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flowerandblood · 3 months

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The Knight & The Judge

[ modern Frollo • Aemond x Esmeralda • female ]

[ warnings: dubcon, sex content, smut, angst, domination and humiliation kink, description of physical and mental disabilities, prejudices against disabled people, aggressive behavior, violence, swearing, trauma, mention of an accident with fatalities ]

[ description: After a car accident, his brother has to deal with the consequences of what happened, and he, as his protector, does not know how to help him. His sister comes up with the idea of hiring someone as his carer who will be able to cheer him up and occupy his mind. It turns out, however, that the girl he hired charmed not only his younger brother. Obsession, self-destructive behavior, verbal and physical aggression, sexual tension, dark, malicious Aemond. ]

Author's note: This story is a request, but I decided to freely use what I liked in the book and Disney film to create a new, disturbing story taking place in modern times. It is intended to be uncomfortable and will contain scenes that are at least morally questionable, in my version "Esmeralda" is not Romanian. This story will also include motifs from Jane Eyre, which was a separate request. My story will also touch on the problems of people with disabilities, so if these are sensitive topics for you, I advise against reading further. You have been warned.

Part 2 − The Sin & The Penance

Part 3 − The Doubt & The Delight

Epilogue

Main Characters Moodboard

Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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On that day it seemed to him that the whole world had turned against him. His coffee machine had broken down, there was more traffic than usual on the roads, he was sure he would be late for work, and his brother had woken up in a mood worse than always and cried all the way to the centre.

"I don't want to go there. I-I'm scared of some of those kids." He muttered under his breath, swallowing loudly, whooping with tears. He looked at him in the mirror, feeling a squeeze in his throat every morning when he left him there, but saw no other alternative.

He still hadn't recovered mentally after what had happened five years ago and, according to his psychiatrist, he wasn't ready to attend a normal school until he gained more confidence.

He did not want to force him to listen to unpleasant comments, however, he felt uncomfortable himself.

The centre was huge, classes were taught in different groups of matched children, however, there were times when Daeron encountered kids with a spectrum of disabilities other than physical and was simply afraid of them.

He tried to explain it to him, but how was a child supposed to understand these complicated, sometimes even uncontrollable behaviours and screams?

He swallowed hard, leaning the back of his head against the backrest, turning on the right indicator with his hand, driving into the car park of the building where he would leave him for the time he spent at work, during which he studied and had various extra classes with children with problems similar to his.

However, was he to surround himself all his life only with children who had mobility problems, who had no arms or legs, who suffered from paresis or lack of feeling in their limbs?

Every time he thought about it he wanted to cry.

He turned off the engine, staring dully ahead, hearing his mother's screams again in the background of his mind as his father fainted behind the wheel and drove off the road into the other lane – he felt once again that hard crash with the big truck coming from the opposite direction that crushed them.

They were only alive because they were in the back seats at the time, Daeron, however, was not as lucky as he was.

Compared to what happened to his younger brother, the glass that smashed into the left side of his face was nothing.

"Mrs Thomson said you can't spend all day at home doing one-to-one tuition. You have to see other children." He calmly repeated the formula he said whenever such a situation arose, opening his door, heading for the boot of his big black SUV – the car dealership had told him it was the safest and biggest model they had.

He took out the small wheelchair that had been put together and unfolded it, driving it closer, to the back seat where his brother sat, opening it – he looked away, unable to watch his brother's weeping face.

"I'm already late for work. Please. I promise we'll play FIFA' 23 together when we get back. Hm?" He muttered, and Daeron nodded, pale, breathing loudly, using his hands to move slowly towards the wheelchair onto which he shifted the weight of his body, hissing loudly as he lifted his legs onto the special supports.

The bones of his little legs had been simply crushed then – he continued to grow, the rehabilitation was hard and caused him great pain.

He would have preferred it to be him who suffered like this and not an innocent child, but God, who he wasn't sure he still believed in despite the deep faith his mother had always instilled in him, decided otherwise.

He closed the car and moved with him to the main entrance, pushing his wheelchair forward. When they got inside they were greeted by a lady they knew very well, several of his friends waved to Daeron, one of them was paralysed from the waist down, the other was missing one arm.

He swallowed loudly, thinking that his brother had to watch someone else's misfortune every day, himself for sure feeling like a cripple, like someone defective, someone who was a burden, even though he loved him the most in the world.

The cruelty of the situation left him with a clenched throat, so he would usually only throw him a few words to say goodbye, stroke his head and leave, only by the car tightening his fingers on the base of his nose, his healthy eye burning from the moisture that gathered under his eyelids.

As he always did in moments of breakdown, he started the engine, selected the number of his sister phone on the display under his dashboard and, turning on loudspeaker mode, started backing his car as he tried to drive out of the car park and drove ahead towards the national prosecutor's office.

"Hello? Aemond, did something happen?"

He heard Helaena's soft, sleepy voice. He knew she was still doing overtime as a doctor, overworking herself as much as he was and thought that he had woken her up after the night shift.

He felt remorse for not being able to handle it himself, although she always reassured him that she would always help him as best she could.

She got Daeron the best possible physiotherapist so that he was even able to take a few steps in the last month while holding on to his supports, however it still caused him great pain, the doctors said his bones would continue to hurt as long as he grew.

Perpetual undeserved suffering.

"I don't know what to do anymore. He says he is afraid of some of the children, those with intellectual disabilities. I know it's cruel, but fuck, I'd be scared of some of them too. Do they have to see each other in the same building, pass each other in the corridor? Shouldn't they be separated somehow?"

"God, Aemond, they're not animals. After all, they're children too." She said with sadness and resentment – he clenched his eye, sighing impatiently, trying to focus on the road again, tense.

"I know. I know. I really feel for them, but it's bad for his psyche. He recently asked me if he was normal, if he too would start shouting and babbling like them. That sometimes they are aggressive and the carers have to drag them away from him and his friends."

"It's horrible. Maybe he really should go there less often?" She asked sighing quietly, he heard her rise up on the bed with a quiet creak of the mattress.

"And what, he's going to sit at home with some boring old teacher? How will I know that no harm comes to him in my absence?" He asked resignedly, hearing silence on the other side for some time.

"Maybe find someone who won't be very distant in age. Someone who won't just teach him, but play with him and spend time with him. Someone old enough to be responsible for him and at the same time young enough not to feel so distant. Someone joyful." She replied, and he rolled his eyes as he drove into the underground car park of his office building.

"Joyful? I am supposed to pay someone to be joyful?" He sneered, shaking his head, his sister sighed again.

"He needs it, Aemond. We're all tired, and he's a child."

He hung up after a few minutes of further discussion, telling her he had to go, grabbed the case folders he'd just brought in and headed for the underground lift. He pressed the button showing the floor he wanted to move to when a woman's hand stopped the sliding doors, which opened a moment later.

Alys smiled broadly at him as she stepped inside with a confident stride – her high black heels emphasised how slender and long her legs were, her fitted, waist high pencil trousers and black blazer with a beautiful white shirt underneath highlighted both her confidence and her attractiveness.

He remembered the last few times the thrusts of his hips had pushed her into her desk, bent over and helpless, with firm, wide buttocks on which he tightened his fingers as he panted heavily, watching what he was doing to her, rooting into her again and again, thinking with mockery and amusement how easy it was to make a mere whore out of such a proud woman.

"Good morning, Mr Prosecutor." She said softly, contentment and calmness on her face, several of their intense close-ups had clearly left an intense mark in her, not just physical.

She liked the violent and determined ones, he knew that – she hid her age well and apparently decided that this was the last moment in her life when she could reach for what she wanted.

"Good morning, Miss Rivers." He replied calmly, uninterested in her ambiguous look, apparently suggesting that she wouldn't mind if what happened between them was repeated a few more times.

He was all about the sex. He was frustrated in this aspect – his artificial eye, although perfectly colour-matched to the other and the still clearly visible scar from where the glass pierced in, were a source of his complexes and shame.

He knew that no matter how perfect a professional he was, it was his appearance that made the first impression.

He preferred them to fear him rather than pity him.

In the courtroom he still struggled to be taken seriously so much so that his cold, calculating, ruthless nature began to frighten some – his judgement and questioning was harsh and lacking in compassion.

He knew exactly what he wanted and strove to get it.

His superiors quickly appreciated how skilful a lawyer he was and his ability to bring cases to an end and push whoever he needed to, hence he quickly moved to the National Prosecutor's Office, where more responsibilities and more money awaited him, which he could spend on Daeron's rehabilitation.

As he sat over the files he thought hard about what his sister had told him and decided that he would install CCTV in the house and then hire someone on a trial basis to see if it made sense.

He put up an anonymous job ad not wanting anyone to recognise him, described briefly his broad expectations and his rate per hour.

It turned out that dozens of people responded to his ad, just as he suspected attracted by the sum he had quoted, but he didn't know how he was supposed to sort them to choose the ones that seemed best to him. He began to read their answers, figuring that already from them he could deduce what types of personalities they were.

I am interested. My phone number is below.

Reject, he thought, clicking the red button informing the message sender that his offer was not accepted, and began to scroll further.

I am a carer with 10 years of experience. I have already cared for 14-year-old Mike with cerebral palsy, Adam with….

Reject, he clicked again.

He had no intention of making his home a second centre for the disabled.

He felt frustration and rage when he found that most of the messages were similar and just as empty in their tone, nothing convinced him about these people.

He knew Daeron wouldn't want to stay with them, and neither would he.

He stopped at one of the messages that looked completely different and blinked.

Good morning! I saw your ad and thought I would speak up. I'm a student, I'm studying costume design at the Faculty of Fine Arts. I'm looking for a casual job and I really enjoy working with children, I teach dressmaking as part of the teaching section of my university classes. I think that helping your brother with his studies at primary school level would be no problem for me at all, and I would also be happy to come up with different extra-curricular activities with him. Even if you decide not to hire me, I would like to sew your brother a costume of his favourite super hero, without any payment of course. You would just have to give me his measurements. I don't think anything makes kids his age happier!!! My warmest regards and I am sending my email below.

He looked at her message not too sure how he felt, at the same time being impressed, on the other hand feeling the seed of uncertainty and extreme caution characteristic of him when it came to his approach to newly met people.

What if this was a psychological tactic to make him believe her to be innocent and unselfish? To make him subconsciously choose her because she was the only one offering him something for free? If it was just her free promotion?

He chose two people reluctantly, but kept coming back to her message, trying to imagine her, seeing some crazy painting student looking like a hippie.

Maybe this was just what he needed? He thought with regret and sighed heavily, opening a new window in his inbox, writing her a short, brief email to appear at their house in a few days' time.

He was going to interrogate her.

The young man before her immediately made him uneasy – he had the impression that he smelled weed from him even though he had taken a shower, so he must have been smoking like crazy, and he had no intention of letting anyone who might encourage him to use any stimulants look after his brother.

The other girl was very frightened – his questions clearly startled her and made her uncomfortable, it frustrated him that she was barely able to make a sound. He thought she had something to hide, that people who have a clear conscience don't behave this way.

He thought with resignation that all he had left was a mad artist.

He sighed heavily as he heard the bell ring suggesting that someone was standing outside the gate. He walked over to the intercom and opened it, seeing in the small monitor a petite girl with dark, slightly wavy hair tied up in a ponytail.

He thought in disbelief that she was dressed for a job interview in a white turtleneck, dungarees and trainers, a fabric floral back on her back.

What the fuck, he thought, opening her door with a cold, indifferent expression on his face.

"Good afternoon." She said softly, a wide smile on her face. Before she walked in she wiped her shoes on the doormat, which pleased him. When she came inside she wanted to take off her trainers – he looked at her surprised, thinking she must be crazy.

"No, you don't have to. You can stay in your shoes." He said lowly, pointing towards the armchair, indicating to her with his hand the seat on the couch next to him.

She sat down in the seat he showed her, looking boldly straight into his eyes, her cheeks rosy with emotion.

She was clearly a tad nervous after all, he thought, musing for a moment that she had incredibly long, dark eyelashes.

"Do you have experience in working with children?" He asked immediately; she blinked and corrected herself in her seat, as if prepared for the question.

"Only in terms of working with them in sewing workshops." She answered simply, without any further explanation, which pleased him.

She was letting him draw his own conclusions, rather than imposing them on him so as to present herself in the most favourable light.

"My brother has mobility problems. How do you imagine helping him, for example, if he needs to go to the bathroom?"

"I think he's old enough that he can tell me himself what he'll need help with and what he won't, and what he'll feel comfortable for me to help him with and when he'll want me to leave." She said without thinking, shrugging her shoulders as if it was obvious. He squinted, intrigued that she was allowing herself to say unthoughtful things in front of him, as if she wasn't afraid of the consequences they might bring.

"And your studies? How will you have so much time to come here?"

"From what I understand, I would be expected to turn up on Tuesdays and Thursdays from eight in the morning until sixteen. I have practice classes then, the costumes I'm sewing I can bring with me and finish them while he's eating or watching something, maybe he'll even like it and want to practice with me?"

"What will you do if I don't hire you?" He asked dryly and she looked at him surprised, a light smile on her face indicating that his words didn't worry her.

"Then I will continue to work in the café. But my words about the superhero costume stand. Even if I can't work for you, sir, I would like to meet him and give him something. Children can be so brave." She said softly with sincere, bright joy and some kind of pride, as if Daeron was her brother and not his, something in her innocence, something in her attitude endeared him.

He could smell a lie a mile away, she wouldn't be able to pretend so well even if she were an actress.

These reactions were natural, she was saying exactly what she was thinking about.

"I will contact you once I have made my decision." He said indifferently, getting up from his seat and pointing with his hand towards the exit, suggesting that their conversation was over.

She stood up and smiled, undaunted by his behaviour or the length of their conversation. Both of them flinched when Daeron appeared in the living room, pushing the wheels of his wheelchair with a light flick of his hand.

"Good afternoon. Who is this lady?" His younger brother asked him, obvious curiosity on his face. He swallowed loudly and glanced at her – she answered nothing but waved at him vigorously, Daeron smiled shyly and waved her back, embarrassed.

"No one. I needed to talk to her." He replied, opening the door for her. She said a polite goodbye to him and his brother, waving at him once more, Daeron waved her back again, looking at him with questioning eyes as he closed it.

"I like her. She seems fun."

With no other choice, he decided he would give her a chance.

The first day she was to be left alone with Daeron he was all nerves despite the fact that his little brother hadn't seemed this excited to him in many years. He told him about his toys and the cartoons he was going to show her.

"First the lessons. Then two hours to play and free time." He replied dryly, tense, glancing at his watch, thinking with rage that she only had fifteen minutes left, that she was sure to be late or not come and leave him in the lurch when he had already cancelled his presence at the centre's classes.

They both flinched when they heard the bell ring; Daeron said, moving briskly forward in his wheelchair that he wanted to open for her and indeed, after a moment the girl he had hired appeared on the doorstep of their house, smiling and content – her cheeks flushed again, her dark hair loose, pleasantly framing her bright face, on her body only a black top and tracksuit shorts as it was a sunny, warm spring morning.

"Good morning, Daeron, nice to meet you!" She said with fondness and satisfaction in her voice, extending her hand in front of her, which his brother shook confidently. Daeron moved ahead of her, glancing over his shoulder at her.

"Come, I'll show you my room. I'll explain everything to you." He said, rolling his wheelchair up to the door, which was located on the ground floor of their house so that he could move around easily. The girl nodded, pulling her trainers off her feet, saying that she will come to him in a minute.

He took the opportunity to walk up to her, towering over her, and she threw him a quick surprised look.

He thought her eyes seemed even bigger than before, he wasn't sure if they were blue or green, both colours blending into one.

"You are to take care of him. I want you to go through all the material that was prepared for today. Only two hours of free time, no more. Behave responsibly and only call if it's really urgent or if something happens to him." He said matter-of-factly, and she swallowed quietly, nodding quickly, clearly horrified by how close he stood and how cold his voice was.

Good, he thought.

He wanted her to be afraid of the consequences of her actions.

He sat in the office all day terrified, stressed and unsure, trying to focus on the file in front of him, while involuntarily still glancing at his phone, checking to see if she might have called him.

Was everything okay? What if something had happened but she was afraid to call him? Maybe he should go home and test her, see what was going on?

He thought he would go mad if he didn't, so he left work an hour early – Alys threw something at him as he walked past her, probably something about a meeting or an evening out together, but he didn't answer her, heading for the stairs and the underground car park.

He drove forward, trying to calm himself down, thinking about how oversensitive he was, that surely everything was fine.

He pulled up in front of their house hearing music in the distance, wondering if any of the neighbours were having a party outside at this hour.

However, as he pressed the key to the gate and it slowly swung open he saw in disbelief the girl he had hired riding with lightness and grace on roller skates in his driveway to the tune of the Scissor Sisters song Don't Feel Like Dancin. Daeron laughed out loud, spinning beside her in his wheelchair, both of them wearing elbow and knee pads, in addition to his little brother wearing a bike helmet on his head.

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He got out of the car, furiously slamming the door, his brother wheeled up to him briskly, his companion spinning slowly around them on roller skates – she raised her eyebrows with a smile, seeing the look on his face and waved at him.

"Look how well I dance, brother!" Exclaimed Daeron, spinning the wheels of his wheelchair around his own axis again.

He, however, instead of looking at him grabbed aggressively the arm of his carer who was doing another spin – she nearly fell over because of his tug and caught him abruptly by his jacket in an attempt to catch her balance.

"Ah!"

"What the fuck are you doing? Is this what I pay you for?" He growled and shook her hard. She stared at him with wide-open eyes, her lips slightly parted in accelerated breathing from fear, her face red from exertion, strands of her hair stuck to her cheeks.

"Let me go, sir. I will not speak to you like this." She said warningly, her brow furrowed. He pressed his lips together noticing that something had changed in her gaze, suddenly confident and angry, ready to fight if necessary.

He felt that look in his trousers, he'd never had the urge to slap a woman's ass as hard as hers before.

He glanced at his brother, who was looking at him in horror, only realising after a moment that the song had long since ended and there was a tense, awkward silence around them.

He let go of her arm, seeing with satisfaction that he had left a bruise on her skin in the shape of his fingers – she massaged at the spot, furrowing her brow.

"You're fired. You're irresponsible. Good thing I came back earlier." He said with mockery and fury, walking over to his brother, unbuckling the helmet he wore on his head. Daeron burst into a loud, uncontrollable sob.

"I don't want to. I don't want to, I don't want to go back there, I want to stay with her. It's my fault, I told her I wanted to dance, please, please, please, I want her to stay, I don't want to go back there." He babbled, running his hands over his shoulders in some helpless, childish pleading gesture from which he felt a squeeze in his throat. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, her gaze fixed on his little brother, sad and resigned – she was leaning over, untying the laces of the roller skates that had once belonged to his sister.

"Something could have happened to you. You could have fallen over and hit your head on the ground." He replied coldly, kneeling in front of him, unbuckling his knee pads.

"But I had a helmet on my head. After all, normal boys fall off bikes and stairs and they're fine! Nothing would have happened if I'd bruised myself a bit, I'm not made of glass!" He burst out suddenly with a fury he had never seen in him before, burying his little face in his hands, all red from tears and despair.

"I won't go back there, I won't go there tomorrow, if she doesn't stay, never, never again, I'd rather kill myself!" He whined out loud, falling into another attack of hysteria in recent months – he had trouble catching his breath, his lungs were wheezing all over. He took his face in his hands, but he closed his eyes, not wanting to look at him.

God, why?

"Remember what I told you?" She asked walking up to his brother in just her socks, kneeling beside him, grasping his hand. Daeron immediately fell silent, looking at her with wide eyes.

