#which makes it SO MUCH MORE GROSS AND RUDE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

deceitfuldevout · 9 months

Text

Highest Bidder

Dark!Robert Fishcher x Sugarbaby!Reader

Word Count: +3,066

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Loss of virginity, Human auction, Housewife kink, Breeding kink, Misogynistic remarks, Insults, Just plain abuse, Robert is a warning himself.

Author's Note(s): I have been thinking about this for a hot minute. Inspired by @mypoisonedvine Robert Fischer fic go check it out!!

You couldn't stop checking your phone for an update. He was supposed to be here an hour ago. Did he bail? Part of you had hoped so. It would make things a lot easier. Years ago, if someone had told you that you'd be auctioning off your virginity, well, the first thing you'd do is laugh in their face.

That was before everything went to shit. Your parents ended up in neck-deep debt trying to pay off your college, borrowing money from some sleazy loaner company. Soon having no choice but to debate on filing for bankruptcy. Everything they've worked hard for, gone. You didn't want them to worry about that anymore.

This wasn't a huge deal for you. Personally, you've never had any luck with guys and would rather get this over with. Growing up you were always the awkward, ugly duckling of the friend group, so a boyfriend was out of the picture. Only sharing an innocent kiss with a childhood friend, but that was a long time ago. It was only after you reached your 20's where you began to bloom.

He'd bought your outfit and covered the cost of everything. He wants you ready and waiting for him, all wrapped up like a pretty present. He's very particular about these things, even making a list of errands to run before the big day. He requested for photos of the hair and makeup you'd be wearing for the evening. Scolding you every time you did something he disliked. He wouldn't even try hiding it. You reread his previous text message: Change the makeup. It makes you look like a cheap whore. You scoff at the response...how rude.

Even before all of this he would try to test your patience. Sending messages like, 'Do you know who I am? You should be more grateful that I'm giving you this much attention," or "Anyone would be lucky to be in your position,' which made you physically roll your eyes. This morning, he had given you a call as a reminder of where you would meet. He send you the hotel address with money for a cab.

He made sure to give you call in the afternoon as a reminder of what to do after arriving, ending it with, "I don't want to hear any complaining when I get there." before hanging up. You grumble a stray of curse words, this had better been worth it...

You couldn't believe your eyes on how luxurious the hotel was. It's entrance had been decorated with marble and brass statues. There wasn't a drop of it that didn't scream 'money'. You sheepishly sign in, allowing a worker to carry your bag to the room. It had taken a while before you could reach the top. Part of you was impressed, he had really gone all out.

As soon as you enter the room there was this sort of romantic ambiance to it. From the lighting, to the breathtaking scenery of the city. It was all so...dreamy. But this was no dream. You were going to have sex for the first time with some old, rich geezer, gross. You take note of a shopping bag left on the bed, opening it to find a lingerie set.

You held the fabric, inspecting the material. White lace, with hints of glitter that shine in the light. At least the old man has good taste. You take a look at yourself in the mirror, humming at the sight of it. Not bad...hell, you looked fantastic.

Suddenly the door knob jingles, then a heavy knock follows. You leapt from the bed, approaching to open the door for him. But before you could reach the knob it slams open. A man enters, sporting a well-tailored suit, dressed to the nines from head-to-toe. His hair is combed back, a few strands dangle against his forehead. As you scan the man's face, you couldn't help but notice how handsome he was.

There's a light rosy hue to his cheeks. You first notice the striking blues of his eyes and how long his lashes are. He looks like he'd have no problem at all searching for someone. So what is he doing paying for someone like you? For a moment, you were in awe of his presence. Staring back at the man like a deer caught in headlights.

The meeting today had taken its toll on Robert. He was supposed to meet with you hours ago, but there had been an emergency with the company's shareholders. He could practically feel his blood boiling, to the point where it felt almost difficult to breathe. He tugs his tie off and yanks for his shirt to open, a few buttons go flying. He lets out a huff, scanning the room with his blue orbs for something, more specifically, someone.

