dwayne Delmont (OC)

Courtney is a hunter of all manner of game, so he's used to interpreting non-verbal cues and body language—when an animal is in distress, when an animal is about to attack, etc. His grandfather was a very angry man, as well, in a simmering sort of way. He would seethe about something before suddenly delivering one decisive strike. Courtney himself is not a particularly angry man, unless some prey is really giving him a hard time, but he can read your body.

If you come home angry, he'll stop in the middle of what he's doing and watch you, still and quiet, just confirming his suspicions. If you leave the room he's in to go collapse on the sofa or something, he'll follow you, looming over you and waiting for you to tell him what's wrong. He's patient.

If you want to vent, he'll sit and listen thoughtfully, doing something with his hands while you speak—probably cleaning his gun or some other weapon. He doesn't look at you. He wouldn't demand greater context to the situation but he would ask "Why?" and "Who?" until he understood Enough.

If you want comfort, he'll sprawl on the couch and let you lay on top of him. He'll probably pull a blanket on top of you to try and encourage a nap. If the nap doesn't make you feel better, he's feeding you protein. Do you like homemade jerky?

Sex is also on the table (not literally ... unless). He's found it's a great way to blow off steam, and he's more than happy to make all worries, troubles, and other thoughts go away for a little bit. Expect that to be the rest of your night, though, because he doesn't do quickies.

Generally, he trusts you to handle your own shit, so he would be more focused on you than whatever made you feel the way you do. However, if days passed and you were still angry/upset/sad, or if it plunged you into a breakdown or was an otherwise extremely serious situation ... just give him a target. It's up to you, but if you tell him to take the shot, it'll be quick and clean. If you're unable to make the decision, he'll decide for you without hesitation.

Kathleen Montgomery (OC)

I'm still developing her so this one won't be as in-depth and is subject to change.

Kath makes it her business to know everything about you. Chances are she's seen you explode screaming while stalking you ... chances are, if you've been in a relationship for a while, she's made you explode screaming. She knows what you look like when you're angry. Besides, she's strong for her size, but she often has to take down people who are much bigger and stronger than her; she uses manipulation and trickery to help ease that divide, so she's good at reading people.

Like Deacon, she also monitors all your social media, so if you made a vent post, she already knows you're in a shitty mood before you come home. Unlike Deacon, she doesn't tell you how she knows, so you're left to assume she's just all knowing. Considering her god complex, that works for her.

She'd probably text you to come home, and she expects you to answer. If you're unable to come home, she'll call you to ask what's wrong.

Once you're together, she wants to know everything about the situation. Even as you're speaking, she's already on her phone or laptop, looking up the people involved. Instead of getting mad on your behalf, she laughs. She's a fan of emphasizing how pathetic or weak the opposition is.

She takes your feelings on the subject seriously, but everyone else in the situation? Insects. Not even worthy of your time or concern, let alone hers. You're obviously in the right here (even if you're not). She'll tell you as much, and say some pretty intense, over-the-line things about whomever/whatever you're angry at.

Overall, however, she's calm and collected about the situation. Your bout of anger is a chance to get you to be reckless with her. She'll do your hair and makeup and dress you up nice, then take you out. Fast driving, drinking, baiting people at bars, menacing neighborhoods ... maybe a little killing, if you'd like.

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Masterlist

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