"That boy who calls you Quasimodo is just mean. You are my Phoebus, you have his beautiful hair, humour and valour. I'll sew us costumes and we'll go to the carnival ball together. His jaw will drop when he sees that you came with your Esmeralda. What do you say?" She asked softly, and he looked at her in disbelief, wondering if that was the reason his little brother didn't want to go there.

That boy who calls you Quasimodo.

He felt a twitch in his throat and swallowed loudly, his brother nodding quickly, drawing in air loudly, his eyes full of hope.

"Promise?" He asked in a trembling voice, and she smiled broadly, sincerely, squeezing his small hand.

"Promise."

They entered their house as his brother calmed down; he told Daeron to go to his room and leave them alone, which his brother eventually did with great reluctance, crying for a while longer, not wanting to say goodbye to her.

As soon as he heard the door close behind him at the end of the corridor he slipped his wallet out of the back pocket of his trousers, took out a few banknotes and threw them on the table in front of her in a careless gesture.

"Get the fuck out of my house." He said coldly, looking her straight in the eye. He saw her lower lip twitch, the pain of humiliation in her gaze, her eyebrows arched in disbelief that such words had left his mouth.

He wasn't paying her to make a circus of herself dancing like some fucking Esmeralda, exposing his brother to danger and injury.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and trembled with rage as she took the money and tossed it in his direction, the banknotes flying scattered around his feet.

"You could dress up as Frollo for the carnival ball, sir. It would suit you." She said drily, turning away tensely – he moved behind her, feeling anger buzzing strongly in his veins at her words.

He grabbed her by the neck with an aggressive flick of his hand and slammed her back against the wall, her voice stuck in her throat in horror, her big, bright eyes open wide in disbelief.

He took a step closer to her, feeling her warm body quiver all over in his grasp, digging his fingertips deeper into her skin, finding with delight that she was obscenely soft.

"Do you have anything else to say?" He asked in a low whisper filled with threat – she shook her head quickly clearly feeling the situation was out of her control, obviously fearing if he was really going to do something to her.

"No, are you sure? I'm listening to you. Tell me something else interesting about me." He said softly, encouragingly, moving even closer to her, the tips of their noses almost touching.

He could finally get a good look at her and he found curiously that he still couldn't tell what colour her eyes were, now slightly reddened from tears of fear.

She shook her head quickly, not making a sound; all he could hear was their quickened, raspy breaths, her hand touched his wrist as if she wanted to make sure he didn't strangle her.

He was somehow delighted by how delicate, long and slender her fingers were, feeling a pleasant pulsing in his trousers at the thought.

"Look at you. So silly. Because you're a silly little girl, aren't you? You would benefit from someone teaching you a lesson. No? Then apologise and I'll let you go and pretend I never met you." He said calmly, her whole body quivering with terror.

"Never." She said quietly, and he felt involuntarily that his lips curved in a dangerous, satisfied grin, his fingers clenching tighter around her neck.

"You're asking for trouble, Esmeralda." He muttered lowly, her nostrils twitching in accelerated breath.

"I will report what you are doing to the police." She said dryly and he smiled even wider, feeling her tremble all over as he leaned over her ear, his nose sinking into her soft, flower-scented hair – he closed his eyes and savoured the experience for a moment before whispering something she froze from.

"I am a prosecutor −"

Her hand clenched tighter on his wrist, a moan of despair escaping her lips, as if what he had said had really shocked her, as if she was only now realising what she had gotten herself into.

"− and I've never lost a case yet." He whispered in her ear, sliding his face lower, to her jaw and then to her neck, pressing his full lips to her skin, leaving wet, hot marks on it. He heard her draw in a loud breath.

"− w-what are you doing, sir? − no −" She whimpered, he felt her lift her arms up in a defensive gesture, trying to pull away from him, but he pressed her against the wall with his body, letting go of her neck, his erection throbbing hard in his trousers, pressing again and again against her stomach.

She felt it, a terrified cry escaped her lips as his lips pressed tightly against her neck – he began to suck painfully hard on her skin, wanting to leave her a crimson reminder of himself.

"− how did you put it? − who do I remind you of? −" He asked tauntingly, running his rough tongue over her red skin, feeling the veins pulsing rapidly under her soft, warm skin.

"− I'm sorry − I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry − please, please let me go −" She mumbled out in despair on the verge of crying, her voice trembling all over in terror, her breathing raspy and uneven, her small hands clenched on the material of his black turtleneck that he wore under his jacket.

He gasped at her words, sliding his mouth lower, repeating the same process, rubbing against her with his hips – his cock was all swollen and hard, pulsing with pleasure, his hands roaming down her back, sliding at last to her buttocks where they clenched.

"− look at you − so you can be polite after all, hm? −" He asked softly, lowering the material of her tracksuit shorts a little, his large hand grasping her plump, firm buttocks and slapping it hard – she clamped her lips together, trying to hold back the whimper that squeezed its way down her throat.

"− that's what I thought − turn around and let's get this over with −" He murmured, soothingly massaging the place that was now pulsing from his slap, grinning as she did so wordlessly, tears of helplessness and fear on her cheeks.

"− please −" She muttered and he sighed softly, sliding the material of her shorts and underwear down, revealing what was underneath – she shuddered and wept quietly as the tips of his fingers ran over her swollen folds, focusing their pressure on her sweet spot hidden between them, digging into her fleshy skin in circular, calm motions.

"− shhh − this way it will be easier for both of us −" He explained in a soft tone of voice, as if he was telling her something obvious, as if it would benefit her in the future and teach her something.

He heard her shy moan full of fear, then another, a tad louder as his fingers sank more firmly into her skin. He licked his lips at the sight of the wetness that began to leak slowly from inside her and slapped his hand with a short, rough movement into the space between her thighs.

"− quiet −" He ordered, and she pressed her lips together, stifling whatever wanted to come out of them. Daeron was far away, locked in his room, but he still preferred him not to hear anything, and he didn't have the time or desire to take her upstairs to his bedroom.

This situation, her bent figure and her lovely buttocks pushed up towards him, suited him completely.

"− good girl − see? − it's not that hard −" He murmured pleased with how obedient she was despite the fear and terror from which her whole body was twitching. The confident movements of his fingers were accompanied by the louder and louder click of her moisture, her cheek pressed against the cold wall where her hands were helplessly trying to find support in this position, her eyes closed as if she just wanted to wait it out.

She opened them when she heard the sound of his zipper being opened – her lips pressed together with difficulty as he guided the fat, swollen head of his throbbing cock against her opening, leaning with his free hand against the wall just above her head, trying to force it between her tight folds with the motion of his hips.

"− wider − that's it, there you go −" He exhaled as she opened her thighs a little more and he spread her wide on his cock, feeling her muscles gave him a wonderful squeeze – he sighed loudly, surprised at how pleasurable the sensation was.

"− fuck −" He hissed out, clamping his hands on her buttocks, spreading them like a ripe fruit; she squirmed in discomfort as he forced her to take him deeper inside her, filling her so much that he felt like he was going to rip her skin apart.

"− barely fits −" He scoffed, moving his hips back and forth with a splat of her moisture dripping down her thighs – he heard her begin to pant along with him as he deliberately rubbed against her lower wall just above her very entrance, teasing the spot inside her from which her whole body was quivering.

"− here? − do you want me to fuck you here, little one? −" He gasped as he stretched her skin enough to fit all of him inside her, rooting into her again and again with increasingly brutal thrusts of his hips, digging his fingertips into her buttocks, looking at the spot where their bodies joined, at her muscles clenching against him greedily in panic, sucking him inside.

"− please −" She cried out, squeezing her eyes shut, her lips parted in disbelief at how pleasurable and terrifying the experience was. He sank his hand into her soft, dark hair and tilted her head back, burying his nose in the hot skin of her cheek, speeding up, stretching her weeping folds with a loud, lewd slaps of his thighs against her buttocks.

"− use full sentences −" He commanded, his other hand from her hip slid down between her thighs – she squirmed helplessly as his fingers sank again into her fleshy skin, sticky from her moisture, teasing her clit with circular, slow motions.

"− here − fuck me here, sir −" She mumbled with difficulty in a voice trembling with exertion, her cheeks all red, the beautiful curls of her dark hair clinging to her sweaty face – he felt with satisfaction that her hips began to respond to his eager thrusts.

"− good girl − that's my good girl −" He breathed out with a quiet groan of pleasure, seeing and feeling her walls squeeze his fat cock at his praise – he licked his lips thinking that Alys had never responded to him the way she did, so frightened and aroused at the same time, relying only on his mercy, his goodwill.

"− you understand that this is necessary, don't you? − that you need to be taught a lesson −" He muttered, feeling that he was losing his temper, thrusting into her so fast that he was barely slipping out of her, slamming into her again and again, his cock throbbing with desire, signalling to him that his peak was coming, her wonderful scent filling his lungs.

"− y-yes − yes, I'm sorry −" She mumbled out –he wasn't sure if she was saying what he wanted to hear or if she really believed it herself for a second, but she clamped her eyelids shut and spread her mouth wide, helpless, girlish, sweet moan of relief burst from her throat as she came, sucking and squeezing his cock, soaking it in her moisture. He sighed in relief when, after a few desperate, deep slaps he spilled inside her, feeling the wave of hot pleasure shake his body.

"− fuck − oh, God, little one −" He muttered, their bodies involuntarily moving for a moment longer, wanting to prolong this surprisingly shocking experience, both of them panting embarrassingly loudly, her body trembling all over – if his arm hadn't been holding her around the waist she would have fallen for sure, her legs completely numb.

He looked down at their joined bodies, his half-hard, throbbing manhood sinking into her again and again, all sticky from his semen and her wetness.

He swallowed loudly, sliding out of her slowly, realising now what he had actually done to her – he heard her quiet hiss of discomfort and sigh of relief, her face flushed from exertion and tears.

"− are you all right? −" He asked in a trembling voice, quickly zipping up his trousers, her shaking hands slipping her underwear and shorts back onto her buttocks.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled in embarrassment, horror and disbelief, not looking at him, in some automatic gesture reaching for her trainers, putting them quickly on her feet.

"Come back on Thursday as we agreed before." He muttered, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart and the panic rising inside him, a complete void in his mind.

What had he done?

"I can assure you that you will never see me again." She whispered in a trembling, broken voice, quickly put her backpack on her back and walked out, slamming the door, leaving him with complete silence, remorse and horror.

He pressed his forehead against the wall, hiding his face in his hands, and burst into tears like a small child.

How could he treat a strange, innocent girl like this?

What if she didn't take her pills, what if she got pregnant?

How could he have been so irresponsible?

What if she really does report it to the police?

I'll destroy her, he thought with a bitter certainty that, after a moment, turned again into terror, regret and shame.

He grabbed his phone quickly and dialled her number, wanting to beg her forgiveness, but she didn't answer. He sat down on the couch and drew in the air loudly, devastated, not recognising himself, realising what kind of man he was.

He laughed desperately, shaking his head, thinking with painful amusement how well she had judged him.

He didn't even have to pretend.

He was like Frollo.

_____

Author's note: Many of you may believe that Quasimodo is the best and most worthy of imitation character, not Phoebus, and this is true when it comes to the book, but I assume that if anything, Daeron at this age has only seen a Disney fairy tale, in which Phoebus is a handsome man with a noble heart. The whole idea of this scene, in which the heroine says that he will be her Phoebus and she will be his Esmeralda, is that Daeron wants to see himself not only as a person with a disability, but as someone handsome, a warrior that a woman could love one day. It's easy to understand how children's minds work and why his works this way, and his "Esmeralda" only wants to help him become the person he wants to be and encourages him not to give up on these dreams and this self-image.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96

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bakugoushotwife · 6 months

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kinktober day thirteen: somnophilia kink

>>> y'all i worked breeding into the plot again officer take me away!! i just love soft and domestic sho, and it also totally feels like something he'd love!!

>>> starring: shouto todoroki x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: fingering, oral (fem receiving) somno, breeding, reader hates working lmfao, creampie obviously, mating press. >>> wc: 2.6k >>> event masterlist

shouto loves relaxing. he was sure this was something everyone enjoyed, until he met you. you seemed to stay occupied at all times, delving into hobby after hobby to keep yourself busy. being professional heroes was draining enough, he thought, so why were you indulging in running clubs and extra gym sessions? why did you spend more time learning new recipes and anxiously cleaning the house these days than lounging in bed with him watching tv like you used to? of course, his first assumption is that he has done something to push you away or upset you, as he’s prone to doing. he’s naturally aloof and a bit distant, all things he tries to push past to connect to you, the only person who makes him feel warmth were his coldness usually lies. you know how he is, how he can come off a bit frigid and almost mean without thinking about it, or how he struggles to read your body language and cues—always missing the hints you throw him. you’re used to it by now, far more accommodating than a grown man like him deserves, so he figures this time he needs to get to the bottom of this and make it up to you and prove he can be in tune with your emotions too.

you had grown restless, but it wasn’t all your husband’s fault. you felt so out of place these days, feeling awkward in your own role in life. you enjoy being a hero some days, other days you can hardly motivate yourself to get out of bed. work had become monotonous and meaningless, the streets of japan were safer than they had been in years past, so most of your days were spent patrolling and training if they weren’t consumed in paper work. you felt stagnant, and things were only complicated further by your conflicting emotions. all your friends from school were retired to spend time with their families or in the process of retiring to go home and take care of their parents or kids—and then there was you. a family would be…perfect, but it was a touchy subject with shouto and you didn’t want to press the matter just because you needed a change in life. so yes, you started tinkering around with hobbies to try and get your mind off of things, knowing you had accepted the possibility of not having children when you agreed to be his misses todoroki. he hadn’t taken the possibility completely off the table, but you knew he wanted to broach the subject whenever he was ready. so you started using the home gym a little more, picking up books your girlfriends recommended, even working on your cooking skills all in an effort to feel something other than bored.

you didn’t associate your issues with shouto, still acting as normal as possible in other regards other than your drifting away. you really didn’t think he’d notice given the lack of emotional fluency he had, hoping if you could replace the void growing within you that everything would go back to normal and you could be as happy as you were five or ten years ago. but he had noticed, of course. he missed his wife alongside him, but it wasn’t his fault that he had trauma associated with family and was unsure of himself as a father. it certainly wasn’t his fault that when you got married right out of high school you hadn’t cared—knowing that you love him either way. this is still true, of course, but back then you hadn’t imagined you’d feel this way, this tired of the life you worked so hard for. so ready for the next chapter, especially as ochako welcomes baby midoriya number two and you’re left in charge of the elder brother at the hospital.

the little boy was only about four or so, absolutely adorable and the image of his father. he was a giggly kid, clinging to his “auntie” with excitement to meet his baby brother or sister. ochako called as soon as she was sure she was in labor, and you dropped everything to go support your closest friend, not that you needed an excuse to leave work early anyway. shouto was still working, of course, as a top five hero he was often kept busy. but that left you to wrangle the toddler on your own. it was way easier than you expected, even with the energetic little boy bouncing all over the waiting room waiting for his dad to come get him. he still conversed with you and ate his lunch like a good boy—though that’s because his parents were so good at raising him, but what would you expect from them?

all the day proved to you was that you weren’t just making up solutions to your problems, having a family really is what you want. but still, you love your husband more than this want, so you’ll double down on your hobbies until you find something that sticks.

he reads your texts over and over, waiting on you to get back from the hospital. he had set up a date, truly romantic when he tries to be, and when bakugou answers his calls. following his advice, he had your favorite dinner made and the dining room table was intimately set. ochako had her second baby, and that threw a minor wrench in his plans even lthough he was overjoyed for them, and for you for being their dependable friend in that moment. he sits at the table, all the food keeping warm in the oven as the wax of the candles starts to wane. he had flowers, wine, all the things he knew to try and connect with you and get to the center of your sleepless nights.

when you walk in, he stands, smiling sheepishly. you smile back, though it doesn’t reach the entirety of your eyes. then you notice he’s guarding the table, and you creep closer. “hey, honey.”

“welcome home, sweetheart.” he nods, stepping aside to show you the lovely dinner scene just for you. your heart melts a little at his effort, knowing it was always a great show of his love to do something like this, much preferring cuddle sessions and shared showers over grand displays of affection.

“aw, shou.” you pout, giving him a big hug, “this is so pretty, to what do i owe the pleasure?” you giggle like everything is normal. he hums in thought, slender arms holding your waist as he stews over what to say.

“you’ve been distant as of late.” he says without a trace of malice or disappointment. his words catch you by surprise–he did notice. he lets you go, pulling out your chair and tilting his head for you to sit. “why?”

you clear your throat and sit, any charade you wanted to drum up crumbling in your brain. you can’t lie to him, but how could you approach this without feeling like you’re betraying his trust and wishes. you sigh. “i… i’ve just been trying to find new hobbies.”

“you’re hardly sleeping, and i feel like i never see you anymore.” he frowns, making his way to the oven to retrieve the dinner the chef made. “what is it really, sweetheart? do you feel as if you cannot talk to me? is it something i’ve done?”

you chew the inside of your lip as he assembles food on your plate. “i don’t enjoy hero life anymore. i’m ready for the next chapter, to feel important for other reasons.” you reply, not wanting to make him at fault for your whirlwind feelings as of late.

he takes in what you say, smart enough to connect some dots. the picture you sent him of you holding baby midoriya in your arms and big brother proudly sitting on your lap was the happiest you’ve looked in some time. “the next chapter…as in, motherhood?”

you look up at him, studying his mismatched eyes for a hint of how he feels. you sigh, “i know, i know. i guess that’s why i’ve been a little withdrawn…i feel bad about it, i know what you want.” you chuckle sadly, sipping at the wine provided. “really, i’m trying to get over it, i guess. maybe we could get a dog?”

now he was disappointed. not in your desires, but that you put his possible feelings above your actual ones without ever speaking to him about it. just like you, he had changed as well. he wasn’t the same unsure eighteen year old he was when you married him, and though he still held trauma from his childhood, he had long accepted the concept of being a father since you were by his side. he could do anything if he was with you. he cuts into the meal and gives you a sympathetic glance.

“you should have told me. a family…i think i’m ready for that, if you’re saying you’re ready to stay home in that way.” he hums, knowing you wouldn’t put yourself in harm’s way after becoming a mother. you gape at him, replaying his words over in your head.

“wh–i don’t want you to do it just for me.” you double down, blindsided by his revelation. had you really put yourself through all of this for nothing?

“i would do anything for you.” he replies instantly, and he meant that with no restrictions. “but i had considered it again around the time izuku welcomed his first.”

“meaning you were ready four years ago?!” you almost cry out just from the shock alone, and he chuckles softly.

“not ready to have one then, but i knew i would want some eventually. now is a good time. we’re stable. you made me nervous.” he sips at his wine, eating his food nonchalantly.

“i made you nervous? i–” you sputter, still grappling with the fact that shouto was more than willing to try for a baby.

“i thought i messed up, you were drifting from me. i wish i had known all you wanted was a child.” he hums thoughtfully, a full plan coming together in his head to comfort both of you. “and you haven’t been getting enough sleep for weeks, so i’ll make sure you get both tonight.”

you took that to mean that he’ll fuck you to sleep, another thing he’s prone to do at times. so you shower and meet him in bed, trying to repress your giddiness. you didn’t notice the devious smirk your husband gave you as you sink into his arms. he pulls the blankets over you both, leaning in to give you the routine kisses before bed, and then he turns over like he’s going to sleep.

you look at the ceiling in the dark with confusion. did he forget or change his mind?