"So you're the one I've been talking to eh?" a hint of humor in his voice, "Let me guess, you're a good girl caught up in the wrong crowd? Is that it?" he taunts, "I'm sure you've 'never' done this before," the corners of his mouth turn upward into a sinister grin. His eyes are emotionless. Cold as ice. Yet why did they seem so comforting? As if you've seen them before.

He drops his suitcase at the end of the bed, turning towards you. He eyes you up and down, as if he were deep in thought, "Give me a spin," and of course you follow his orders. He raises a brow, "Come here," he commands. You stare back at him, unsure of what he'd just said. Robert sighs, he doesn't have time for this. He's slightly drunk and exhausted from work. Right now he just wants some hard, animalistic fucking.

He tugs your underwear to the side, examining his prize. He bunches up the waistband of your panties before yanking the fabric down. You held your breath, now riddled with anxiety. This was a bit too...casual for comfort. He fists the fabric, holding it to the side while the other hand held your hip.

His voice is deep, much deeper in person, "Hold it for me," he wants to get a good look at his purchase. His thick fingers slide down your pubic area, grazing against the bare skin, he hums, "Even waxed yourself like I told you to, good girl." he slaps the side of your hip, as if he were examining livestock. Your stomach coils at the realization. Never in your life have you felt so...objectified. Still, now wasn't the time to back down. He pushes you against a desk. Until you were now leaning on the table.

He spreads your folds with his thick digits, examining them closely. He held your clit between his fingers, pinching it lightly. You let out a whine from the sensation, bucking your hips from the sudden discomfort. He retreats his hand before flipping you over. His chest now against your back. He pushes you against the table, bending you over for a better view. He was in no rush.

He rubs his fingers over your bare slit. His thumb caresses your bundle of nerves. As soon as he retreats you finally snap the fabric back in place. Now lowering your head with embarrassment. He grips your chin, lifting it until you're face-to-face, "No don't hide from me now..." he plops himself on a chair, tilting his chin up, "Why don't you make yourself useful and help me get this off?"

If you weren't getting paid you would've scoffed at his rudeness. It was obvious he was into power play. Being in total control of everything. Now wasn't the time for letting your emotions emotions get involved. You help him remove his coat and tie, even unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. He's still wearing his pants, now unclasped. He stares you down, a smirk now lingering on his cold features, "Take off your clothes,"

When you start to quickly unclasp the garter belt, Robert's voice booms, "Stop." he orders, "Do it slower," he leans back in the recliner, already palming his erection. You shyly unclasp your belt, letting the straps fall off each shoulder. His hand grazes on an exposed breast, sending shivers down your spine.

He chuckles, "Oh...don't tell me you're that sensitive?" a crude remark. Your brows furrow, why did he have to tease you so? He notices your obvious discomfort, "Don't worry darling, your only job is to fuck," as if that would make things better, "Do you know how to suck cock?" he questions. You give him a hesitant nod, "No...I've never done it before this is my first time--"

"I didn't ask for a whole life story,"

"...No," your lips press in a thin line. He was really pushing it, "So you've never had sex or sucked cock before, tell me, what have you done?" he pulls out his member, already hard and leaking. It's tip was flush pink, the same as his lips. He spits into his palm before working himself up, he knows you're nervous. He wants you to be intimidated by him. He pumps his shafts with slow strokes, "Tell me, what gets you off..." he sighs.

You look down to your feet, suddenly his voice booms, "No, do not look away," to which you began to tear up. His voice is soft now, "Sweetheart, look at me," he huffs. You look up at him now with tearful eyes, he groans, "Oh...that's it..." stroking his cock faster. A finger points directly at you in a 'come hither' motion. You walk towards him, still eyeing his shaft. How was that going to fit?

You felt warm despite the lack of clothing, there's a pooling sensation between your legs. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his lap. His tongue darts against a breast. He teases the bud with his teeth. He made sure it was swollen and sensitive before giving attention to the other breast.