“you have to go to sleep before i’ll give you that child, sweetheart.” he speaks into the night, making your heart pound with a mix of frustration and intrigue and warmth at how he cares for you, as worked up as you were for him now, you groan and turn over. your brain is quiet as it’s your heart that races for once, and eventually you’re able to drift to sleep.

he waits a few hours to make sure you’re good and asleep, his whole plan would be ruined if he woke you up. shouto loves you more than anything, and he hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he was worried. you had to be well rested, especially if you hoped to give him a baby after all. so only when he hears your quiet snores and deep breathing does he scoot closer, gently positioning you on your back. you dressed in a little nightgown in anticipation of him anyhow, so it was easy for him to locate your waiting bundle of nerves. he rubs you carefully, drawing small circles over your hood as you squirm the slightest bit beside him. he slides his fingers down to the familiar hole beneath, nodding at the feeling of slick appearing, your sweet body was responding to him. he crawls between your legs and carefully pushes your nightgown up over your chest, completely bewitched at the sight of your nipples perking up and goosebumps covering your perfect body.

he thinks it’s almost ridiculous to think he wouldn’t want children with you. you’ve been in his life since his ua days and no one knew him like you did. you were someone so clearly meant to be a mother, it would be a crime not to give you the family you deserve. he easily parts your thighs, massaging and kneading the thickness he finds there as he lowers his face to your slick cunt. he’s always so gentle, but no time more than now as he hopes to remedy all your problems in one fell swoop like a good husband should. he laps at your center, angular nose bumping against the sensitive clit nestled above until he can hear your breathing change. he didn’t think he’d like it this much, but knowing that your body responds to him even subconsciously has his dick growing in his pants. you taste just as good as usual, growing wetter against his face with every passing second. he slides his fingers in, needing to know when you came. you spasm around the digits as his mouth focuses your swollen clit, and he knows you won’t take much longer. he may need his time understanding emotions and the like, but he knew your body like he knew his own. a few more flicks of his tongue over your nub and pumps of his fingers tickling your insides has you unraveling, and even in your sleep you look majestic cumming on his face.

he shoves himself out of his boxers, admiring the way you still jerk when he presses his his fingers to your sensitivity. he draws your thighs around his slender hips, angling his pretty cock to your folds. he nuzzles the length along your folds to coat himself despite the pre oozing from his pink tip, taking a second to enjoy that sight in and of itself. then he sheaths himself, careful not to hiss too loud. you feel amazing, clenching him so tight even in the r.e.m stages of sleep, it’s almost too much for him to process. this was the first attempt at a baby, a family he never imagined himself having until he married and matured with you. it’s intoxicating, really, the way he rocks his way into your waiting pussy, silky walls guiding him in and out without any resistance. he has to bite down on his lip not to grunt and moan at how you feel, promising himself that he’d stay quiet and fill you to the brim. he pushes your legs to your chest, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. you only pant softly as he draws in and out of you, figuring this deep angle would be the best for his seed.

all you did was follow his orders, getting the rest he demanded in exchange for his cum, even though he really won in the end. getting you to sleep, getting to see your body recognize and beg for him, getting to shove his cock deep and impress himself on your womb was more than a fair trade. a soft grunt slips past his lips as his hips stutter. his balls feel unimaginably heavy and then they don’t, his heavy load being fucked even deeper by the determined man you married. even when his warmth pools around his own dick as it goes soft inside you, he doesn’t quit, rolling his hips until he’s too sensitive to continue.

he’s the one that doesn’t get any sleep that night, watching you sleep with his seed tucked in you only inspired him to take breaks and keep pumping you full, resigning himself to rest hours later when he can’t possibly cum anymore.

#kyleewritesmha #kylee's kinktober event #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #shoto todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #shouto todoroki #mha #boku no hero academia #todoroki shoto #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki smut #shouto smut #shoto smut

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notroosterbradshaw · 1 year

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Oh thank you for the compliment :) i'm sure you could do it justice but maybe we could get some generic hangman fluff maybe with them at the beach and he looks out for her by putting sunblock on her and making sure she's eats lunch and stays hydrated and he's teasing her and being very playful with her? Thanks

Okie doke, you get your Hangman on the beach, nonny. I hope you enjoy! Hangman fluff awaits. Dagger Squad future fic.

You liked this new tradition you were able to share with Jake. Each year, around the same time depending on deployments, family commitments, you know the normal life stuff, Dagger Squad came from far and wide to try and get back to the beach for their annual defensive football game and bonfire. Mid-afternoon, the egos start running their mouths about which team will win, and what the stakes are (and the winners and partners always enjoyed the 200 push-ups for the losers and Fanboy's sigh at wishing he never mentioned it).

"Right here, baby?" Jake asked quietly, saying a quiet hello to Bob's partner and burgeoning baby belly and Penny. His warm palm skimming the skin between your ripped jeans shorts and his old Foreigner tee you'd knotted in the back to make work. He nuzzled your neck as he dropped the cooler and whipped off his shirt. He hadn't buttoned it so what difference did it mean as he slid out of his flip flops and put all his gear into a pile and into the beach bag.

Some regiments he just couldn't shake, and neatness was one of them. So was the gym. You would love him endlessly anyway, but he was proud of his body and worked hard on maintaining it as he got older. You were proud he was proud he took such good care of himself and you reaped the benefits.

Ha gave you some space as he unfolded the blanket and flicked it out onto the warm sand as Harvard and Yale approached him and within seconds, they were talking about recent deployments, new kit, and manoeuvres. You were as supportive as you could be with things you'd rather be kept in the dark over. Jake respected that. He knew what he did terrifed you but the boys just understood it better than you ever could. You were absolutely not offended.

You tossed some bits and pieces on the blanket, camera, snacks, and sunscreen. "Ooh," Jake smirked, popping to pick up the sunscreen. "May I?" he asked eagerly.

"May I?" you repeated, biting back your grin. "Aren't you proper today?"

"I would hate for you to be burnt. It's a skin trauma, baby," he protested as you took your sunnies off and glared at him. "And I wanna feel you up. Sue me," he shrugged, his true personality shining through.

"Well, aren't you sweet?" you roughly patted his cheek and the masochist in him loved the lack of caress in your touch. He adjusted his jaw appreciatively. "Okay, Jake. Just to avoid the trauma."

"Your skin is your biggest organ," he reminded you, watching you lift the shirt over your shoulders, licking his lips at the additional skin you'd been keeping under wraps. "Not mine..." he muttered cheekily.

"Jake, knock it off," you laughed as he grinned wide, turning you away from him. You wouldn't complain about the extra touch and affection that lasted a good five minutes, you we melting under his light touch. He kissed the nape of your neck in finality. "I'm good?" you asked quietly.

"You're very, very good," he growled playfully swatting your butt.

You gave him space and sat on the beach blanket, sunnies back on, and Jake plopped your hat on your head. "Thank you."

"Here ya go, sweetheart," Jake handed you your water bottle. "Gettin' hot out here," he grinned. He thrived in hot weather. You smiled against his lips as he laid a gentle kiss on you. "You wanna play?" he could hear the catcalling and jeering for Jake to toss the ball around.

"Would rather put knitting needles in my eyes. Only here to watch the bodies," you joked... kind of.

"You just mean mine, right?" he asked, a mix of unsurity and arrogance as you laughed.

"Yes, Jake. Only yours. Go have fun," you reassured him, taking a seat and a cool slug from your water bottle as he stood over you and squatted to give you another sweet kiss.

"I'm glad you're here, sweetheart. I'm happy as this group gets bigger that you're here with me and you get to meet the people I trust more than my own family."

You cupped his jaw. "They are your family. They are our family, baby. You big softie."

Warm in the sun, but you noticed his ears flush and duck his eyes. "Don't tell anyone or my reputation will be shattered," he teased as you both laughed loudly, and his heart swelled to bring that smile to your beautiful face. "Gimme some lovin' before I go and kick these preppy asses," he smiled against your lips and kissed you deeply. "Another," he demanded. "You're so sweet, I can't handle it," his nose nuzzled against yours.

You knew his friends were mocking him behind his back but you were very confident he didn't change his behaviour around his friends and was comfortable enough to lay some love on you and you were very aware of Penny's stare... and jaw-dropping.

"Jake, Jesus!" you hear Coyote holler.

"Your bestie is pissed," you told Jake as he looked back over his shoulder and gave the team a selective one-finger salute. "Go, before they think it's me keeping you here. And not your that's horribly whipped."

"I'm whipped," he admitted and stretched, this incredible body flexing in all the right places, the golden sun making the beads of sweat his flawless skin glisten. Jesus, he was just so sexy. "I freely admit it."

"Go," you scooted him as his persona changed and Hangman arrived.

"All right, all right, all right, who is ready for some football?" he boomed, drifting over to his friends. It got rough and competitive, sweaty and slippery pretty quickly and you got closer a while later to take some polaroids as the sun set for shits and giggles later tonight to hand out. You had a pleasant afternoon as more friends and family joined you and kept you busy.

As the game was called and losers paid their penance in the form of push-ups, you watched Jake and Rooster put together the bonfire, the part you were most excited for. Yes, Jake Seresin was hotter, if possible, in most light, but the way the flames flickered over his face as you chatted with Natasha and he kept his arm around your shoulder, under the pretence of keeping you warmed before the roaring fire.

"You hungry, babydoll?" he murmured in your ear, the barbecue well and truly cranked and the smells driving your tummy into overdrive. "Beer?"

"Yes to both, please?" you asked and he nodded, kissing you tenderly before leaving you with Natasha. She shook her head in disbelief.

"Who is that guy and what did he do with Bagman?" she asked, astonished. You grinned. "That is a man in love."

#just putting it out there #i'm not really a hangman girl #I'll write the occasional drabble #but...#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin fic #jake seresin #hangman fic #hangman x reader #hangman #hangman fluff #notroosterbradshaw #5 min ficlet

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homocidal-invader · 28 days

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Professor Membrane: Good or Bad Father?

I've decided to scientifically argue weather or not Professor Membrane from Invader Zim father of Dib Membrane and gasoline the other one by going through EVERY EPISODE of Invader Zim (that he appears in) and making a point counter of every good and bad action he does.

Episode 1 The Nightmare Begins Ignores Dib -1 point

Episode 2B NanoZim Just gives him the tiny ship when he needs help even though what he says is insane. Proffy doesn't even call him insane just tells him to run along + 1 point

Episode 3A Parent Teacher Night He tried to show up for the meeting,,, even if it resulted in the lab exploding. + 1 dad point - 1 scientist point

Episode 6B Battle Dib Didn't recognize his son - 1 point Too hard to contact - 1 point Gave Dib the permission slip + 1 point

Episode 8B Bad Bad Rubber Piggy MADE HIS SON INTO A COOL ASS BATTLE ROBOT TO PREVENT HIM FROM DYING + 1 point

10B Bloatys Pizza Hog Only one annual family night out - 1 point Lets Gaz choose wherever she wants + 1 point Made sure Dib also came + 1 point If Dib doesn't show up, he'll put it off for next year - 1 point 12B Game Slave 2 One of the best lines in the show + 1 point

13 Battle of the Planets Told his son aliens were fake and said he had a big head as a baby. The iconic line "my poor insane son" debuts this episode. - 1 point

14 Halloween Spectacular of Spooky Doom said "It was only a matter of time" for Dib going to HIS INSANE ASYLUM THAT HE OWNS. - 1 point Did not consider Dib's opinion for a second. - 1 point Sent Dib to the asylum. For the rest of his life. - 1 point And an extra bad point, because that's really bad, and the worst thing he's done in the show and what most people remember him for. - 1 point Another bad point for apparently experimenting on baby Dib so much he has subconscious trauma over it. - 1 point

15B Future Dib Neglects his children (hasn't shown up for weeks) - 1 point However he makes prerecorded messages for them so he's not totally abandoning them. + 1 point Inviting his kids to the infinite energy thingy. + 1 point Pat Gaz on the head + 1 point Noticed Dib was missing immedietely + 1 point He told Gaz to make sure Dib doesn't do anything embarrassing. - 1 point Waited for his kids despite jeers from the audience + 1 point DOESN'T GIVE EVERYONE PERPETUAL ENERGY BECAUSE THEY DISRESPECTED HIS KIDS + 1 dad point - 1 scientist point Membrane doesn't realize the robot dib is fake - 1 point

18B The Sad Sad Tale of Chickenfoot Invasion of privacy by letting randoms in the house. - 1 point Calls his son insane to everyone there. - 1 point Insisting what his son's future is as I'm assuming he does that a lot offscreen. - 1 point Not defending Dib when everyone starts laughing at him - 1 point

20 Tak The Hideous New Girl Trying to make friends with Dib's friend :) + 1 point

21 Backseat Drivers from Beyond the Stars Tells Gaz to be nice to his brother and helps her out with her problem. + 1 point Calls Dib insane behind his back - 1 point

23b Dibship Rising He LIED about the can of beans wiping out ALL HUMAN LIFE - 1 point?

25 Gaz Taster of Pork Always keeps the fridge stocked with good food + 1 point Stopped what he was doing immedietely to help Gaz with her problem + 1 point Put his kid on public TV without consent - 1 point Turned his kid into an experiment - 1 point Makes his children have to do an escape sequence at all - 1 point Apologizes + 1 point

27 The Most Horrible X-Mas Ever Trusted Dib with his anti-santa arsenal + 1 point

DELETED EPISODES!

Mopiness of Doom Listened to Dib + 1 point Told Dib to give up on his dreams - 1 point Very encouraging to Dib + 1 point Constantly checking in on Dib + 1 point Very tuned into Dib's emotions and be able to tell when something is bothering him + 1 point Professor Membrane's love is conditional - 1 point Complaining about Dib to Gaz - 1 point

10 Minutes to Doom Did not recognize his son - 1 point Did not want to get involved with Dib's fashion matters - 1 point Deciding to take a look anyways + 1 point Didn't to his son and now insisting that they have to stop him - 1 point

Day of Da Spookies Calls his son insane - 1 point Stopping work to help him anyways + 1 point

TOTAL SCORE

Good Points - 25 Bad Points - 30

ENTER THE FLORPUS

Making his kids a food robot + 1 point Waiting for Dib + 1 point Calling his son insane to Gaz - 1 point Telling Gaz to be supportive, even using metaphors + 1 point BEHOLD MY BOY CHILD + 1 point Mean to Dib about his interests - 1 point Arguing - 1 point Calling Dib's spaceship fake - 1 point Wishing isn't very scientific son - 1 point Patting his son on the head + 1 point Unprovoked calling Dib's ideas imaginary - 1 point Confirming he knows aliens exist, thus meaning that he's just saying they don't to be mean to his son specifically - 1 point Insisting it's a hallucinations so hard - 1 point Saying he'll always be proud of his son before he thinks he's going to die + 1 point Saved his son from a pit! + 1 point Helped fight off robots with Dib + 1 point Saying "great work honey" to Gaz + 1 point Using the moose without arguing + 1 point Pretending like all of it was a hallucination - 1 point Convincing everyone else it was a hallucination too - 1 point 10 Good point 10 Bad points

TOTAL SCORE

Good Points - 35 Bad Points - 40

RESULTS ARE IN!!!! Professor Membrane, SCIENTIFICALLY, is a BAD DADDYO!!!!!!

#INVADER ZIM #professor membrane

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nipuni · 2 months

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Doctor Who report!! We are all caught up with NuWho and in time to watch the new season when it comes out!! mission accomplished, It took us around 6 months total and we loved every minute of it 🥰

Now that we have watched all eras I can share our tastes and opinions nobody asked for under the cut 😌

We can confidently say RTD's era is our favourite and for Doctors 10 (and 14) followed by 12, but honestly there isn't a single Doctor (or Master!) that we didn't love.

We've also started rewatching the first four seasons now with more context and there is just something so special about them. They almost feel like a different show from all the later ones. The silliness and the way the story doesn't take itself seriously at all until all of a sudden it does and then the pain hits you twice as hard because of it. How with just with a line or deed and it's implications the Doctor can be so unbelievably inspiring. The way the narrative seems to place you in the role of a companion trying to catch up with the Doctor and figure him out yet never quite managing to do so creates this distance but also admiration and reverence in you too and you can't help but adore him flaws and all. It has just the right amount of room for every side character and relationship to develop and feel human and the right amount of exposition to keep the pace quick and don't hold your hand. The glimpses behind the doctor's cheerful childish façade into an unsettling calculating alienness and immeasurable trauma but also a weary wisdom. The complete selflessness to the point of martyrdom. The reckless irresponsible acts of devotion from both the companions and the Doctor. The near apotheosis of the companions the closer they get to him. The contagious feeling of awe and wonder and hope for life. The way it's so unabashedly centered around love of every kind 😭 ARGHH I don't know man there is nothing like it!! Ultimate comfort show for us, just.. healing really. There is so much more I can say and gush about but I'd be here typing all day so I'll draw more about it instead!! We would also like to get started on classic Who soon! and try to get our hands on the audio episodes and comic books and all the extra stuff as well 😊

We also watched more David Tennant works since the last report!

Blackpool was hilarious, infuriating and horny, the singing was a choice but overall so fun!! The Escape Artist was great, very sad and tense, would have loved for it to be longer, these miniseries are always so good but so short!! Mad to be Normal is so underrated? we enjoyed it a lot!! RD Laing's portrayal was so compelling, it's beautifully shot and the 60's setting is really immersive and well done. Einstein and Eddington was also really good, incredibly accurate historical setting!! the costuming was fantastic, one of the best I've seen!! These last two films are biographical and sort of no plot just vibes so maybe this is why they are not everyone's cup of tea but we enjoyed them very much. David just never misses, I'm sure we can watch anything with him in it and we will love it no matter what lmao what a guy 😭

Anyway that's all for now! I hope you are all doing well, spring/autumn is almost here! best bits of the year 😊

#DW report #doctor who #personal

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luvhughes43 · 5 months

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After Blake’s own injury’s she’s so hyper aware and sensitive about injuries. She must’ve had such a difficult time when both Nico and Jack were injured and then seeing Luke get hurt at last nights game.

this!!!

after her injury, nobody really anticipated how she would react when her siblings, nico, anyone she knows gets injured

a few months after her injury, her parents encouraged her to watch a game with them and she agrees. jack gets hit HARD. and he’s slow to get up

blake feels like she’s back in that arena all those months ago, pain shooting up her back as she sobbed out in pain.

she’s having vivid flashbacks to her fall, and she starts hyperventilating but her parents don’t realize what’s happening because jack finally gets up off the ice.

when they turn their attention to blake, she’s shaking and there’s tears streaming down her face. they can see the cameras start to focus on the family’s reaction to the hit and so now they’re trying to shield blake from everyone while also trying to calm her down

they leave the game early, and while blake rests her parents come up with a plan to get her into extra therapy sessions + find programs that can help support her.

a few years after her injury she’s made a lot of progress in her mental health journey, but injuries still affect her.

like with nico, her anxieties and traumas make her step away from him. she doesn’t want to suffocate him, and she’s so worried that she’ll say or do the wrong thing or maybe make his injury worse by being around him? (her coaches were always manipulating her and so sometimes she has this warped sense of reality where she doesn’t know how to properly process/react to things. like they’d blame her for all of her injuries and not take responsibilities for their abusive tactics, etc.)

so a big thing in their relationship is to communicate and listen to each other. nico is always super accommodating to blake’s struggles and he’s always there to reassure her that she’s not hurting or going to hurt him.

anyway, with her siblings it’s a little different. whenever they get injured she sees herself in them. she recalls her injury and she gets so stressed / upset that they’re going to get seriously hurt and maybe even have to end their careers prematurely.

she struggles a lot when it comes to the people she loves being injured, but everyone’s super understanding and patient with her healing process. everyone makes sure to call or show her that they’re fine, going to get better, etc. there’s a lot of therapy and heart to hearts with family/nico for sure.

#blake hughes au #hughes!sister #nico hischier x reader #jack hughes x reader #luke hughes x reader #nhl imagine

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msfantasy-comics · 6 months

Text

The Perfect Match

Roy Harper x Reader

Summary: A head cannon in which you are Roy’s perfect match.

Masterlist - Tip Jar

Independence

Throughout Roy’s developmental years, he was always treated with excessive handholding, rules and over exertion of authority.

This has led Roy to feel resentful of constraints.

In his former years, Roy relished the freedom and exercising autonomy through the Outlaws.

Roy really appreciates the sense of freedom you give in your relationship.

Roy: “Would you be upset if I cancel our date tonight? Jason’s back in town.”

You were fully dressed up, ready for your hot date.

Y/n: “Nope.”

And you really meant it.

You took advantage of your hot fit and took yourself on a date.

The flexibility you give him is one of the key factors to your loving relationship.

Adventurous Spirit

Given Roy has spent most of his free time training and practicing the art of archery, Roy needs a romantic partner who shares the passion of adventure.

Roy: “Wow… I never seen anyone shoot the ground when the target is only 5 meters away.

Y/n: “I was just testing the bow resistance…”

Roy: “Uh-huh…”

Whilst you may not be the most talented archer or most fit individual. You are always keen to try and participate.

Your enthusiasm to do better is infectious and Roy just loves and appreciates your willingness to try and do better, especially when it comes to his interests.

Y/n: “Roy did you see, did you see?! I hit the outer ring!”

Supportive and Empathetic

Roy has had to endure many hardships throughout his developmental years which has plagued him every so often during his adult hood such as;

Addiction issues - not only does Roy have past entanglements with addictions which leads him to live a clean life. He had developed a critical eye for intentions, as a trusted friend was the cause to his addiction. Now, Roy analyses everything for deeper motivations. That’s just the result of the trauma and it’s a the reality in which you had accept. Whilst it can be insulting and exhausting to be under the microscope, you always speak your mind freely and bluntly.

Relationship dynamic of being in a team - it’s a struggle for Roy to build trust in others due to his past experiences. He has trouble letting people in, but once your in, you most certainly not getting out. You appreciate the value in which Roy holds you and makes you feel extra safe and comfortable knowing that Roy, no matter what, will always be there for you.

Responsibility as a hero - Roy has had to endure the heavy burden of protecting society as nothing more than a well trained human. Society is never short of criticism and Roy is hard on himself enough as it is. This can lead to feeling emotionally and physically strained. Roy cannot handle the criticism of his short comings when it comes to his romantic entanglements too.

Roy: “Y/n, baby, I’m so sorry I missed your birthday party, it’s just, this woman, and her child-“

Y/n: “Roy! I had the best birthday ever! I took lots of photos, so you could see it all when you finished your patrol. But we can do that later, do you want me to draw you a bath? Have you eaten yet?”

Roy: *pant* “aren’t you-“ *pant* “upset with me?”

Y/n: “Don’t be a silly goose, I know you wouldn’t miss anything intentionally, must’ve been really important. We’ve been together for years, think I don’t know you by now?”

Sense of Humor

Even in the hardest of times, it’s at times easier to just have a laugh.

Roy appreciates that you don’t take difficult situations to seriously and just have a laugh with him.

Roy thinks your extra-adorable since you kept notes on his funniest one-liners.

"Some days, I wish I was a firefighter. All you have to worry about is fire."

"We're supposed to be professionals, yet here we are, running around in spandex, talking to ourselves."

"All these costume changes, and I'm still trying to figure out my life."

In a crowd full of hero’s your laughter amongst the dead silence is always appreciated.

#dc imagines #dc x reader #Roy Harper x reader #Roy Harper imagine #Roy x reader #Arsenal x reader #Arsenal imagine #speedy x reader #speedy imagine #red arrow x reader #red arrow imagine #arrowfam x reader #arrowfam

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fluffyfluffyscarecrow · 6 months

Text

Scarecrow, Two Face, Penguin, Mad Hatter, and Mr. Freeze with a Partner who Sleeps With A Plush of Them

Inspired by the Scarecrow and Two Face plushies I sewed.

Scarecrow

You had spent days hand-sewing this plush doll of Jonathan Crane, and though it wasn't perfect, you had put a lot of love into it.

The doll appeared to stare up at you with its button eyes while you held its floppy, huggable body and stroked its soft hair. It was like an exact copy of Jonathan, just smaller. And probably less likely to commit crimes.

Jonathan would be incredibly surprised to see the plush- lots of times when people made artistic interpretations of him they were meant to be terrifying. He had never seen a version of himself this...cuddly. He doesn't mind it, though. In fact, he's quite flattered.

When you tell him about how you cuddle the plush at night he practically melts.

Two Face

You made most of the plush Two Face with soft minky fabric, but decided to add something extra- faux fur on the white side of his hair and dot textured minky for his scars. He was perfect.

The first time you showed it to Harvey, he was speechless. His fingers ran across the soft fabrics you had used to capture him so lovingly, and you might have even seen a tear roll down the unscarred side of his face. Two Face is the one to break the silence, saying "you really want to cuddle me that much?"

When you admit to them you cuddle the plush at night to feel close to them, they immediately wrap you in a massive hug. You hug them back of course, making sure to kiss their scars.

Penguin

Oswald had always been insecure about his appearance, and no matter how much you tried to encourage and support him with words, hugs, everything...it always seemed as if his trauma would make him feel unworthy of you. So you got an idea. You would show him exactly how you saw him, in the form of a cuddly plushie.

You had to modify your pattern quite a bit to make it accurate, but it was worth it. The plush Penguin sat before you with its arms outstretched, just waiting to be held.

You paid extra attention to translating the parts of himself Oswald was insecure about into the plush- intricately sewn hands, a prominent beak-like nose, his cuddly, plump body, and of course his long, soft hair.

You're a bit nervous to show the plush to him as you're not sure how he'll react, so you start kind of awkwardly.

"Uh...I...I really wanted to show you how wonderful you are in my eyes and I...I adore every single part of you, so I made this..."

Oswald doesn't know what to think at first, but he's incredibly touched. He still tries to play it cool, of course.

"I mean, you could always have a life-sized version of me if you want."

Catch him off guard by kissing his nose and wrapping him in a hug.

Mad Hatter

Okay, uh.. You didn't sew this one. You just kinda found a Disney Mad Hatter plushie on Ebay or something and thought it reminded you of Jervis.

(Fun fact, I actually do have this plush and he's very soft!)

Even if you didn't sew it, Jervis freaking loves it. You want to cuddle? With him??? So badly that you got a plushie to hold when he wasn't there to comfort you????

Mr. Freeze

This man is very insecure about how he's unable to cuddle you due to his physical state, so you get an idea.

The plush was honestly kind of hard to make, with all the intricate details of his suit, but it was absolutely worth it. You even added a voice box inside so you could hear his sweet German accent whenever you wanted.

Also you added a small tuft of fluffy fabric for his hair, (ik BTAS doesn't have that but HQTAS does and I freaking love it so it's going here!)

He absolutely cries when you show it to him.

You wrap your arms around him when he does, it stings a bit but it's worth it to see him smile.

For Christmas that year you make him a Nora plushie, with magnets in her hands so she can hold hands with your Mr. Freeze plush.

You better believe he cuddles his Nora plush every day. It's not even close to having his wife back of course, but it does relieve some of the pain to get to hold her again.

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obxsummer · 1 year

Text

Dreamcatcher // JJ Maybank

pairing: jj maybank x gn!reader

request: “I broke the lock. You were screaming.” and ❛ promise me you’ll still be here when i wake up. ❜ with jj? gn!reader has been having nightmares every night since the treasure hunting started, and its the first night back in obx after poguelandia and they have a really bad one, and jj is there to help? of course, only write it if you want to, your writing is beautiful! lots of love <3

warnings: nightmares, creepy wound descriptions

a/n: y'all i have no idea why the links are going to the browser the way they are but I'm hoping tumble fixes itself here soon

navigation

#obx3celebration

Your time in Poguelandia was hard. Learning how to survive off the island around you was rewarding, but also terrifying. What if you ate something poisonous or someone got seriously injured? Each day got a little bit easier than the one before but you couldn’t lie and say it was a vacation.

You were glad to be back in the OBX. Although it sucked living back here on your own, it was nice to be back in your bed and to know what exactly you were surrounding yourself with. JJ followed along with you after coming back to an eviction notice on his door. You were more than happy to offer up the extra room in your home, grateful to not have an empty house.

You’d grown up alongside Sarah Cameron and the Kooks, easily becoming one of her best friends over the years. Eventually, you were dragged into the chaos and solidified your Pogue friendship with Kie, JJ, Pope, and John B. They were your best friends, your steady pillars in a rocky world. Of course, jumping off a boat in the middle of the ocean wasn’t on your bucket list, but you’d do anything for them.

Nothing brought people together better than trauma bonding, of course. In the past month, you and JJ slowly inched closer. Both of you had nobody to return home to and nowhere to be. He was lost and you were broken; two puzzle pieces that oddly fit together.

JJ was crashing in the guest bedroom, having showered and fallen asleep quickly after the two of you got dropped off. You took your time to get to bed, knowing as soon as you sat on the mattress, you’d be out for hours.

You didn’t know where your parents were, opting that maybe they never even knew you were gone in the first place. You were quick to find a spare phone and get it set back up in case the Pogues reached out with any news.

The dark and quiet of your room was intimidating as you lay there on your back. You were so used to the crackle of a dying fire, or one of your friends snoring. The moon almost always cast a light around you as well and the sound of the moving ocean was calming.

It wasn’t obvious when the dark of your ceiling turned into the dark of your dreams but suddenly, you were back on that island. The sky was black above you with flashes of light from a nearing storm. Turning around, you quickly realized you were alone. You tried not to resort straight to panic but it was hard to do, especially here of all places.

Your feet moved quickly through the terrain as you attempted to make your way back to where you knew your camp was set up. “JJ? Sarah! Hello? Anyone!” Your voice was scratchy as you yelled in hopes that someone would hear you and call back.

Fear bubbled in your chest when you couldn’t find camp. Everything was gone; Sarah’s woven baskets, the fire JJ had built, all of the food you’d surfaced, everything. Everyone.

“Someone! Hello!” You spun towards the open water, the liquid black with the night. You were stranded by yourself, with no way home. No friends to help you. “Help, please!”

“Looking for someone?” The voice of Ward Cameron grabbed your attention instantly. He faded into view, covered in blood, and looked like he meant revenge. “They’re all dead. You killed them.”

“What are you talking about?” You mumbled in confusion. Your eyes dropped to your own hands that were covered in dark red, the liquid practically dripping off your fingers. “Where are they?”

“You’re the reason we’re dead, Y/N.” A hand landed on your shoulder and forced you to spin. John B’s figure was standing in front of you with a noticeable bullet wound in his chest. Blood seeped through his shirt as Sarah walked up behind him with a similar wound in her hip.

You shook your head drastically, choking on the air in your throat at the sight of them. “No, no it wasn’t me! I-I don’t even-”

“We told you you weren’t cut out for this,” Kiara’s voice interrupted your desperate pleas as she moved into your vision. “You didn’t pull me out of the airplane, Y/N. Why didn’t you pull me out?”

“Stop!” You sobbed as you backed up to put distance between the three of them. This couldn’t be real. You swore you’d never let anything happen to any of the Pogues.

A sickening laugh came from next to you where Cleo and Pope were standing. Their clothing was smoking, almost ashy in nature. “It’s real,” Pope snapped to confirm your thoughts. “You didn’t save us. You said you would save us from the fire.”

Your body heaved at the sight of all of them, so damaged and lifelike in front of you. “No! I wouldn’t have let anything happen I-”

“You caused all of it.” JJ was suddenly right in front of you, bruises littering his body as blood smeared from open wounds. “You watched as my dad ended my life. Didn’t even move, didn’t flinch. You watched all of us die, Y/N, and you didn’t even try to stop it.”

“Now it’s time for us to bring you with us.” Kie’s grin was devilish as they all surrounded you. “Actions have consequences.”

“Y/N! Y/N, wake the hell up!”

You gasped air into your lungs and sat up sharply as the vision faded to nothing. You blinked tears from your eyes and folded over to get oxygen back into your body. Someone’s hand was warm on your back as they rubbed comforting circles.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” JJ’s voice sent chills down your spine. It was a stark contrast to the vicious, cruel tone you’d witnessed just seconds ago. “Just breathe. I gotcha.”

It took a moment before you could sit back up. You had become too aware of how cold your body was, no doubt from the sweat of whatever nightmare you’d just lived through. “What…What happened?”

“I broke the lock,” JJ admitted as you collapsed into his side and shivered. He cradled you against him tightly. “You were screaming.”

“Sorry, bad dream,” You apologized roughly. Your fingers were clenching the comforter harshly. It felt too real like he would disappear from beneath you in a split second and you’d be facing the consequences of something you caused.

JJ could feel you shaking in his arms. He’d barely gotten any sleep himself, so the second you cried out he came flying. It was hard not to assume the worst automatically. He’d watched you put on a brave face for so long and a break was inevitable at some point. He just didn’t expect you to scream the way you did. He didn’t hesitate to kick your bedroom door in and run to your side.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” The question was soft and felt optional for you to agree to.

You shrugged in his grasp, mumbling a thank you when he handed you the water from your nightstand. Nightmares like this had been happening for a while, ever since the treasure hunting started really. You’d dreamt through most of your memories but through a horrific lens instead. The only person you ever told was Pope, who had told you of similar instances himself. You guys went from being kids who fucked around for fun to life-and-death situations around every corner.

“It’s just like…ever since we started looking for the gold, these nightmares have gotten worse and worse. The scary part is they’re all very possible of being true. Of you guys getting hurt or-or worse? And I can’t even stop it, I’m just forced to watch it all unfold until I lose every single one of you.”

JJ was quiet as he listened to you speak. The wavering in your voice as you recounted what you’d seen made him even more upset that you’d dealt with this for so long. It was no secret your friend group got up to mischievous plans, but to know that it was at the point where you lost sleep over the idea of not having them was heartbreaking.

“It’s all over now,” JJ reassured as his thumb brushed at your cheeks. “Promise. Nothin’s gonna happen to any of us. I wouldn’t let it.”

His words didn’t bring as much comfort as you would’ve liked. Nothing ever really did until you saw each of your friends in front of you and were able to hug them. That’s the only way it ever felt real like the bad dreams were nothing compared to having them around you.

Your phone flashed 4:22 am back in your direction as you skimmed the notifications. You’d have to wait until it was acceptable to call everyone or gather them up to see them. You let out a defeated sigh, “Thanks, J. You didn’t have to come in.”

“Course I did. Gotta make sure you’re safe,” His response brought a smile to your face as you finally pulled out of his embrace. “Do…Do you want me to stay?”

You took a second to consider his offer before shaking your head and moving away from him. “I’m probably gonna stay awake and I don’t want you to have to-”

“Y/N.” JJ grabbed your hand to pull your attention back to him. “Just answer the question.”

You stared at him for a moment, your teeth digging into the skin on the inside of your lip before you nodded in response. JJ didn’t hesitate to wiggle under your sheets. He was a heavy sleeper so it would likely be easy for him to slip back into a peaceful slumber while you tossed and turned the rest of the night.

“Lay down before I drag you to sleep myself,” His voice was raspy as his fingers tugged against your t-shirt until you gave in and shuffled down next to him. JJ’s hand was warm as it reached across your frame to grab your right him to pull you closer until your chest was against his. “Just try, I gotcha.”

You adjusted so your head rest against his chest, fingers brushing his shirtless side before you settled in. Your busted doorframe could be fixed in the morning. You couldn’t hide the fact that you were still exhausted and JJ’s warmth was taking over as you listened to his steady breathing fill your surroundings.

“Promise you’ll be here in the morning?” You whispered shyly. Part of you hoped that was enough nightmares for the night but you didn’t wanna jinx yourself.

JJ’s blue eyes blinked open as a small smile formed across his face. His arm moved until his fingers grabbed yours from his side so he could hold them closer. If this was how you had to spend every night from here on out to keep the bad dreams away, he’d chase them until he couldn’t anymore. He’d do anything to make sure you were okay.

“Gonna be right here when you open your eyes. Promise.”

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#obx3celebration #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj outer banks #outer banks x reader #obx x reader #jj maybank angst #jj maybank x you #jj maybank smut #rudy pankox #outer banks imagine #outer banks #jj maybank fanfic

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comradeboyhalo · 7 months

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I had wrote a post a month ago about q!Bad's role in the narrative, and I want to revisit it. (Full disclaimer, this is just Not Real. I'm analyzing mcrp like a conventional narrative for fun. There are no actual "roles": every character is a main character.)

The analysis had come after months of Bad being a large part of lore, but not a major player. The mysteries and missions he went on were never his own. He was known as a strong fighter, until the codes directed their attention at Etoiles. He was second place in the election. Characters would get kidnapped or given enigmas, and q!Bad always played support. At the time, we were all impatient that he had no special Federation plotline after months of arriving on the island (no shade to the admins here - we're not talking meta).

But that brings us to present day, and suddenly Bad has become a very proactive character. His kids are gone, he has a motive, and suddenly he's the one changing the story. In literature, there is the trope of a "passive character": one that is affected by the story, one who is led by the plot. q!Bad is certainly not this character anymore. Instead of letting the Federation set the scene, he takes a page out of their book. He kidnaps one of theirs. Instead of theorizing about a spy like he did months ago, he's now actively feeding information to others to find a puppet. His skin is deteriorating due to his self-inflicted punishment. There has been a spike in posts and tweets about how Bad did [x] to [y] character. And that's what I'm talking about: Bad is moving his own plot. He is now what others react to.

And still. This is not Federation-designed. This is all on his hands. It's very rare that QSMP characters are so untouched by the Federation. Many characters are punished by the Federation. Many characters discover a storyline tied to the Federation. Many characters are experiments of the Federation. Bad has none of this. And I'm not at all saying this is unique to Bad, or that Bad is the only one who's actively moving his own plot, I just think that this provides a really interesting insight to Bad's character. (Again: this is a NON-META analysis! Every creator writes/helps writes their own storylines).

He is an extremely insular character. The Federation only investigated him when he made himself too hard to ignore. Aside from that? They do nothing. Secret shulker boxes? They were tied to Cellbit's lore. The tickets? Everyone ended up getting one. Imprisonment? Okay, but only for 15 minutes. He remembers his backstory, he remembers his life before the island. While the Federation could have interfered anytime in his lifetime, he's over 11,000 years old. His core trauma stems from (presumably) Atlantis. None of that is connected at all to the Federation. Drop q!Bad in another server, and nothing about his backstory changes. The more I think about it, the more odd it strikes me that Bad is an original islander, and he is so untouched by the Federation.

So this brings us to Bad's biggest Federation tie, which are the emails from before the server started. And even then, it implies that Bad is not a worker or an experiment, but a guest. And a special one, at that. It's very hard to take the emails as any definitive evidence, but what stands out to me is this quote:

"We are seeking quotes for the purchase of 1393 muffins to satisfy the extra demand of our special guest."

Each word here is the Federation catering to the special guest. The Federation has been given a demand, and they are fulfilling it. They are the reactionary party here. They are not the ones pulling the strings. They are not penning this story. It is the guest who is doing so, and, in theory, q!Bad.

So we come back to the same conclusion. Perhaps this has always been Bad's "role" - the special guest of Quesadilla Island. Invited to sit at the table, but not to give a speech. Perhaps he just never is going to get that Federation-tailored storyline because he is not meant to. His story started in Atlantis and he will always be pushing forward his own already-established plot. The Federation is just another antagonist in an already long, long tale. Everything he does is self-inflicted. Doesn't it make sense if this applies to the narrative as well?