You never knew it could feel this...good. As soon as your hands reach for his hair he instantly stops, Robert remembers the reason why you're here. It wasn't to see him. You only wanted one thing, and he doesn't have time to play pretend. He just came here to collect what he's owed. At the end of the day, you were just a hired whore. He swats both hands away, giving you the cold shoulder. He lifts himself from the seat, throwing you against the carpet. You're confused at the sudden mood swing. It frightens you. Where the hell did that come from?

"It's a shame, you were doing so well," Robert sits up, his leaking cock now presses against his abdomen. He's pissed. He paid you for your time, you were suppose to focus only on his needs. Every word that came from his mouth dripped with anger, "It seems like you need a reminder on whore etiquette," he knows you've probably fucked a few before him, this was all part of your little roleplay act.

"I'm not a whore!" you detest lying, what made him not believe you? Forget it...this wasn't worth an argument, "You know what? You can take your money back asshole! Fuck this and fuck you--" a hand grips around your neck. He'll have to show you a thing or two of what comes with selling yourself out, especially to a complete stranger. You've always knew deep down that you'd regret your first, but this was downright terrifying.

This man, he didn't even see you as a person. As a human being. To him, this was all a transaction that was paid for, "What did you think that website was for? It's a human auction. Not just your cunt. Meaning I own your ass for the next few hours," he leans in, pressing his nose against yours, he growls, "Remember your place..."

Robert pulls you up by the hair, throwing you onto the bed. You scramble to get away but he's much stronger. He began to wrestle you. To which you land a slap on his cheek, hard enough to leave a mark. You pause, now too scared to move. He touches the tender skin, it would surely leave a bruise tomorrow. Which just so happens to be an important meeting, "You little bitch..." he grips your jaw until it aches, forcing your mouth to open.

He takes the opportunity to spit inside, covering your mouth and pinching your nose. You felt like you wanted to gag. Finally, after fighting to hold your breath, you swallow. He grins, "See? even if you try to fight me, I always get what I want..."

You, of all people, should know this about him. Instead you try putting up a fight, "I hate you! I hate you! Let me go!" thrashing around. Both of his hands now pressed against your throat. He scolds, "If you want it to hurt I'll make it hurt like nothing else..." he flips you over, pressing his body against your own, making it harder to breathe.

He lets his pants slide down. Tugging off his boxers. He spits a wad into his hand, that should be enough to get comfortable, for him. But for you? Well, he wants it to hurt you. Otherwise, how will you learn? Whores like you deserve to feel pain. That's what you get for teasing him in your photos. He growls into your ear, "Time to try my pussy..."

He yanks down your panties before pressing his leaking tip against your opening. He muffles your cries in his palm. You couldn't hold back the tears. This man is going to break you! As retaliation you tilt your head to the side and bit into his forearm. He grunts from the pain, it only encourages him to carry out your punishment. He thrusts harder, grinding down his hips to reach as deep as he could go.

You sob from the pain, going limp from shock. All you could do was cry into his hand, bracing yourself against the cushioning below. You turned your head to face the mirror, taking a good look at your own sad, pathetic reflection. You were being dominated by a complete stranger. How did it get to this point? When did you become so pathetic? So desperate to the point where you became a whore for hire?

He held you close to his chest. He knows now you're too tired to fight him off. He kept jutting his hips back and fourth, moaning in your ear with a deep grumble. You could smell the alcohol and cigarettes on his breath. It repulses you. The only sounds that could be heard in the room were of skin-to-skin slapping, Robert's insults, and your muffled cries.

"Fuck....fuck m'gonna cum..." he grunts. He rubs his nose against the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scented perfume. He drags his face across the soft, supple skin. He can tell by the shimmer that you applied an expensive lotion earlier. Of course you wanted him, what woman wouldn't? He's handsome, rich, successful, he's the entire package.