#qsmp #badboyhalo #analysis

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yesimwriting · 1 year

Text

Final Girl - Part 8

Series Masterlist (updated chapters 1 -9 and extras) Final Girl Masterlist

A/N this took awhile,, but i always want to put my best foot forward bc of how much this series means to me, which means i work when i’m in the right headspace for it and have the time to invest,, which hasn’t been lining up too much recently 😭 anyways i see all the supportive comments and appreciate them sm!!

also keep in mind that my priority is not the timeline, like if you’re feeling like the month before halloween is the longest month of all time,, it’s bc i want to give them bonding time before the heavy murder stuff!

Series Summary: Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at the Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s/

Chapter Summary: Y/n tries to get back to normal and work on her friendships, but there’s nothing normal about surviving a serial killer attack, and it’s no one’s fault her friends keep noticing. She’s navigating the start of dealing with her trauma while also trying to be a good friend, especially since Billy hasn’t been feeling like himself lately. In a desperate attempt to feel like a normal, healthy teenager, Y/n crosses a personal boundary.

----

My mom has often told me that in many ways, I was born as an old lady.

She’d always say it after I tried being responsible. Suggesting that she give herself a curfew on weeknights, or at the very least, call if she was going to be late. Reminding her that there’s a reason people gave her the side eye when she took a visibly underage me into R-rated movies.

Now that I’m older, I guess she was right in a lot of ways. I wasn’t the kid-iest kid, if that makes sense, but there was one thing I was always good at: playing dress up.

With a mom like Gloria, it would have been hard not to. For years, my mom’s closet basically had the same magical properties as Disneyland. I thought that that mindset might have just been nine-year-old me, but apparently not, because Tatum and Sidney have been looking through it like it’s life changing.

“Okay.” Tatum picks up one of my mom’s shimmery wrap and tosses it over her shoulder. “It’s official, when I die, I want to be buried here.”

I look over in time to watch her observe herself in the mirror. “Then I hope you live for a very long time.”

She wrinkles her nose. “That better not be the only reason.”

“Course not, you know I love you very much, Tate-a-boo.” I make a quick kiss-y face, and Tatum almost giggles before returning the gesture.

Turning away from my mom’s dresses, Sidney smiles. “Please, for all our sakes, don’t let Stu hear you say that.”

After the joke settles, I practically snort. “Good point.” I step a little further into the closet, refocusing my attention. The only reason we’re all in here is because I wanted to borrow a pair of shoes before going out to the nail salon. It was Tatum’s idea, and the state of my cuticles made me agree. My social hibernation has not been good to them. “Okay, these are the shoes.”

Sidney steps out of the closet to give me the space to do the same. I slip on the shoes, happy with how they look with my outfit and their level of comfortableness. My mom rarely buys any shoes for herself that aren’t heels, so she ends up taking anything that’s remotely comfortable from my closet.

“I want to stay here.” Tatum’s hand brushes against the sleeve of something cashmere. “Maybe forever.”

“And leave your nail beds like that?” Sid glances away from the full length mirror that’s right outside of my mom’s closet. She turns her attention to her reflection, adjusting the fluffiness of her always, almost magically perfect bangs.

Tatum halfheartedly glares before stepping out of the closet. “You’re such a liar.” She raises a hand, studying her palm while walking out of the closet. “You told me they looked fine yesterday.”

Sidney almost smiles before throwing me a look. A quick raise of eyebrows that seems to say got her. “We’re gonna be late.”

----

The first nail appointment after awhile always feels like willingly volunteering to get a bunch of paper cuts. It’s not overwhelming painful, just a little irritating. After feels nice, though, now that my nails look fresh and I know I don’t have to worry about having my cuticles professionally gutted for a little bit.

And being around Sidney and Tatum is nice. Familiar in a way that’s still new. It’s weird in a good way. Like I could start throwing around cheesy terms like BFF and it wouldn’t even be dumb. It’d still be ironic, but I think they’d get the sentiment. It’s not that I’ve never had good friends, but this is different. A little more open.

Like right now we’re in Sidney’s room and we’re not talking about anything in particular, just going off of whatever comes up. I could probably say the dumbest thing in the world right now and it wouldn’t even feel unfitting or awkward.

“...Shut up, he was not that bad.” Tatum’s trying to sound more upset than she is. Somehow Sidney found a way to tell me about Tatum’s first boyfriend. A total middle school romance--they even went to the 8th grade dance together and held hands and had their first kiss under the bleachers. Sounds cute enough, but according to Sidney he was a total weirdo. Even by 8th grade boy standards. “He wasn’t.”

Sidney laughs again, the movement has her arm bumping into mine. “He tried to eat a live lizard because Stu dared him.”

“No way.” I snort. “Your first kiss was with a lizard eater?”

Tate sighs, dropping her head against the side of the mattress and crossing her legs on the floor. “Tried. It ran away and no one ever found it.” That’s still objectively hilarious. I can’t picture Tatum with anyone that out there, but then again, she is with Stu.

Not that he reminds me of an 8th grade boy trying to eat a lizard, but he was the one that came up with the idea. “Maybe Stu ate it.”

Tatum glares, halfheartedly shoving my leg as Sidney clasps a hand over her mouth to avoid laughing too hard. “I’ll ask him.”

It’s strange to picture them like that. A little younger, growing up together. “So you guys knew each other back then and now...”

She shrugs, “I don’t know...it just kind of happened. He was always hooking up with or seeing any girl with a pulse and I didn’t even see him like that until after--” She cuts herself off with no warning. “You know Sidney and Billy have a way nicer getting together story.” Tate snaps her head up to look at Sidney, whose expression immediately shifts. “Right, Sid?”

Sidney’s eyes briefly meet mine. There’s a bit of uneasiness there that I don’t get. What could the end of Tatum’s thought have been? What could she have been about to say that might have been--oh.

“Yeah,” she agrees, “Billy and I were hanging out for weeks--”

“You can say her name.” My throat feels drier than it did a second ago. “I won’t freak out if you mention Casey. Promise.”

Tatum’s eyes briefly shut. “That’s--” She doesn’t know how to finish the sentence. I’m right. Why wouldn’t she think I’d freak out? After the way I acted at that party. “No one would blame you if you did.”

It’s easy to say that it doesn’t matter when you’re not the one that has melt downs. “Yeah.”

There’s a brief stretch of awkward silence, the light mood now tainted by the exact thing that’s kept me away from my friends for so long. Maybe keeping to myself was about more than the safety of others--maybe I don’t want anyone to know what I’m like now.

“It’d be weirder if you weren’t a little messed up about it.” Tatum hums the words with such casualness I can’t help but laugh, even when Sidney snaps her head to the side to give her a seriously look. “I’m serious, only a total psycho would be able to see that and jump back into things.”

Sidney sits up a little more, “And you took the SAT a week after it all happened. You’re doing a lot better than most people would be doing.”

I nod, glad that they’re at least good at pretending that I’m not a total mess. “Yeah, guess I’m just sensitive about it because I freaked out on Noel at that party.” Ugh. That’s been something I’ve been trying really hard to forget. “He probably thinks I’m a total freak.” My eyes squeeze shut at the memory of the party. I had been a total mess. I flip flopped on murder accusations like it was nothing and nearly ran to Casey’s house in the middle of the night. “He’s probably told everyone I’m a total freak.”

“You don’t know that.” Sidney’s nice for trying to comfort me, but it’s not the best argument. She picks up on my expression because she then immediately tacks on, “Okay, let’s be logical--why would he do that?”

“Why wouldn’t he after the way I acted?” Ugh. Every guy that knows him is going to think I’m a complete weirdo. This is what I get for trying to date. “And it’s not like he called after. He hasn’t even talked to me in class since.”

Sidney’s eyebrows draw together briefly before her hands move off of her lap and land on her comforter. She pushes herself to stand. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

“Noel’s a total scrub. You’re better off.” Tatum stands too, scratching the back of her arm once. She approaches the bag she abandoned near Sidney’s door, “I brought that eyeshadow I was telling you about. The sparkly, blue one that makes everyone look like Baby Spice.”

She exhales what’s almost a laugh and I find myself not being able to answer. That does sound like something I’d normally happily go along with. Even though Tatum tends to go for a more subtle look on the day to day, she has a solid makeup collection. Lots of trendy shimmers and bright colors that are fun to swatch and mess around with. But there’s something about the way she said it...breezed away from one topic to this.

And the way Sidney just got up like she was hoping that’d change something. I sit up a little straighter, trying to remember what it’s like to not feel paranoid all the time.

Sidney stops adjusting her hair and messing with her bangs in the mirror. “Or we could hold off on that and go to the video store.” Another change to a topic that normally I’d be all over. “I think Randy’s working, we could bug him a little and get something to watch later.”

Okay, another thing I’d normally want to do. It has been a minute since I’ve gotten to annoy Randy, and the itch is definitely there. Maybe they’re just trying to be good friends and cheer me up, but they’re spitting out suggestions in a way that feels like they’re really hoping one will stick.

“Are--do you guys know something about something?” Ugh. If this is my paranoia acting up, I’ll never recover. Why can’t I just go along with things? “I don’t know if it’s me and my head, but you’re acting kinda weird.”

“No, we’re just--” Sidney’s eyes don’t stay on me, they shift over to Tatum for the briefest second. I blink and almost convince myself I’ve imagined it. “You’re not crazy, we just don’t want to stress you out.”

I push myself onto my feet. “That is the worst thing you can say to someone you don’t want to stress out.”

Sidney’s eyebrows draw together like she’s worried. I almost feel bad for pushing. “Noel not talking to you isn’t an accident or your fault.”

“Sid.” I snap my head in Tatum’s direction. She hesitates beneath my stare and gives in with a sigh, “Okay, Noel’s a player who brags about crushing girls’ virginities and breaking up with them the next day. He talks about every girl he’s dated like they’re some kind of car and there are even worse things written about him in the handicap stall of the second floor bathroom.” Tatum pauses, considering how she’s going to word what actually happened. “You’re going through a lot right now and that’s the last thing you need, and we were worried about you, so we talked to Stu and Billy and basically...got Noel to back off.”

Oh my god. The embarrassment, anger, and shock are all fighting for dominance in my mind, but none of them overpower the other so the feeling is just really fucking bad. All I can picture is Billy and Stu talking to Noel like I’m some little kid or someone with brain damage that can’t make their own choices.

“You guys suck!” I wipe at my face with the back of my hand, exhaustion cutting into my irritation. “Like really suck. I’m not some child that can’t make her own decisions.” Ugh--I can’t even decide how to react. “It’s not like I was going to marry him or anything.”

Tatum watches me with a certain level of uncertainty. I don’t think I’ve ever snapped at her or Sidney before. “You’re not exactly a casual dater.”

“Well--I-I could have been.” It feels awkward, almost reluctant, and I hate myself for it. She’s technically right. I’ve never casually dated, but I’ve never seriously dated either, so it probably wouldn’t kill me. “Either way, it might have been a mistake, but it was my mistake to make.”

“I know, Y/n,” Sidney breathes the words slowly, “We didn’t mean anything by it, it wasn’t like a whole scheme or anything it just--” She’s trying, really trying. “We wanted to help you.”

I didn’t need help, I was fine. The genuine hint of worry in her tone keeps me from pointing that out. I just stare at her and then at Tatum. Why does it matter anyways? Everyone gets to be normal and do dumb things and have people they’re close with and relationships and all I have is the stupid ‘almost murdered’ label.

“Why does it matter enough for you to--” I cut myself off, not sure what I’m really asking or what I mean.

Tatum lets out a small sigh, the sound almost reluctant, maybe a tiny bit annoyed that she even has to talk about this. “Because you’re our friend,” she half shrugs like what she’s saying should have been assumed , “And we love you.” She presses her lips together briefly, “Duh.”

Sidney throws a look in Tatum’s direction, “Yeah, we love you so much we were willing to risk you being super mad at us because we were worried.” Sidney pauses to take a breath. “We shouldn’t have done it behind your back, and in the future we won’t meddle.”

When I don’t ease, Tatum tacts on, “If it makes things any better, Stu’s normally a total guy’s guy about this kind of thing and even he thinks Noel’s a total creep.” She scratches the back of her wrist, “And those two never care about this stuff, so, boohoo, we all love you.”

Okay, that doesn’t exactly fix things but it does take the edge off just a tiny bit. They all go way back, and that’s intimidating. And Tatum’s trying to be funny about it, layering on the sarcasm so that I’ll laugh. I hate that it’s almost working. “Well, as long as it’s just everyone being obsessed with me...” The joke feels like a bit of a betrayal, so I tact on something else, “I’m still mad, though.” That feels even weaker. I’m too in my head about all of it and still pretty embarrassed despite the fact that I didn’t do anything. It won’t last forever, but right now, it’s all feeling like too much. The safety of my bedroom feels miles away instead of the few blocks it actually is. “I think I-I’m gonna...”

“No,” Tatum huffs, “It wasn’t supposed to be a thing.” She tilts her head to the side, silky blonde hair bouncing with the motion. “We haven’t seen you in forever and it was more Stu and Billy’s thing, they’ve been ready to start a thing with him since like the 9th grade.”

More Stu and Billy’s thing? That almost makes sense for Billy, who Noel casually suggested could be a murderer. But Stu? Noel seemed to like him well enough. Maybe it’s a loyalty thing. I can see Billy and Stu having a bit of package deal friendship. You can’t hate on one without becoming enemy of the other. And with how generally protective Stu seems to be over his friends, it’d make sense.

But still. I am not a bargaining chip or an excuse or someone that needs their approval on who I do or don’t date.

“Let’s do whatever you want to do and then if you’re still mad, we can invite them over and you can yell at them.”

Tatum almost smiles, “You’re good at that.”

That...feels a little weird. “I’m good at yelling?”

“No, it’s like when you told off that reporter. One minute, you’re normal, but then, when you need to be--bam! You’re super bitch.”

I laugh, this time it’s genuine. “Super bitch strikes again.” The exit is still close, and some nervous part of me wants to cling to the out. I’m not sure if it’s out of some form of fear or genuine anger or both. But I do want to stay around them a little longer and go take way too long renting a video just to annoy Randy. “If I get to pick what we do, I say we go bother Randy and get a movie. He’s had it easy for too long.”

Sid half scoffs at my ominous tone. “How do you know?”

"Knowing whether or not Randy needs to be annoyed is my superpower.”

----

The video rental is surprisingly empty for early Thursday evening. Schools are out and it’s close enough to the weekend where normally there are more people stopping by to check out what they want to watch in advance. Today doesn’t reflect that. Good to know that my Randy distress radar is still in tact.

There’s an older man adjusting the latest release aisle, changing out movies. He’s the only employee that I see as I scan over the store and a part of me nearly deflates. Sidney did say she thought Randy would be working and I have no way of knowing. Our friendship has also been a victim to my recent hermit ways, and it’s likely suffered more than my connection with anyone else. At least my other friends are in a couple of my classes or need to walk down the same hallways. Most of Randy’s classes aren’t near mine and we only share a study hall, which he often uses as an excuse to leave early in order to get to work. Meaning that most days I only see him during lunch.

The door to the back swings open and behind a cart of VHS tapes, there’s a familiar face. Randy. I find myself smiling as I approach the counter he’s coming up from behind.

“Excuse me,” he glances up, a bit of surprise causing him to raise his eyebrows, “I was wondering if you have a copy of Child’s Play 2, but not the original, the extended cut with the alternate ending, Sorority House Massacre, uncut, duh, and/or Fox’s original version of Clueless.”

Randy blinks, unfazed by my bullshit. “I’ve been around you too long to fall for that last one.”

I almost laugh. I can’t believe Randy remembers my rant about the developmental nightmare that was the original Clueless pitch. Fox wanted a TV show, but they got a movie instead, and that took way too long for no reason. I had talked about it a lot longer than I meant to the other day at school. “You caught it.”

“Decoys are always more obvious than they seem to the person making them.” It feels like some kind of movie rule reference, vague enough for me to get how it applies but not so random I feel the need to ask. “So are you here to rent something or make my job harder?”

“A little of both.” Turning my head, I gesture to where Sidney and Tatum are. They’re in the same aisle, backs to each other as they scan through options. “We wanted something to watch and Sidney said she thought you’d be working today.” I tap my nails against the counter. “And I had this feeling that things have probably been too easy for you.”

Randy’s lips turn upwards but it feels a little different than a smile. “Yeah, nothing but peace since you...”

“Became a total paranoid PTSD recluse?”

He half shrugs, “Jack Torrence.” I roll my eyes, a little relieved that Randy’s joking about it instead of pressing. It’s part of the reason he’s a good friend to have. “You’re feeling better, though, right?”

Spoke a little too soon, but that’s an okay question. It’s not invasive, it’s just an offer. “Getting there.”

Randy nods, taking in the answer for what feels like a little too long for two words. Maybe he’s feeling the honesty of what does seem like a cop out answer. I’m not over it by any means, but feeling better is a process that’s starting to work. “That’s good.” He pushes the cart slightly before pulling back to place. “You’re good.” Randy lets out a breath, tugging and pushing the cart again. “I mean--deserve to feel good and normal.”

I grin at the stumble in words. It’s rare that we’re openly nice to each other instead of acting like little kids after one pulls the other’s hair. “I get what you mean.”

His lips part, but no words come out. Randy’s eyebrows draw together as his mouth shuts. What is--a firm touch on my shoulder snaps the question out of me. My head turns and some kind of comment about being rude to people in line rises and immediately falls back down. Stu! And then I remember my earlier conversation and it feels a lot more like: Oh. Stu.

It’s such an instant flip that for a second I don’t react. Stu pulls his arm around me in a quick attempt at a side hug, but I’m so stiff it’s more like being shoved into him. “Look who’s here.”

Bumping into him is by no means new to me. Small town, same friends, some overlap in hobbies. But this time it’s different. I promised myself that Stu and Billy would get scolded for meddling as soon as possible, but I didn’t expect run into him in public. It’s like being a parent with a child that’s misbehaving in church. You can’t do anything but redirect until you get to the car.

Stu drops his arm back to his side. “Thought you were doing something with Tatum and Sid?”

“They’re over there,” I gesture vaguely with a tilt of my head, trying to seem casual. I might not be willing to get into the whole Noel thing in front of Randy and the suburban mom trying to settle a dispute between two kids who can’t decide which movie to get, but Stu probably is. “I wouldn’t look too closely, girls’ night movies might make you sick.”

Stu misses by just a second. He does wrinkle his nose in a display of the kind of good humor I’d expect from him, but it doesn’t feel as natural. There’s nothing wrong about his reaction, it just feels lacking. Missing his usual brand of energy. “I have no issue with girls’ night movies.”

Clearly, I’ve been spending too much time with him because I get the joke instantly. Now it’s my turn to cringe. “Why do I even talk to you?”

“Because, buggsie, your life would be so boring without me.” The nickname does make my expression warp, but this time it’s more like trying to keep in a laugh than anything else. “If your only movie influence was Randy, you’d be a lot less likable.”

Randy sighs. “Keep telling yourself that.”

The words are just a little too sharp. They’re good enough friends in some senses. Not two I’d guess hang alone together, but I like to think at the end of the day they like co-existing. That doesn’t mean they don’t bicker from time to time in a way that feels different than when Randy and I fight like little kids or Stu and I fight like an old married couple too lazy to get divorced.

“No need to be bitter, dude,” Stu’s hand is back around my shoulder, “I gave you a whole five minutes.” That was a weird thing to say. Random, and not in a fun sort of way, but before I can ask, Stu’s pulling me forward. “You want to help me sneak up on Tay?”

I throw Randy a look that hopefully communicates my level of confusion and some sort of see you later. “Uh...” Stu’s already turning like I’ve answered, “Sure?”

When we’re finally closer to the shelves than the counter, Stu lets me go, his hand sliding down my arm a little before retracting. “So you go up to Tatum, talk to her, keep her distracted, and I’ll sneak up behind her.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” He’s moving along so quickly and casually, but I’m still fixed on that last comment to Randy. It wasn’t banter-y and Randy didn’t say anything back, which feels a little weird. “That last thing you said, the five minute thing?”

Stu barely pauses, head tilting in a way that feels confused. “Oh. Gave him five minutes to make a move, but you know Randy, not a closer.”

It’s said casually enough that I could think Stu’s being serious, but there’s also a hum of sarcasm in there. And what he’s saying does feel too unrealistic to not be a joke. Randy and I are completely platonic, there’s no way he sees me like that. Plus, I’d like to think that if a guy I’m around that regularly liked me in any sort of way, I’d have at least somewhat picked up on it.

“Shut up,” I shove Stu’s arm, “You’re not funny.”

He holds his hands up in defense briefly. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

It’s said casual enough that I’m finally given a second to think. The nagging voice at the back of my head is finally given the opportunity to remind me that I’m supposed to be mad at him. Or, at the very least, irritated until I can tell him off for trying to make decisions for me behind my back.

“Interesting that you mention shooting you, be--”

“Ouch,” Stu hums, a little too pointedly, “Thought we were all good, angel.” I press my lips together, staring at the ground to avoid giving him anything to latch onto. “I’ve been on best behavior. Minding my business, just here to check something out.”

I stop, a motion I think is subtle enough but Stu picks up on it immediately. He turns and grabs my wrist. The contact is sudden enough to force me to look up. Stu’s watching me, his expression seems innocent, and not in that pretend way either. There’s a hint of confusion behind his eyes. I’m not sure I entirely believe it, but I think it’s possible that what I’m mad about isn’t coming to mind. He has no reason to think I’d know about it.

His hold is firm and oddly warm and bordering on distracting.

“Stu,” Tatum’s cheery voice snaps the two of us out of our stand off.

He pulls away quickly, eyes falling on Tatum. “There’s my girl.” Stu pulls her into a hug and gives her a quick kiss. “Y/n was going to help me sneak up and surprise you, but she’s in a mood.”

Ugh. Stu has a way of dismissing any type of reaction that doesn’t work for him as me being in a mood or pouting. “I am not in a mood.”

“Give her a break.” Stu’s hands are still on her. “Y/n found out about the Noel thing.”My gaze instinctually shifts back to Stu. His easygoing grin falters. Tatum smiles at him with a coy look that I guess could be interpreted as some kind of apology. “Don’t get moody, she pulled it out of us.”

It takes him a second, but Stu eventually eases off of her. He doesn’t look as content as before, but his expression hints at nothing else besides casual annoyance. “She can’t be too mad if she’s still hanging around you and Sid.”

“I got to tell them both off already.”

Stu turns, something smug tugging his face into an almost smile. It’s infuriating. “If that’s what you’re into, babe.”

Tatum scoffs and halfheartedly smacks his shoulders. “You’ve been around long enough that I don’t have to apologize for him anymore, right?”

“Right.”

Stu lets out a breath, “Geez, you two sure act like you love me.”

I am so not in the mood to say anything nice about Stu in front of him. “Maybe if you minded your business a little more--”

“Okay,” Tatum pushes herself into the budding argument and looks at me. “Save your energy for when there’s two of them.” Good point. If I yelled at Stu and Billy separately every time they messed up, I’d be yelling constantly. Tatum’s attention shifts back to Stu, “Is he around? Sid’s around the corner.”

Stu shakes his head once. “Nah, it’s still early and he only said he might call. He’s been a little out of it.”

Billy’s out of it? And out of it enough to not be around Stu for once? It’s not like they’re literally attached at the hip but a weekend evening where both me and their girlfriends are busy and they’re not hanging out together? That in itself hints at something being wrong.

I think through the last I heard from Billy, but nothing particularly stands out. He might have briefly mentioned his dad but not in a concerning way. Not in a way that indicated he’d have to spend extra time with him or anything.

Billy has also been weirdly absent. No recent warning-less appearances at my window. Has he been going through something and I’m just too caught up in my personal issues to notice? God, this serial killer nonsense has turned me into a terrible friend.

“He okay?”

Stu’s eyes flit up to meet mine. “You might want to hold off on the scolding, but last time I checked in, yeah. Just all angsty, you know how Billy gets.”

I blink. Last time he checked in. Maybe I’m idealizing their friendship too much, but I’ve always felt like they were looking out for each other. Closer than Stu’s current reaction warrants. Or maybe I’m overthinking things and Billy’s just taking some time. He doesn’t seem the type to want to talk about fuzzy things like feelings.

“We were going to ask you guys to come over, but if he’s not up for it, that’s okay,” Tatum says, “You can still come by later, but I think you should check in on him.”

Now I’m starting to feel antsy. Like I should go check in on Billy, but I don’t even know what that’d look like. The realization that I’ve never been to Billy’s house hits hard and with no warning. Whenever we all hang out, it’s at my place or someone else’s, and when it’s the three of us we go to Stu’s and sometimes my house. The thought rubs me the wrong way, like this one thing is pulling on the threads of our friendship.

He’s one of my best friends and I can’t even say I know what his room looks like.

“I’ll probably stop by soon.”

That makes me frown. Probably. Soon.

“Oh, that reminds me.” Tatum’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “Dewey wanted me to give you a head’s up that he’ll be trying to meet with you soon. He wants to go over some....stuff.”

Ugh, this again. I can’t escape it. “Yeah. He has my number, Dewey can call whenever, but the warning was nice.”

Stu shifts back like he doesn’t quite believe what he’s hearing. “He wants to talk to her again?” He’s more offended than I am. “What? It’s not like anything’s changed.”

Tatum shrugs, “I don’t know. Dewey doesn’t give me the details.”

“Unless they have new evidence, they shouldn’t be dragging her back into it just because they don’t know shit.”

I should tell him to drop it. That this is my business and maybe it’s time we establish some firmer boundaries, but I can’t get the words to form. The whole thing feels hypocritical. I should be annoyed, but I’m not because he’s saying what I can’t.

It’s brief, but for a second it almost feels like Stu might be the closest to someone that gets what it feels like. The irony is insane, considering that there’s no way that empathy’s his strong suit.

“I don’t know. It’s not my thing.”

Tatum is understandably a little defensive, which is fair. Especially when considering our earlier conversation. This isn’t fair to her. “It’s okay.” The words feel like a flat cop out compared to Stu’s instinctual defense. “It’s not Tatum’s fault and Dewey was really nice about it last time--”

“Last time? You mean when they ambushed you at the hospital before they let you take visitors?”

My stomach knots at that. The feeling of waking up there, confused and unaware of what I’d just been through and then being made to feel like I was completely alone while Billy and Stu were waiting outside for me. “That’s not his fault.” A dry defense. “It sucks, but it’s for the greater good and it won’t take long.” I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince myself or him. “It’s okay.”

Stu half sighs. “I’m going to grab my movie and head out, maybe stop by Billy’s.” He tuns to give Tatum a brief goodbye kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll see you soon, Y/n. Make sure you get to yell at me before it builds too much.”

At that, I roll my eyes but still wave him off.

----

My eyes are on the phone again, staring down the extension on my nightstand like it’s keeping things from me.

Ugh. This is ridiculous. I snap my attention back to the homework in front of me. Some extra credit for my math class. It’s an attempt at damage control because the test I had to take the morning after being attacked by a serial killer is seriously bringing down my GPA. Too bad calc has never been my strong suit. The distraction that is my inability to move on from what Stu said is definitely not helping.

Even after Sidney, Tatum, and I left the video store, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Stu’s uncertainty and what Billy could be going through. Maybe Stu was playing down how much he knows because Billy didn’t want anyone else knowing. I could see that. Hope for that since the thought of Billy locking himself in his room and dealing with whatever it is completely alone tugs at my heart.

I could call. He might not answer, but that’s okay. It might make me feel better to just do something and it’s not like I’ve never called him. There’s also the more extreme option of showing up to his place. I’ve never been to his house, but he’s pointed it out before. Even though I physically could get there, that feels like too much. If I’ve never been over, it’s probably for a reason.

There’s also Stu. I could call him to ask about Billy. He’s more likely to tell me about how Billy’s doing than Billy. But that also feels weird for no reason. Again, it’s not like I never call them.

I glance over at the digital clock on my desk. 7:56. Okay--it’s not too late. Not weirdly late.

I stand before I can think about it too much, walking over to the phone. If it’s going to be distracting, I should just get it over with. Maybe having some kind of answer will make it easier to focus on things.

The phone rings about three times before there’s an answer. “Yeah?”

“Hey.” Okay, that one word feels super awkward for no reason. “Hi--it’s um--” Be more normal. It’s just Stu. “It’s Y/n.”

A quick breath that feels more like a laugh than it sounds. “Yeah, I figured that out.” Great, now he’s making fun of me. “I also know why you’re calling.”

“Really?”

I can feel his amusement over the phone. “You can’t stop thinking about me and want me to come over.”

I snort as soon as the words wash over me. What was I expecting? “You figured it out. This is a booty call.”

Stu sort of laughs. “Yeah? I can be over in five.”

Pressing my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing, I sit up a little more. “Loser.” I reach over for a pillow and pull it on to my lap. “Okay, so actual reason, I was trying to do something for calc, so obviously my mind was wandering and thinking about literally anything else.”

“Obviously.”

My fingers brush the fluff of the pillow’s exterior. I brush the strands flat and then back into little spikes of hair. “And at some point, I started thinking about what you said at the video store. About Billy.”

There’s a brief silence, and then another one of Stu’s breathy-accidental-laughs. “Aw, you’re worried.” Ugh. “That’s cute, angel, I’ll make sure to tell him.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t be a spoilsport.”

My nose wrinkles at that, nails smothering my pillow’s layer of fluff. “Is he okay or not?”

For a second, the only thing coming from the other side of the phone is the general static of someone’s movement. “Bossy.” I roll my eyes, but before I can tell him to spare me tonight, Stu continues, “Why didn’t you just call Billy?”

It’s a fair question, which only bugs me more. “Because there’s no way to call someone and ask if they’re okay based on a passing comment without sounding insane.”

I pinch the thin hairs of my pillows between my thumb and index finger. “And it’s less insane this way?”

Feels like it. “Kinda, yeah.”

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it. Billy’s fine, he’ll be back to his usual levels of brooding soon. Promise.” I don’t know what to make of that, so I just focus on my pillow. “It might help if you called him tomorrow. Let him sleep it off for a little longer.”

That’s probably a good suggestion. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” My eyes drift back to the still open textbook on my desk. My mom is out with Wells so I can’t even use her as an excuse to not be doing this right now. I briefly bite my tongue to give myself a second to think through what I’m considering. “You um--are you doing anything right now?” Even more awkward. Great. “I could really use an excuse to not work on calc right now.”

“Now it’s a booty call.”

Being friends with him is so annoying sometimes. “I hate you.”

“Ouch,” a brief shuffling before he speaks again, “You know I love distracting you--” I roll my eyes. “But tonight’s--”

“Shit, is Tatum over or something?” A hand flies over my mouth. Of course I’d call at a time where he had someone over and be a total mess. “I’m sorry.”

Some more static before a response, “No, it’s--” He sighs once. “Billy’s here and he’s--” Oh. My embarrassment is definitely doubling, but there’s still some relief there. At least he’s not alone. “Maybe you should come over, help cheer him up.”

“You’re kind of an asshole for not mentioning that earlier.” I push the throw pillow off my lap and let my back fall onto my cocoon of larger pillows. “And it’s fine, I wouldn’t want to overwhelm him or anything.”

“No,” Stu’s answer is quick but feels a little flat. Almost worried. “You--I think it’d be good for him to see you.” There’s still a bit of hesitance there, like Stu’s not telling me the full story. Maybe he can’t. “We rented a few movies and I think I might still have those sour gummy things you like.”

I really do love sour gummies. “Is Billy okay with it?”

“It’s my house, bug.” When I don’t say anything, Stu sighs, “Kidding. C’mon, he loves you.” I don’t know why I’m debating so much, it was my idea, but now it feels a little intrusive of me. “And we’re a lot more fun than calculus.”

“Not a high bar you’re setting there.” Stu pointedly scoffs. “Okay--if you’re sure Billy’s okay with it, I’ll be over in a few.”

“Need to go ask your mommy?”

I’m already pushing myself to my feet. “Shut up.” An ‘at least I have a parent that gives a shit’ nearly slips out and I just barely manage to bite my tongue. That’d be like reacting to a playful shove with a punch to the face. Besides, my mom’s not a factor right now. She and Wells are out to dinner with some friends. She left me with a 20 to order pizza and maybe rent a movie. “I can still not go.”

Stu chooses to ignore the (empty) threat, “See you soon, babe.”

I push open the door of my closet and search through it as quickly as possible. It’s not like I need to get dressed up to go to Stu’s, but my stained pajama pants from the ninth grade and practically threadbare tank top aren’t things I wear out of the house. Especially now that fall is making evenings a lot chillier. “I don’t get our friendship.”

“I keep you supplied with those awful sour gummies.”

I smile despite myself, grabbing something out of my closet. “That explains it.” Bending down, I pick up another article of clothing. “See you soon.”

----

“There she is.”

Stu pulls me into a hug before I can think to react. He’s always so warm and everywhere. I think it has to do with his smell. It sounds weird but he’s so consistent about it. Enough expensive laundry detergent to drown out most of the usual teen boy body spray musk to a level that’s tolerable and sharpens the slight hint of weed that seems to cling to him. Even that is balanced. Subtle unless you know to think about it. But now it’s a little more overwhelming than usual...fresher.

Like he just finished a joint. I stare at him for a second and while his eyes seem mostly normal, there’s a bit of a red tinge there. If it wasn’t for the smell of weed, I wouldn’t have noticed. “Are you high?”

The corner of Stu’s mouth pulls up into an almost smile. He’s amused. “That’s a fun way to greet me.” I give him a pointed look. “Mmm...maybe a little.” Stu extends an arm, halfheartedly punching me in the shoulder. Instead of dropping his arm like usual, Stu relaxes his fist in order to squeeze the top of my arm. “What gave me away, angel?”

“With you, it’s always a safe guess.” He sort of frowns, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Kidding. You smell like a dispensary.”

Stu squeezes my arm a little harder. “Judgy.” He tilts his head slightly. “And here I was going to offer you some.”

“No one likes me when I’m high.” That’s true enough. I get all paranoid and clingy. Randy won’t even smoke around me if we’re alone just in case.

He half scoffs. “Nah, that’s just for people that don’t know how to handle you.”

Handle me? I’m about to give him some sarcastic answer, but when my eyes meet his, the reaction freezes over. He’s staring at me with a concentration that feels more prominent than his hand on my arm. I don’t know why, but I feel the need the redirect and break the silence. “Where’s Billy?”

“In my room.” Stu swings a hand around my shoulder and starts guiding me forward. “C’mon, he’ll be happy to see you.”

I should shrug Stu off of me, but it feels easier to just let him. Besides, there are other things to worry about. From the vagueness Stu’s been handling mentions of Billy with, I half expect him to be in a straight jacket or something. “He--he does know I’m here, right?”

The only answer I get is Stu placing a hand on his bedroom door once we reach it. He releases me to push open it open. “Hey, feeling any better?” Billy doesn’t get a chance to reply before Stu continues, “Because I brought you a present.”

Weird...and kind of objectifying, but in a weird way. It’s not so much the words, but the way he’s saying them. This is definitely an ambush. Stu pushes the door open all the way before I can really react. I still make a point of smacking his arm. “Don’t make it weird.”

I turn my head towards Stu’s room. Billy is in there, sitting with his back against the headboard and he’s looking at me but there’s little recognition. It’s more like he’s seeing through me. I want to assume it’s part of some kind of side effect of being high, but I can’t quite get myself to dismiss it as something so casual.

Any fight directed at Stu evaporates into the air and morphs into this weird veil of tension. Not good or bad. Just heavy and full, bleeding through the room and into the hall where I’m still standing.

“Hi,” it feels like an attempt at cutting through the harshness, “I heard you were feeling bad so I thought I’d come back and make you feel worse.”

Billy’s eyebrows draw together slightly, like he’s considering how to react. He settles on a, “Yeah?” It feels smaller than the way he usually is.

I swallow my instinctual reaction. “Yeah--things aren’t looking too good in Iraq and everyone’s getting too comfortable with nuclear bombs.”

The corner of his mouth turns up into an almost smile. It’s not quite there, but the thawing of the icy layer behind his gaze is cracking. “Anything else?”

“I still think the Princess Diana divorce is kind of a bummer.”

Stu sighs dramatically. “Of course you’re on her side.”

“There is no other side, Charles is the worst.”

Stu walks fully into his room and practically flops onto his bed. His head hits Billy’s calf and Billy throws him a dirty look before adjusting. “Charles is next in line for the throne. That entitles him to all the girls he wants. That’s just history.”

I wrinkle my nose and halfheartedly glare at him. “He’s also probably inbred.”

Billy sits up a little further, reaching for what I’m assuming is a joint. “Definitely inbred.”

The small vouch of support is strangely easing.

Stu tilts his head to look at me briefly. “You two deserve each other.”

“Don’t pout.” Maybe not my smartest joke, but it’s too easy to pass up on.

He props his head up just to glare at me. “I can still kick you out.”

I roll my eyes and Billy wordlessly extends what he’s been smoking. Stu reaches for it absentmindedly and Billy moves his arm away. “You need to slow down.”

Stu doesn’t protest, which has to be a byproduct of his easy high. I’m so distracted by that it takes a second for it to click. If Billy isn’t handing off the joint to Stu, he’s trying to give it to me...the person who’s going to be around their mom and a cop before the night’s over.

“Can’t tonight.” I’m so going to get bullied for this, “My mom would know immediately, and then she’d kill all three of us.”

Billy sits up a little more, not fully taking his hand back but relaxing it a little. Stu drops his head back down, accidentally landing on Billy’s leg. I suppress a laugh when Billy lazily shrugs Stu off. It doesn’t work, because Stu still glares at me as he curls into himself slightly. “You could stay over, sleep it off.”

Maybe Stu’s more high than I thought. I take a step forward, feeling awkward about the distance. “I don’t see how that helps the my mom killing us all thing.”

“You could call her from my home phone, tell her you’re staying over at Sidney’s or Tay’s.” Stu doesn’t wait for my response before stretching out an arm in my direction. “Come here.”

It feels a little bit like a trap, but at the same time, standing this close to the door is probably weirder than anything Stu’s going to try. I walk forward and sit down on the edge of his bed. Stu smiles lazily and adjusts so that his legs are on my lap. They’re long. He’s basically an arachnid.

With Stu, a firm approach is usually best, but this seems harmless enough so I don’t kick him off of me. “You’re like a spider.”

He laugh-scoffs, stretching even further. “Like a daddy long legs.”

There’s a weird attempt at sultriness in his words. It’s so stupid I can’t hep the terrible laugh that comes out. “Shut up. You’re so gross.” Now I do want him off of me. He won’t move so I try dragging myself back a little. All that does is make me bump into Billy’s arm. “Sorry.”

Dismissing my apologetic look with a short wave of the hand still holding the joint, Billy sits up even more, angling himself towards me. “You should be.” It’s sarcastic, but still oddly flat, like Billy’s putting work into being a part of the conversation.