So why were you begging for him not to finish inside? You were just being stubborn, that's all. He'll have to remind you of who's in charge, "I bought this pussy fair and square. If I want to put a baby in it, then bitch, I will," he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, biting until the skin breaks. He doesn't stop thrusting his hips. Plunging his cock deep inside to coat your womb. He moans, furrowing his brows from the feeling of your velvety walls.

"You think you're better than me huh? Old enough to fuck but not old enough to get knocked up, yeah fucking right" he huffs, "You just wanted an excuse to be whore..." His voice becomes hoarse, as the pleasure began to increase, "Fuck...fuck I'll buy you a big house just so I can fuck you in it...hm...yeah you'd like that wouldn't you?" he doesn't stop his vigorous thrusts, "I’ll fuck some babies into you hm? You'd like that? I’ll give you a baby with blue eyes…something to remind you of me…" he flips you over, locking an arm around your neck.

All you could do was whine as you wait for the inevitable. Robert licks a stripe against your ear. He grunts with satisfaction, "Want you to remember this for the rest of your life....every time you think about your first time, you'll be thinking of me...." he fastens his pace. All you could do was stare back at your reflection. A tear trickles down your cheek. You couldn't help but agree. It was true, this moment would haunt you for the rest of your life.

Robert knows it. That's what gives him such an ego boost. He felt like he was on top of the fucking world. He growls in your ear, "Remember this, I.Fucking.Own.You." before unloading his spunk deep inside. He muffles a moan in the crook of your neck, bowing his head down to feel the bliss of it all. Fuck, he never came so much in his life. Was it the adrenaline or the pussy? He doesn't care. All he knows is that it's money well spent.

He slowly begins to pull out, hissing from the pleasure your pussy gave. He moans at the sight of his shaft dipped in a crimson tint, "Fuck me...if that isn't a sight for sore eyes..." he's made sure to mark his territory. He flips you over, you're too scared to even look at him.

He slides his hand from your stomach to your pelvis, "Hold on...I want to see it.." giving your lower abdomen a light push, forcing the rest of his seed out. It's mixed with a string of red. His lids are hooded, there's a twitch to his features. He grins, "Fuck...guess you weren't lying about me being your first..." he chuckles, "And here I thought you were just another lying whore..." playing with your emotions.

Robert lifts himself from the bed. He retrieves his belt on the floor, tying your wrists to the bed post. He doesn't want to risk you running away from him. Not while he still had a few hours left. He fixes himself in the mirror, coming his hair back to how it was before. Making sure that there wasn't a single strand out of place. He admires himself in the mirror. He felt like a fucking champ. Like nothing in the world could stop him, and so far there hasn't been.

Robert knew this was a good idea the moment he saw your profile online. He'd been tracking you down for quite some time, it's been a while. His obsession growing with each message sent. He had to own you. Mind, body, and soul. It was a good idea to install the hidden camera in the hotel. He could only stare at you from his office, viewing you changing into the set he'd purchased, admiring yourself in the mirror. He had to wait another agonizing hour before work was finished.

He notices the way you'd tried being presentable, all for him. How you would constantly check your phone just to see what his orders were. Submissive, compliant, needy. So fucking needy. That little pussy of yours needed his cock to break it in. He doesn't want it to end, he tosses a few bills onto the mattress, you don't even flinch. Your mind had already escaped.

Robert leans in, caging your body with his arms, "Why don't I keep you as my little plaything, hm?" he knows you've recently graduated. But what use was a degree compared to what he could give? What greater reward than being his pretty little housewife? You might as well put those looks to use. He plants a kiss against your lips, humming in satisfaction, "Need a good girl to balance me out..." he begins to rant, "And if you ever think of leaving me, I'll send a video of us fucking to your parents,"

But the thing is, you never told him who your parents were. It was then when the pieces began to fall into place. How could you be so stupid? His username was R-Morrow.

This was no other than the owner of Fischer Morrow, the man responsible for your landing parents in deep debt. Of course they trusted him, because he's your childhood friend. You lift yourself up and face him. Your voice in disbelief when you question the identity of the strange man, now with a tearful look, "R-Robbie?" you whisper. He pauses for a moment, head turning to the side as he looks your way, "Did you miss me?"