Stu, clearly feeling forgotten, softly kicks his leg. “Your sobriety’s bringing old Billy Boy back down.”

I lean back, ignoring the way my fingers brush against Billy’s. “I promise me being high would only depress him more.”

“I like you high,” Billy muses flatly, “You get all jumpy.”

I roll my eyes, trying to straighten to pull my hand back but Billy doesn’t let me get that far. His hand turns over and pulls his fingers between my own. It’s a casual enough attempt to pull me back into place, but his eyes are so quick to meet mine. There’s something almost nervous about the shift, and vaguely familiar. An uncertain, begrudging request for reassurance I’ve come to associate with people going through some sort of depressive episode.

“That was one time,” I mumble, “And it was because you guys are assholes and didn’t tell me that it was extra strong.”

Stu’s leg moves again, “It wasn’t extra strong, we just didn’t pace you.”

“Either way--assholes.”

Billy moves his thumb along my knuckles. “We’ll be nice this time.” He takes a deliberate hit and exhales the smoke in a way that lingers. I can feel the smell of it, a paranoid part of me thinking it’s already caught up in my hair and clothes and skin. Like my mom will just be able to tell already. Maybe it is already too late.

And it’d upset her. She’s already worried enough about how I’m handling all the killer stuff, if she thinks I’m acting out and smoking she’ll probably freak. This also wouldn’t be the first time I did something like this and didn’t tell her...or the first time I stayed over at a friend’s house to sleep something off.

It’s also objectively nice to be around them. Also, Billy’s whole slightly off thing is something I’ve definitely seen before. The familiarity finally clicks into place, a few memories of my mother from when I was younger. Bad ones, days in which things slipped through the cracks before my mom was diagnosed and started managing that part of herself.

“Even if you don’t smoke, you should call your mom...stay over.” Billy gets the words out stiffly, like some invisible force was trying to shove them back down his throat. “Keep me from being alone with that one.”

Stu lets out a sound that’s sounds a lot like a tired “fuck off”. The casual disapproval makes me smile.

Billy takes another, much shorter hit. I let myself observe the process. The way the smoke goes in, how he holds it in, and finally the way he forces it out. Billy wordlessly turns the joint around in a silent offering. I give in with an exhale and reach over. Billy doesn’t let me get that far, moving so that his fingers are almost to my mouth. I part my lips and let him hold the joint there as I inhale. He doesn’t give me long before taking it back. He runs his thumb along my knuckles. “Hold.” I struggle, but follow through. “Good. Now breathe.”

I let it out with a slight cough.

“There ya go,” Stu mumbles, patiently dragging his leg up my thigh. “You’ll feel better.” I wish I had more experience with smoking outside of them. If I did, I’d have a reference point to tell me if Stu’s weed is actually extra strong or not. I’m sure what he gets is considered good shit, since he definitely has the money and tolerance. “You should call your mom before you get all giggly.”

I openly frown. “I do not get ‘giggly’.”

“Yeah, you do.”

I’m not in an argumentative mood. Maybe it’s the atmosphere or the weed is already starting to cloud my judgement. I should call my mom, though. It hasn’t been that long since I left, which means she’s probably still out with Wells. It’ll be easier to just leave a message on the machine. She always checks when she gets home.

Ever since the first incident, my mom keeps a cell phone on her that’s always on, but it’s still weird to both of us. I don’t have the number fully memorized yet, it’s written on a note held to the fridge by a magnet back home...a few blocks away. The cell phone isn’t exclusively emergency, but my mom doesn’t love portable technology. She thinks they’re tacky and breed rudeness.

I tap Stu’s leg, “Up.”

Surprisingly enough, Stu listens, letting me go. I let go of Billy’s hand and reach for the extension on Stu’s nightstand. I quickly dial my number and leave a flat message. Staying over at Sid’s, have fun but not too much fun, love you and see you tomorrow.

In a moment of straight forward association, I almost went with telling my mom I was staying at Tatum’s, but I have to talk to Dewey soon and my mom will probably be there and that felt like a potential loose end.

Stu half snorts, “Love you and see you tomorrow, mom.”

I shove Stu’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Have fun but not too much fun,” Billy mumbles, a lot more subdued but just as teasing.

Rolling my eyes, I move back to the edge of the bed where I was sitting before. “It’s an inside joke.”

Stu leans forward and pinches my cheek. “That’s adorable.”

The patronization doesn’t sit well and my eyelids feel heavier than they did a second ago. “I hate you guys.”

“Clearly,” Stu breathes, reaching over and taking the joint from Billy. “Oh, Billy, forgot to tell you, Y/n’s supposed to be mad at us.” Billy tilts his head a little too far to one side like that’s news enough for him to be curious. “Tay told her about the Noel thing.”

Billy feels imbalanced, head leaning one way and spine straight. His eyes harden over again. “Really?” He takes my hand again, this time a lot less softly. “Over that asshole?” I let him run his knuckles over my hand again, even though this time it feels a lot less soothing. “If none of your friends like a guy, that usually says something about the guy.”

I’m sure there’s some kind of joke I could spin. Maybe about where he learned that one from. Get that from Cosmo? But the bordering on defensive look behind Billy’s eyes is overbearing and messing with my head. Stu is seriously in danger for bringing this up right now.

“It’s not about the guy,” I manage, “It’s about...” All the points I had feel a lot less concrete under Billy’s scrutiny...or maybe it’s the weed. Or both. I swallow, dropping my gaze to my lap as I try to really think. Okay, it’s definitely both. “Timing and boundaries.” It feels fractured. “Like even if a guy totally sucks, you can’t go over my head about it.”

Stu lets out a sigh, dropping his head onto one of his pillow’s. I glare openly. This is all his fault. Why bring it up now? Billy was just starting to act a little more like himself. “I don’t know what you see in him.” Ugh. It’s like he’s not even hearing me. “Especially with the way he talked about Casey.”

That last part hits its intended goal. Stu’s staring at the ceiling, so I can’t see his expression, but he seems to take my silence as a win. I don’t know Noel as well as they do, but he did talk about Casey at that party and it wasn’t exactly kind.

I squeeze what I can grab of the comforter like that will tether me here. It half works but it does nothing to ease the tightening in my chest. The memories mix uneasily with the start of my high. The dip of panic doesn’t suit the way my body wants to feel and it all blends together in a way that leaves me on edge and a little nauseous.

There’s the sound of someone moving, but I barely pick up on it. Billy smacks the side of Stu’s head. “Too much, asshole.”

Stu throws Billy an offended look before craning his neck to look at me. I must look as off as I feel, because Stu does sit up. “Shit,” he pushes himself back, “Sorry. I didn’t think--”

“You never think.” The words are pointed, but not completely angry. If I was feeling any better, I would’ve laughed. He slowly reaches forward and I don’t stop him from prying my fingers away from the sheets. “Your trip going a little bad?” I nod. “Don’t think about it.” Easier said than done. “You could end up like Stu the one time he smoked too much while watching one of those old horror movies where the special effects are basically held up by a string.”

That cracks at the panic a little. “What did he do?”

“Convinced himself that it was real and we were the ones that were off.”

I almost laugh. “Actually?”

“Shut up,” Stu sighs, a little bitter but not actually mad.

Billy ignores him, “Actually.” He turns my hand over carefully before running his fingers over the thin scar on my palm and up my wrist. “So you’re already doing better than him.”

For a second, I let myself study Billy. The wisps of hair falling forward, the slight pinch between his eyebrows, his focused expression. Billy almost always holds himself with a certain tenseness. Whether that’s force of habit or natural to him, I’m not sure. Maybe that’s why he gets along so well with Stu. They balance each other.

“Are you...” I don’t know where I’m going with this. “Are you feeling any better?”

His expression briefly clouds, pulling into something much more blank. He drops his gaze and for a second I feel like I might need to take it back. “Yeah--yeah, don’t worry.” Again, easier said than done. Billy clears his throat almost immediately after, like that will erase the fact that he actually responded.

“Good.” It doesn’t sound overly positive, but he hasn’t convinced me. “I’ve missed you, a little.” That feels a lot more real.

Billy angles his head downwards, almost smiling. “Only a little?”

“It’s not like you haven’t been around at all.” He traces an invisible line up my wrist. “Maybe more than a little, anyway.”

“Aw,” Stu hums, his hand finding a place on my back. He leans forward and rests his head on my shoulder. “You two are adorable.” I’m not really given a chance to answer before Stu lets out a sigh that I feel against my neck, “Don’t be mad.”

Honestly, I’m not feeling any anger. I’m a little annoyed at him and frustrated that I’m still not normal. That’s all there is. It’s too tiring to turn into anger. “’M not mad,” it feels like a confession, “A little annoyed at you, but not more than usual.”

He breathes a sarcastic, “Haha” into my shoulder.

With no warning, I start to unweave myself from them. I think they’re too confused to ask until I’m actually standing.

“Where are you going, angel?”

I don’t really know, so I can’t really answer. Stu’s room isn’t super familiar. I’ve been in here a couple times, most of them brief. I take a second to really take in the space. A lot of posters, the ones that aren’t directly bloody movie posters feature practically naked women and some combine the two. It fits him.

“Getting a feel,” I decide on, “You can tell a lot about a person based on their room.”

Stu moves to the edge of his bed, grinning at my focus. “Really?”

I move to pull open the drawer of his nightstand. “Mhm.”

“You’re not going to like anything you find in there.” He places a hand on the front of drawer but doesn’t stop me.

It takes me a second too long to realize what he’s getting at. By then, I’ve already taken in a cover of a magazine with a model that’s wearing even less than the girls on the posters, a box of condoms, a surprisingly neatly stacked set of polaroids, an old deck of cards, and a few random odds and ends all crammed in there.

My nose wrinkles, but I’m too distracted by the polaroids to make fun of him. I can only see the top one, but it’s innocent enough, an accidental snapshot that sort of looks like a blurry person on a couch.

“Polaroids?” I pick them out of the drawer and flip to the next one. A small lump that looks like a cat in Stu’s living room. Weird, I’ve never seen one in his house and he’s never mentioned having a pet. Maybe these are old pictures. Before I can snoop any further, Stu pulls the stack of photos away from me. “You’re no fun.”

He rolls his eyes as he moves the first photo back into place. “You’re nosy.” I don’t say anything because I’m not so high that I’m clueless. This is a little weird of me, but I can’t help the impulse. “What if the next picture had been me naked?”

“You take naked pictures of yourself and keep them in your nightstand?”

Stu intentionally ignores my laughter. “You don’t need pictures for that, baby, you can see the real thing.”

My laughter picks up again. “Yeah? Let’s go right now.”

At that, Stu does crack a bit of a smile. “Let’s make Billy strip first.”

“Deal,” I mumble through another laugh.

Billy drops his head onto a pillow, “Fuck off.”

I turn my attention back to the card deck and dig them out with my nail. “Any naked pictures hidden in here or am I good?”

“No promises.” With that as my warning, I begin to shuffle the cards absentmindedly. “Why? You wanna play strip poker?”

Ignoring him, I move back to my previous position on the edge of the bed. “Think I’m good.”

I drag the nail of my thumb along the edge of the cards and focus on the sound of them. Billy nudges my knee with his. I look up as he extends his arm, silently asking for the cards. I hand them over without thinking much about it. Billy begins to actually shuffle in a way that would fit Vegas.

He has to notice my mesmerized stare, but he says nothing. “Do you actually know how to play anything?”

My mom briefly worked at a casino when I was in the first grade and she’d have to bring me in sometimes, but I retained nothing. “Not really.”

That starts something. A process that should have been short and easy. Billy trying to explain different versions of poker and Stu trying to trick me, but only sometimes so I couldn’t know to for sure not trust him. It’s a mess of laughter and a refreshing lack of angst. Every once in awhile, someone insists that a loser has to take a drag from a joint, so everyone’s progressively getting worse. I’m pretty sure Stu’s cheating somehow, but I have no proof and I’m too out of it to get any.

It’s so lighthearted and genuinely fun that I’m fighting against the heaviness of my eyelids. It can’t be that late, but I’m already starting to feel drowsy. I’ve finally been given good cards, so I really need to get it together. “I won.”

Stu scoffs, eyebrows drawing together as he eyes the cards I just set down. “No--that’s not--”

“I won,” a yawn cuts my sentence in half, “Don’t be a loser about it.”

Stu picks up all the cards, ignoring my protests. He’s already mixed me up a couple of times. “I can let you have this one, because you’re--”

“Because you have to.”

Billy turns his ankle, tapping his foot against my leg. “Don’t be mean about it.”

That was nowhere near mean. “Dramatic, both of you.”

Stu’s mouth falls open in a mock gasp as he continues to gather cards. I don’t know what he’s doing until he drops them all back into his drawer and shuts it. He then walks towards his dresser, pulls out a T-shirt, and tosses it in my direction. “After all I’ve done for you.”

I pick up the T-shirt and fold it onto my lap but make no move to go to the bathroom to change. “I don’t want to go to sleep.”

“You’re half asleep already.” Billy ignores the dirty look I give him. “Just change in case you fall asleep.”

Stupid voice of reason. I scratch the back of my wrist and decide to give in. If for no other reason than the fact that Stu’s shirt is almost weirdly soft. Rich people must have access to different kinds of fabric. I reluctantly get up and find Stu’s bathroom.

I change quickly and take a second to make sure Stu gave me a long enough T-shirt. Thankfully, he did, so I don’t have to feel extra awkward about anything. I fold my clothes and bring them back with me.

“Looks nice on you, babe.”

Drowsiness hits harder without any distractions. I blink, unsure on how to respond. Stu’s always a flirt with everyone, but it feels a little weird to react to it while standing in his room at night in one of his T-shirts. “It’s the rich guy cotton.”

The corner of his mouth turns up. “And those legs.”

“Shut up.”

Billy turns onto his side, fluffing his pillow. “Go to sleep before he gets worse.”

“Yeah.” The two of them look comfortable, all settled. “I’ll crash on the couch.”

Stu props his head up on an elbow. “You don’t wanna do that. Living room’s creepy at night and you’ve smoked too much. You’ll get scared.”

“I’m not 12.”

“It’s safer here, you wouldn’t be alone if something happened.”

Ugh, Stu can never resist trying to get me paranoid. “Nothing’s going to happen.” That’s what I thought when I was at Casey’s.

“Just get in bed,” Billy mumbles, half asleep, “I know how this argument goes with the two of you.” When I don’t move, Billy sighs, “If I fall asleep and you get freaked out, I’m not helping.”

Stu lays back down, “He means it. He’s an asshole when he’s tired.” He pauses for so long, I briefly think he might have fallen asleep. “...’S not a big deal.”

True. It wouldn’t even be the first time we all fell asleep in the same bed. And Billy’s slept over in my room enough times for that to barely phase me. “Yeah.”

I walk over towards the bed. “Drink water,” Billy mumbles the words with his eyes still shut. I look over at the nightstand and there’s a glass there that wasn’t there before. I drink a few long sips until Stu sits up to steal the glass from me.

Rude. “Give me--”

He downs the rest of it in a few gulps, “Go to bed.”

I roll my eyes, but unfortunately do listen. Stu pushes me towards the middle, ignoring my surprised huff. I smack his arm before covering myself with his bed sheets. I barely get to reflect on how much of an asshole move that was before I fall asleep.

----

A/n fun fact, there’s a moment in here where Y/n came superrr close to accidentally finding out who Ghostface is :)

Taglist: @cole22ann @womenarecannibals @fand0mskullfa1ry @princessleah129 @i-amnotokaywiththis @fvcking-gxddess @suckmyass-things @im-better-than-your-newborn @michibuni @bigenargy @marli-lavellan @mushy-mushroom04 @neenieweenie @lone-ray @the-ruler-of-death @andthevillainshallrises @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @dixbolik-bby @thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth @peachycupotea @my5tica1ien @agustdeeyaa @astrial @3ll0kittylvr420 @zoleea-exultant @slaypussypop-21 @aonungs-tsahik @finnydraws @slytherhoes @vxarak @xofeeeeelsxo @thewayiknowyou @yourslashersfinalgirl @winterridinghood @maggieleighc

#scream #Scream 1996 #scream imagine #scream x reader #Stu Macher #stu macher x reader #Billy Loomis #billy loomis x reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #Poly! Ghostface x Reader #poly!ghostface #slasher #slasher x reader #final girl fic

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thebearer · 8 months

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This anon has haunted me, but at lips apology, if he tries to propose bc “it’s the right thing to do” for you and the baby. He doesn’t want the responsibility but deep down he wants to have that responsibility bc always wanted to be a dad and husbands but scared

here's my thought on it.

he does it bc it's the "right thing to do" like it's just what you do, in his opinion. he doesn't want to be a bum who knocks someone up and doesn't marry them (his jaded opinion), but he also does love you and is sick at the idea of someone else being in yours and the baby's life that's not him. he's just fucked in the head really by this.

when you say no he's floored.

"wha-what do you mean? no?"

"no." you shake your head. "you don't really want to marry me."

"the fuck are you- i wanna fuckin' marry you, alright? i bought this fuckin' ring-"

"-you bought me a ring because i'm pregnant with your kid." you snap. "not because you want to marry me. not because you're in love with me."

lip is flustered bc... i mean, you're not wrong. you're not all the way right, but you're definitely not wrong.

"when you want to marry me because you want to marry me, and not because of the baby, then i'll think about it." you look down at the small diamond ring. "but i also wouldn't marry you right now, anyways, because i'm still not over all that shit you said."

"jesus, i told you i was sorry." lip sighs, closing his fist around the ring. "and-and ian is gettin' me in with his shrink to-to work this shit out like you said-"

"-and that's great, and i'm very proud of you." you say sincerely. his heart swells at the praise. "but that doesn't take back what you did."

lip feels like he could scream. furious at himself. "you wanna make it up to me? prove to me your sorry. prove to me you didn't mean what you said, and you're gonna be a good dad." you look down at his closed fist with the ring inside. "show me why i should marry you, because right now... i don't want to."

it's mean. it's cruel. it's harsh. but it's exactly what lip needed to hear. he worked double time, swallowing his pride and going to the "damn shrink" to figure out why he had control issues, why he coped the way he did (shocker: the majority of it was neglect from his parents, i know we're allllll surprised). he worked hard to prove that he wanted to be there for you, for the baby, and he did. he really did.

and he worked even harder to treat you the way you deserved. to show you that he loved you, and he really did. he spoiled you, the ways he could. home-cooked meals in your tiny apartment, baby proofing it, going to your birthing classes and every appointment. he would take you out on dates- real dates. hold your hand in the grocery, sweet kisses in the kitchen, let you use him as your own personal pregnancy pillow at night (when he finally got to sleep back in the bed with you).

lip was a good dad. you knew he would be. you knew from the moment the doctor told you it was a boy, his eyes shining with tears he refused to shed. something flipped in him. he'd been trying hard regardless but then, it felt real for both of you. lip didn't want to be frank, nothing like him. he upped his meetings with his sponsor, with his counselor and shrink. lip worked hard to unlearn years of trauma, to be better for freddie- be better for you. he slipped sometimes, always extra hard on himself when he did, but he was a good dad.

so when he asked you, when freddie was two and you'd grown together in every way- as parents and as a couple. you said yes. you knew he wanted to marry you for you. he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, he told you that, rambled words while he was on one knee in front of you. you were glad you didn't accept his proposal the first time, truly, because it wouldn't have been nearly as great as this one. it was well worth the wait.