"...Why? I-I don't understand..." you began hyperventilating. This wasn't happening. Your childhood friend had taken your virginity. At one point, he was your entire world. He approaches you, no longer a lanky young boy but a man. He cups your face, pressing his forehead against yours. He sighs, "Don't you remember the promise we made? To find each other?" his eyes bore into yours, "I could only dream of it, but now?" he wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him, "Now you're finally mine..."

#dark!robert fischer #dark!robert fischer x reader #reader #reader insert #fem!reader #afab!reader #fab!reader #dark!fic #dark!fanfic #dark!fanfiction #dark!smut #dark fic #dark fanfic #dark fanfiction #cillian murphy character #cillian murphy smut

1K notes · View notes

mariacallous · 10 months

Text

The problem with judging people for their sins is that the internet makes it exceedingly easy to invent sins. In February, Buzzfeed News reported on a man filmed by a passing TikTokker, who then uploaded the footage with text suggesting he’d lied to her to get out of a date. That was false—he’d never met her—but it didn’t stop people from ridiculing him as the video racked up over a million views.

Similarly, last year, an Australian woman objected to being made the star of a stunt in which a TikTokker asked her to hold a bouquet, strolled off, and then congratulated himself on performing a random act of kindness. Sixty million hits later, his viewers were praising him for brightening the day of a woman they judged to be old, lonely, and sad. But she objected to that characterization and declared the whole affair “dehumanizing.” She hadn’t asked to have her day interrupted, let alone be thrust into a global spotlight.

And then there are those incapable of even grasping the situation. In 2022, a TikTok channel was called out for surreptitiously filming the homeless with drones. Loved ones with dementia are put on TikTok to be infantilized or have their worst moments gawked at. Parents transform their children into viral stars. Sometimes, those children grow up and call them out for warping their youth.

When people tell us it was harrowing and wrong to be unwillingly cast into the spotlight, we nod and agree. But those responsible typically offer only half-hearted apologies or remain unrepentant, while their millions of views discourage reflection. Often, moral scolding is implicit in the video and explicit in the comments: It is wrong to be homeless. It is gross to be ill. It is pathetic to be unhappy.

To be sure, crass and hateful public figures are worthy of ridicule. And we’ve been using the internet to judge strangers for as long as we’ve had the internet. But the common trait shared by much of the most obnoxious content today is that someone chose to elevate a stranger for no reason beyond their own gratification, attracting attention at a scale unimaginable in the days of relics like Hot or Not and People of Wal-Mart.

At best, these are misguided attempts to juice the poster’s social media presence. At worst, they are pointless cruelty. That cruelty can be addictive, but we can and must resist the urge to gawk at strangers against their will. It should, in fact, be considered rude, insulting, and wrong to have uploaded a stranger against their will. We would not go out into the streets and stir up a mob against a random person. Why are we so comfortable with doing it online?

Much of what we post online is innocent and will remain so. The average Facebook user has 338 friends, while the average number of Instagram followers, according to one estimate, is just 150. You likely use these platforms to follow celebrities and brands, and to interact with friends and family. These are, for most users, insular communities. Vacation photos with friends or a family portrait at Christmas are unlikely to attract trolls and creeps, and even if they do, they are clearly posted in good faith.

But some platforms, like TikTok and Twitter, are more exposed to the vagaries and cruelties of the wider world. Anything you post on them can wind up in the feed of people who don't follow you. Therefore, anyone can become the day’s punching bag. Does your relative really understand what could happen if you put your interaction with them on TikTok?

Maybe you know better than to post Grandpa on Twitter without thinking it through. We know whether our friends and family like attention and whether they understand social media ecosystems, and with this knowledge we are capable of making informed decisions as to whether and on what platforms we should post them. We do not have the same knowledge of strangers. That can be a reason to not post them, but it can also be an excuse to post them without thinking.

If it came out that an influencer uploaded an interaction with a stranger to a private Facebook page or Discord server solely so their closest friends and family could pick them apart, it would rightly be considered misanthropic. And yet uploading a stranger so millions can mock and over-analyze them is just the business of content. That business needs to change.

It’s exceedingly unlikely we’ll ever eliminate jackassery from the internet, but a social media mishap involving a friend or family member can be resolved with communication.

It is harder for a complete stranger to succeed in that endeavor, especially when “Look at this weirdo I found, please gape at them” is the text or subtext of so many videos and posts by accounts that thrive on content starring the unwilling. Such content must become anathema. Particular thought must be taken before posting an interaction with a stranger, and the consent of a stranger to be posted at all is necessary to retain an internet that is even remotely civil. If someone does post a stranger without their consent, they should be shunned, not rewarded with the attention they crave.

The vast majority of disputes with unruly neighbors are solved by talking to them. Ideally, the law only gets involved when lines of communication break down. The same can be true of digital disputes.

We have privacy laws. If I were to post your name, address, and phone number, you would have legal recourse. And yet the same is not true for your image. Today, at least, you surrender your right to privacy by stepping into public. But outdated privacy laws are catching up to the abuses of government and tech, and the issues raised by social media virality could be next.

Still, a blanket law against posting strangers without their consent would be draconian and unworkable. There are too many variables, too many circumstances, and simply too many cases. However, whole generations who have been online since birth—sometimes unwillingly—could grow up to be more sensitive to the downsides of posting without permission, prompting a normative shift.

More specific laws are already evolving to handle some scenarios raised by nonconsensual virality, specifically as it applies to children. Irina Raicu of Santa Clara University’s Internet Ethics Program points out that a recent French law entitles child influencers to demand that platforms scrub all trace of them once they turn 16. The YouTube career their parents create for them—or force on them—need not be what defines them as adults. The United States is considering a similar law; a woman who testified to a House committee said the details of her first period were turned into content.

Another law being considered in France would make parents responsible for their children’s privacy rights. Le Monde cites, as an example of fame-seeking behavior that France is hoping to discourage, TikTokkers scaring their children by pretending to call the police on them, and an Instagrammer who smeared chocolate on her 4-year-old and convinced them they were covered in feces. We will eventually wonder how parents were able to get away with this at all.

So those who cannot consent are starting to be protected. But what about those who could consent, but don’t? And what if, as some unwillingly viral subjects have found, reaching out and asking for posts to be removed is met with silence or rejection?

In reality we already practice social media consent; it is not unusual to ask a friend if they’re alright with having a picture posted to Instagram, even though the face they make as they try to cram an unusually large sandwich into their mouth is not a flattering one. And yet we continually fail to extend this courtesy to strangers, either because we think nothing of it or because it is our job to go viral at all costs.

Some of this, as Raicu points out, can be blamed on the platforms we use, which encourage hair triggers. “There are ways in which the design choices behind many websites make it harder for all of us to think about consent,” Raicu wrote in an email. She points to the sheer ease of posting and the fact that norms around social media consent have not solidified. But she notes that platforms could “introduce some friction” in the form of, essentially, reminders that other people are human before you hit Post.

Future platforms could work to curtail shaming, either out of moral compulsion or legal necessity. Much as you can report harassment to social media platforms, posts that have elevated you to infamy against your will should be fair targets.

Lines have been drawn before. YouTube banned dangerous pranks and challenges after people were hurt and complaints mounted. TikTok is trying to tweak its algorithm in response to growing concerns that young users are awash in content encouraging suicide and incel ideology. Content made from those unable or unwilling to consent is a broad category that cannot be wiped out with algorithmic tweaks, but the damage is still happening, and we have the power to collectively declare that some forms of content are unacceptable and must no longer be tolerated.

Perhaps, given the increasing universality of social media usage—83 percent of Gen Z uses TikTok—platform-embedded tools could establish consent. Before posting a video of someone, an influencer could ask their username and send them a simple, stock contract granting them permission to post. Again, this need not apply to every random photo of friends. It could be optional, or it might apply only when an account reaches a certain threshold of followers. But a lack of permission could give a user cause when they cite unwanted virality and negative attention when asking for a post to be removed.