#thebearer #bearblahs #lip gallagher #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher x pregnant!reader #dad!lip gallagher x mom!reader #dad!lip gallagher #freddie gallagher #shameless #shamless us #lip gallagher fluff #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher angst #lip gallagher blurb #thebearerblurbs

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tannieastrology · 2 years

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Astrology Observations #2

After a long hiatus i'm back with a few observations I've made in the time I was gone. Hope you like it:)

🥀 Neptune in the 5th house may frequently get into a unhealthy one sided love if they don't learn to stop ignoring the red flags in the person their interested in. The presence of Neptune in this house makes you delusional towards your interest and blurs the line between love and obsession. It's the fact that yall chase after people who are obviously not good for you in the first place. Remember guys, reciprocation is very important in love and if you're not their number 1 then they shouldnt be yours either. My advice would be to stop making scenarios in your head and to take them for what they show you NOT what they could be. Learn to assert your boundries and stop romanticizing people who do the bare minimum you deserve better.

🥀 Pisces Venus and getting scammed by their own love interests smh. People who have this placement need to be careful with who they get involved with. My cousin had this placement and she was dating this guy from Australia who was trying to come to America. They were in a relationship for 5 years and when they got a court marriage he got the green card and ran away. So basically he used her for her own benefit and when he got what he wanted he left. Most men she got with ended up treating her so bad but they seemed pretty nice at first. That's what Neptune does. Wherever it's in your chart could be where you are taken advantage of and easily decieved so be extra cautious.

🥀 Mars in the 12th house have terrible sleeping schedules. They're the type to stay up during night and sleep during the day and then take their anger out on everyone because they're sleep deprived. This is me telling you right now to fix your sleeping schedule and even though you might find more peace at night humans are not nocturnal. Who knows y'all not getting the right amount of sleep could be the reason why you feel so depressed.

🥀 Capricorn moons when are you gonna stop running away from your emotions. Life would be so much easier if you just learned to deal with your trauma and forget about the expectations that your loved ones have for you. I know life is unfair to you and your parents dont give you the love you deserve, but that doesnt mean you dont deserve to be happy. It's hard for people to love you if you push them away. Having a crush on someone with this placement, if underdeveloped, is not fun especially if he's a guy because they dont understand their emotions and dont put effort to understand them either. However, these are some of the most loyal, hardworking, mature people I have ever known when developed. They'll make you feel safe and loved in their arms if the truly love and care for you. They're good people but just have a wounded innerchild, that's it. Deep down I know y'all are softies so stop hiding it. Not everyone is out to get you I promise . Also please consider therapy.

🥀 Lilith in Scorpio women give maneater energy for some reason. Its hard to explain but they have this allure to them that people cant resist. Ex- Beyonce, Anne Hathaway, Taylor Swift, Briggete Bardot, Vanessa Paradis.

🥀 Venus square ascendant people I swear your beautiful stop thinking you're ugly. Sometimes you guys dont see your own beauty and the effect you have on people. You have the ability to turn heads when you walk into a room, but you dont see that because of the unbelievably high standards you've set for yourself. You're beautiful but the way you percieve what beauty is, doesnt align with your appearance or reality. Maybe it couldve been because people always commented on your appearence growing up or you feel pressured by society. Remember that beauty is the eye of the beholder. Just because you think your ugly doesnt mean that you actually are, youre just not your own type.

🥀 Mars square Uranus combined with Venus/Moon to Pluto is the epitome of enemies to lovers in synastry. Its like you hate them so much but have this unbelievable urge to slam them against the wall and kiss them. That person will annoy the shit out of you but the attraction is always underlying there and it gets hard to ignore. If you wanna a healthy relationship though, I would steer clear from this synastry because its toxic.

🥀 Lilith in the 2nd house/Taurus are what I would imagine a material girl to be. They love luxury things and will find a way to get what they want if they set their eye on something. Also they might get a certain job or enter a career just because it pays well. They're pretty hedonistic in general and love sex or anything Taurus/Venus related. Alot of the women here have nicely shaped bodies and lips even if theyre on the skinnier side. However, they could have eating disorders and body dysmorphia.

🥀 Leo Venus are so cute you guys remind me of a little puppy begging for attention:/ The thing is, yall are too flighty for my liking. A guy I know liked 2 girls at the same time and one of them even like him back and she asked him out, but he said no because he like the other one more like dude??? The other girl even had boyfriend but still he said no. Then he had the audacity to complain about the fact that he's never been in a relationship before. These people are more in love with the idea and attention of love then actually being in a relationship. As a Capricorn Venus this placement is a red flag sorry.

🥀 Saturn square Venus in synastry is so sad to watch its literally right person wrong time as a placement. The couple I was talking about above had this placement and they didnt end up together because they liked each other at different times and everyone ships them too but it just never happened. The girl was the Venus and the guy was Saturn.

🥀 Virgo Mars are secretly little freaks and if they have aspects from Saturn it could be someone who's into bdsm. I met a guy with this placement and he used to call me master and ma'am. For some reason i could sense the sexual undertone in his voice but idk. Virgos in general are the definition of gentlemen/lady in the streets freaky in the sheets, so keep your eye on them.

🥀 Taurus and Cancer together in the big six gives major milf energy.

🥀 Capricorn and Virgo together in the big six gives dilf energy.

🥀 I hate stereotyping placements in astrology but damn Gemini Venus men are fuckboys sorry. My bestfriend has this placement and he told me he like 4 girls at once. Also he dated all of his best friends and while one of them was in a relationship he asked her out while she was dating the other guy. He got rejected but still. I think this applies to guy with a Gemini Sun though because I've observed that Cancer Sun Gemini Venus guys behave differently.

🥀 Leo risings are not as confident as youd think. People I know with this placement are super insecure and have a love hate relationship with their hair.

🥀 10th and 11th house synastry is seriously so slept on. If you want a ride or die lover go find someone you have this synastry with. Major power couple vibes.

That's all for today don't hesitate to give feedback:)

#astrology #neptune #pisces venus #capricorn moon #scorpio #lilith astrology #mars in 12th house #synastry #lilith in the houses #venus in leo #virgo mars #saturn #astrology notes #astrology observations #my observations #random observations

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gloomysoup · 4 months

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when the world stops turning (my heart stops beating) - pt. 3

happy holidays to all who celebrate! as it stands, i'm posting this on christmas eve after a full evening with my dad's mom and his siblings and all my cousins, before i go to bed to deal with even more family all day tomorrow (we have my mom's side in the morning for brunch and then my dad's dad's house in the late afternoon/evening) BUT i did FINALLY get this part figured out and i couldn't wait to share it! i would apologize, but we all know i'm not actually sorry... oops

anyway i hope you all enjoy it!

ao3 pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4

cw: mentions and discussions of drug use, addiction, sobriety, relapse, referenced overdose, etc. y'know, the usual

The first time Steve ever got high, he was fourteen. Tommy had scored some weed off one of the older basketball guys, Steve’s parents were gone for a weekend. It was perfect. Steve, Tommy, and Carol laid back on the roof of Steve’s childhood home, overlooking the blue glow of the pool and the line of trees beyond the yard, passing a joint back and forth. It was a warm buzz, making his head go all fuzzy. It was nice. Until it wasn't, at least. He liked the feeling of being high. What he didn't like was what came after.

The comedown from that first high was rough, to say the least. Carol was fine; Steve didn't know why it didn't affect her as badly. Steve and Tommy, however, were not so lucky.

It was a while before he ever smoked weed again. He never did anything more than that, though there were plenty of opportunities. And he never smoked alone. It was always parties, or hang outs with Tommy and Carol. It slowed down when he met Nancy. She wasn't a fan of drugs, and always asked him to stop. He never could, but he definitely cut back. Then Nancy shattered his heart, so he picked it back up again. Started smoking on his own. Anything to chase the free feeling of the high. He spent so many nights trying to escape his nightmares and heavy thoughts. He smoked until his head was floating in the clouds. He kept the high until he ultimately passed out, hard, into a fairly dreamless sleep.

And then Starcourt happened.

That was a different high. Slower. It was loose lips, but firm thought. Tethered, but not quite there. It took longer to hit the peak, to really float. When he finally hit it, it was the best he'd felt in a long time. And then he came crashing down. It was the worst he'd felt in his life, aside from the time Billy bashed his head in with a plate. It sucked. It ruined weed for him, if he was honest. Every time he tried after that, his body panicked. His brain would get fuzzy, he'd start to float, and then he'd seize up. His brain would shock him back into reality. He vowed, with the help of Robin, to never get high again. He would finally quit. It wasn't worth the panic attacks and anxiety and trauma response that came with it anymore. He was successful for a while, at least. He'd been sober for almost a year.

That didn't last long after the final battle with Vecna. He and Eddie were friends. They were starting to grow into a little more than that. Steve’s nightmares were awful again. His body was sore and his scars stretched uncomfortably every time he moved. It was Eddie who initially suggested weed, even though he had stopped smoking himself.

“It's actually a pretty good method for pain management,” he said with a shrug. “You just gotta be careful about it. Stick to the natural stuff.”

Eddie didn't know that Steve was sober. Steve never told him. He'd been itching for a good high again anyway; something to clear his head, take some of the pain away, get a good night’s sleep for once. Eddie had handed him an extra joint, leftover from his own stash that he hadn't touched in weeks. Steve went home that night and lit a joint for the first time in almost a year. His sobriety went down the drain, just like that. The worst part? He didn’t even regret it. Not one bit.

He didn't tell Robin. He couldn't. He knew she'd be disappointed in him. She would go back to watching him like a hawk, following him around, and never leaving him alone long enough to even think about getting high. She'd spend every night with him, just like she did those first few months before. He couldn't let her do that to herself again. Not when she was doing so well with Vickie. He wasn't going to ruin her good thing with his own problems. So Robin never knew he relapsed. And Eddie never knew that he was supposed to be sober. He never told a soul.

Steve carried it with him for years. Every time he lit a joint instead of a cigarette, he thought about Robin. Two puffs in, he wasn’t thinking about her anymore, just how nice it felt. He smoked until his head was empty and floating, and then he smoked some more. He smoked by himself a lot. Then the band got recognized, and they were all smoking again too. Steve would smoke with them any chance he got. He never told anyone the secrets he was hiding. He never told anyone the weed wasn’t quite enough anymore. He was perfectly content with what he had, sure, but some deep part of him itched for more. He got cross-faded more times than he could count, just to feel something more.

His first experience with harder drugs was at a party with the band. Their manager had gotten them an invite for promotional purposes. There were supposed to be some high-end producers and such they wanted to network with, and Steve always went with them to these sorts of things. It was innocent, at first. Steve stepped out on the back deck of whatever big shot artist’s house they were at to light a cigarette while Eddie talked music with some people in the living room.

He took a deep inhale, feeling the nicotine saturate his lungs before he blew out the smoke. What he really wanted was some weed, but Eddie had it all on him and Steve didn't want to bother them. This was good for the band. They needed this. Still, a cigarette couldn't only do so much for the itch under Steve’s skin. He had a beer on the railing in front of him, but that's not what he needed. He took another inhale, holding it, hoping it would keep him satisfied until Eddie brought him a joint. It wasn't really working, but Steve was trying to convince himself otherwise.

“Mind if I join you?”

Steve turned to see a slightly older man standing in the doorway. He vaguely recognized him as another musician, but couldn't place his name. “No, not at all. Honestly, I could probably use the company.”

The man nodded and stepped onto the deck, closing the sliding glass door behind him. He took up a place beside Steve, holding out his hand. “Billy.”

Steve laughed at the irony and took his hand. “Of course you are. I'm Steve.”

Billy gave him a curious look. “Something wrong with my name, Steve?”

He shook his head. “No, not at all. It's just a little funny, I guess. I knew a guy named Billy once. Broke a plate over my head, gave me a nasty concussion, and then he died a few months later in a fire at the mall I used to work at. The universe likes to have a good laugh, apparently.”

“Ah, yeah, I'd probably feel the same way then.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a joint, gesturing toward Steve. “Mind if I light?”

“Only if you share,” Steve replied with a laugh before taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Of course, man.” Steve watched Billy pull a lighter from his pocket and light the joint, taking a puff before holding it out toward Steve.

Steve stubbed out his cigarette on the wood railing before taking the joint between his fingers. He took a deep drag, holding it for one, two, three seconds, and then breathing it out slowly. He looked up at the stars as he passed it back. “God, that's exactly what I needed.”

“Tough day?”

Steve shrugged. “More like a tough life. I'd usually be smoking by now anyway, but my, uh, friend has all the weed on him. He's busy talkin’ shop with some other music guys in there, and I didn't wanna bother them. It's important to him.”

“Not your scene then, I take it?”

Steve huffed, taking the joint back between his fingers. “I'm more… emotional support for his band, I guess. Though, I'm not sure they ever needed it. They do just fine on their own.”

“I'm sure they appreciate it anyway.” Billy glanced back at the house as he took the last drag before putting it out. “What do you say we go back in, Steve? I know a guy upstairs with something a little better than weed, if you're interested.”

“Hell, at this point, I might try just about anything. I don't do needles, though. Bad experiences and all.”

Billy laughed and motioned with his head. “Promise, no needles unless you ask.”

“Lead the way, then.”

Steve was floating on the best high of his life. He didn't know how much time had passed, but he didn't really care. He hung out upstairs with Billy and some other industry people for God only knows how long, smoking and laughing and snorting lines of cocaine. Eventually, Steve stumbled his way back downstairs with Billy, laughing the whole way. He bumped into Eddie, physically running into his back where he was scanning the house.

Eddie turned and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist, holding him up. “There you are. I was wondering where you went.”

“Eddie!” Steve exclaimed, grinning brightly. He turned to Billy, who had his arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Billy, Billy, this is him. This is Eddie.”

“Oh, yeah! So you're Eddie! You've- you've got a good one, man. Steve's such a riot.”

Eddie seemed taken aback at first, looking between the two of them. His eyebrows furrowed as he took in Steve’s slightly disheveled appearance and wide eyes. “Steve, are you high right now?”

Steve giggled, leaning his face into Eddie’s neck. “Soooo high, baby. I feel great.”

“Alright, I think it's time we go home,” Eddie declared. “Come on, let's go find the guys.”

“But I don't wanna leave,” Steve whined with a pout. “I wanna dance, Eddie. Can't we dance? Please?”

“We can dance at home, Steve. Come on. It's time to go.”

“No fun,” he huffed.

“Steve, look, here, I’ll give you my number,” Billy said, still leaning heavily against him. “You call me. We’ll hang out again sometime, yeah?”

“Definitely. Definitely do that.”

It took Eddie fifteen minutes to drag Steve through the house and track down the rest of his friends. When they found the rest of them, Jeff frowned at Steve.

“What's up with him? Is he okay?”

“Apparently the whole time we were talking to that producer, my boyfriend was getting high off his ass with Billy Corgan. I'm sure he’ll be fine once he sleeps it off.”

“Wait, Billy Corgan?” Gareth asked, eyes wide. “Like the Billy Corgan of The Smashing Pumpkins?”

“Apparently they're best friends now.”

“Oh, yeah, Billy’s great,” Steve said through another bout of giggles, leaning all his body weight on Eddie. He cupped his hand around his mouth to whisper, but it wasn't really a whisper. “He knows who has all the good shit, guys.”

“Okay, he is really high,” Grant said. “Guess that's our cue to leave?”

“I don't care if you guys want to stay, but I'm taking Steve home. Just didn't wanna leave without letting you know.”

When Steve and Eddie finally got back to the apartment, Steve sloppily kissed Eddie in the entryway. His hand slipped under Eddie’s shirt, but Eddie pulled him back.

“Baby, no, not tonight,” he murmured. He pushed a lock of hair from Steve’s face. “You're too high for that right now. You need sleep.”

“Want you, though,” Steve whispered, ducking down to suck at his jaw and throat.

“Steve, no. I'm serious. You need to sleep this off.”

Steve huffed, a pout on his full lips. Eddie kissed him softly before wrapping his arm around his waist and leading him to the bedroom. Steve slumped back against the bed immediately upon impact. Eddie carefully and gently undressed him before tucking him into bed. He brought a water bottle and some meds for the morning, placed them on the bedside table, and then changed his own clothes. Steve was out like a light, snoring softly. Eddie held him all night, unable to sleep. He'd never seen Steve get that high before. Part of him worried it was more than weed, but he trusted Steve. He'd ask him in the morning, but he wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. He didn't think Steve would do more than that. He didn't think he had to worry.

The next morning, Eddie made sure Steve was safe and okay before bringing it up.

“So, last night,” he said over breakfast, poking around at the scrambled eggs he'd whipped up for them.

“Oh, right! How'd it go with that, what was he, a producer?”

“It was fine, but that's not what I'm talking about, Steve.”

Steve frowned. “What is it then?”

Eddie swallowed, not looking at Steve. “You were really high when I finally found you after you wandered off. I need you to be honest, Steve. What did you take?”

“It was weed, Ed. Strong weed, but just weed.”

“You promise?” He looked up, meeting Steve’s eyes. “You promise it's just weed, Steve? I can’t- You have to understand how dangerous that other shit is. I can't lose you to it.”

Steve smiled so easily, like he wasn't lying right to Eddie’s face. Like he didn't have a baggie of coke in the pocket of his jeans, which were laying on the bedroom floor. “I promise that's all it is.”

And Eddie believed him, like an idiot. He trusted him, because it was so easy to fall for those eyes and that smile. He didn't think Steve would ever do anything like that. He had no reason to believe otherwise. He didn't know that Steve had been sober for almost a year before that spring break from Hell.

Steve lied for years, to everyone. He was good at it. It was easy. He didn't even think twice before the lies tumbled past his lips. The problem was how simple it was to score. How easy. He never had to turn far. He was listed as a personal assistant to the band. He was handing drugs to pass on to them all the time, but Corroded Coffin didn't do any of that stuff. They always turned it down. They knew what it did to people, especially in the industry. It was a dangerous thing. Every time the members ignored the drugs being passed to them, Steve slipped them in his pocket instead. No one ever noticed. The more fame and recognition the band got, the easier it became for Steve to score whatever he wanted. Pills, tabs, cocaine, heroin, the works. He never strayed far from coke and pills, still wary of needles from the Russians, but it was a high he couldn't get with weed alone. It was addicting. He wouldn't have been able to stop on his own even if he wanted to.

He snuck off to do a line or two every chance he got. If the band’s backs were turned for even a few seconds, he was popping a couple of colorful pills. He smoked weed every other night, whenever Eddie wanted to smoke. He smoked on his own occasionally, slowing down his body through the rush of a good high. It was nothing like he’d ever experienced before, and he couldn't get enough of it.

Then he was at the biggest show of Eddie’s career. Sold out at Madison Square Garden. Roaring crowds, electricity flowing through Steve’s veins. He was only going to do a quick line. He just wanted to keep the energy, soothe the itch. One line turned to two, then three, then some pills. Then everything went dark.

The first thought to cross his mind as his vision tunneled and his body began to shut down was that he should have told them the truth. He never should have lied to Eddie, or Robin. He never should have taken that joint from Eddie all those years ago. He should still be sober. But he wasn't, and now he was going to die, and it's his own fault. He fell to his vices. He didn't talk to Robin, like he always promised he would do if the urges came back. Instead, he got into the harder stuff, and now it was going to kill him. The clock had finally run out. The Reaper was knocking on his door.

That would be the end of Steve Harrington.

-----

tag list: @mugloversonly @djohawke @acowardinmordor @hallucinatedjosten @geekyfifi @slowandsteddie @estrellami-1 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @canmargesimpson

(if you saw this upload twice no you didn't. i definitely didn't forget the tag list)

#gloomysoup #gloomysoup ao3 #gloomysoup writes #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #stranger things fic #steve harrington angst #steddie au #steddie angst #steddie fanfiction #tw drugs #tw addiction #tw overdose

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