But most of the work will fall to people. It's difficult enough to remember that the man being a bit rude in the grocery store line is a fallible human being with hopes and dreams; it can be almost impossible to remind yourself of that when viewing a contextless clip of someone halfway across the hemisphere. The internet is capable of connecting us to tremendous numbers of people, even as it makes us forget that they are human like us.

An influencer comfortable with filming themselves for thousands of viewers should be comfortable with approaching a stranger and saying, “Would you mind appearing in a video I’m making? I’m going to post it on this platform, and I have this many followers. Take a minute to check me out.” Some already do, and surely there are people who would be happy to receive a free bouquet in exchange for appearing in a TikTokker’s silly stunt. But a no should be taken as a no, just as it should in any other scenario involving consent.

It’s all too easy to skip this step today. People who speak out when they feel harmed by what an influencer did with their image receive only a tiny fraction of the attention that the original posts featuring them got. But when an influencer is repeatedly called out for exploiting strangers—or when their exploitation is obvious, such as when they prey on the homeless—they should be frozen out of the social media ecosystem, not rewarded with attention and profit.

In the future, how will we be able to see such casual cruelty as anything but unethical? Maybe stories of regret are a sign of what’s to come. Brianna Wu, one of the victims of GamerGate, says she has fielded over 100 apologies, often from people who were at their lowest and saw her as an easy outlet for their emotions. But we generally don’t take our frustrations out on people on the street; understanding that people deserve to be protected from unsolicited online fame and malice is the next logical step.

We no longer parade people through villages on a cart or lock them in pillories in the town square to shame them, as was done in centuries past. We did not stop enforcing laws and norms, but we recognized that humiliation and ostracization are harsh, counterproductive tools. Eventually, we will make that realization about the strangers we parade across the internet.

1K notes · View notes

veryberryjelly · 3 months

Note

hey girl!!! I think ur still writing for jake from b99 (hopefully) so i was wondering if i could request him with a reader who's on her period and she's working, jake brings her home and comforts her (cause her cramps are rlly bad) <3

jake peralta x fem!reader

cw : reader is described as female, reader has truly bad cramps

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

as a woman, one of the necessities of life was making sure you could function during your period.

if you didn't have a way to cope, it was hard, or almost impossible to do day to day tasks such as going to work.

and you had your emergency kit in your desk drawer. heating pad, tampons, spare underwear, pads and some pills your doctor had prescribed to you when you explained how bad your cramps could get.

and while you would usually replenish your kit a few days before your period started, you hadn't expected the wave of cramps that overtook you as you sat at your desk.

"shit-" you muttered under your breath when you felt the first one.

you were quick to open your drawer and look for the familiar yellow bottle, only to find it empty.

your stomach dropped and another cramp rolled through your abdomen.

you couldn't do much about it now, only put on a heating pad, change your underwear and put on a pad.

so that's exactly what you did. you grabbed your necessary supplies and headed towards the bathroom, making an extra effort to walk straight instead of hunched over.

you felt a pair of eyes on you briefly but just ignored it, knowing your priority at the moment.

when you returned to your desk, heating pad in place over your abdomen, you felt a tiny bit better, but the cramps were still coming fierce and fast.

it must've been the crease in your brow that alerted jake of your discomfort because after a few moments you saw a figure sit down at the side of your desk.

you picked your eyes up to find his familiar brown eyes. a soft smile settled briefly on your lips.

" what's up ?" you questioned, dropping your pen down on your desk quietly as to not aggravate the headache you could feel forming.

" you doing okay ?" he questioned, his voice quiet and comforting.

you should've known jake would notice you acting off. he knew you too well not to notice.

" yeah, i'm fine-" you paused momentarily when you felt a stabbing pain in your lower back. " just cramps "

early on in your relationship jake had found out just how bad your cramps could be. after you had to cancel a date last minute saying you were unwell and he showed up to your apartment with takeout. you had just been honest with him and told him you got really bad cramps.

he wasn't rude or grossed out, he just asked how he could help and you ended the night curled on your couch with his arm draped over your stomach, his palm splayed out under your t-shirt on your abdomen.

since that night he had always been there when you needed him to be.

" v'you taken anything ?" he questioned, his voice still slightly hushed.

" haven't replenished my prescription "

a small hiss came from his lips as he took in the repercussions of you not having the thing that made these few days more bearable for you.

" d'you want me to go and refill it for you ?" his suggestion made your heart melt and you reached your hand over to squeeze his hand lightly.

" it's okay, i can wait a couple hours. can we go by the pharmacy on the way home, though ?" you asked to which he nodded immediately.

he gave your hand a small squeeze, giving you a comforting smile before he departed back to his own desk.

you thought you could wait until the end of the work day, but your cramps only worsened over the next hour.

you couldn't focus on your case reports over the stabbing pain through your body.

" c'mon i'm taking you home "

you lifted your head to find jake stood by your desk, his jacket on and his bag over his shoulder.

" jake, you don't have to do this. i'm fine, and we've both got st-"

" would you just let me do this for you? i talked to holt and he's giving you the afternoon off and i'm taking you home. " the way he said it left almost no room for discussion. he was taking you home and that was the end of it.

you didn't debate with him, just pulled your jacket over your shoulders and picked up your bag.

his hand slipped easily into yours as the two of you walked out of the precinct and down towards the parking lot.

the drive back to your apartment wasn't a long one, it felt a lot better after jake hopped out at the pharmacy and returned to the car with your prescription in his hand along with a bottle of water.

when you arrived home, jake told you to go and shower, change and get settled on the couch while he made some tea.

you were quick to go into your bedroom, grab one of jake's t-shirts and a pair of long pyjama pants and get take them into the bathroom.

your shower was quick but definitely made you feel a bit better. when you stepped out you changed into the clothes you had gotten out and walked out into the living room.

you found jake sat on the couch on his phone, a mug of tea on the coffee table beside a hot water bottle and one of your cosiest blankets on the couch.

nothing was said as you sat down and leant into jake's frame, his arms wrapping around you swiftly. he simply offered you the remote and made minimal comments when you put on a film you both enjoyed.

though as much as you enjoyed it, your head went limp against jake's chest within the first half an hour.

385 notes · View notes

inkdrinkerworld · 8 months

Note

ahhh i love chubby!reader and spencer!! what if she overheard someone talking about her weight in a negative way and when she runs into spencer he instantly goes into his own kind of awkward comfort mode bc he secretly has THE biggest crush on you and any other time he would be VERY proud that he managed to get you to hug him but now you’re crying and oh no he doesn’t want you to be sad especially not over the way you look!!

It’s gross. To hear people make comments about your body behind your back in the way you do.

It’s all snide, backhanded comments disguised as compliments. Your stomach rolls because none of your team is near enough to hear them and you don’t feel like making a scene.

Your mind changes when you hear, ‘And it’s so obvious she likes him but what would he do with a girl like her? He’s less than half her size. She doesn't deserve someone like him.’

Your blood boils and you flick away imaginary dust and lint from your clothes before making yourself known.

“You might not like the way I look but you’re much more unattractive than you find me because that’s just vile. You should be ashamed of yourselves. It's none of your business but Spencer and I are dating.”

The local officers blanch and you walk off ignoring their stunned silence and stutters for an apology.

Your hands shake as you sit next to your team and you’re silly for thinking Spencer wouldn’t notice it. Spencer noticed when you had dusted the ends of your hair a week ago.

"Are you okay?" he asks, voice so low it's barely a murmur. Spencer's eyes remain trained on you as you nibble on your lip trying to decide what to do.

"I've been better," you say and Hotch saves you from more questions by instructing, "Y/N I need you to speak to the local police and get every name they have for people who came in."

No one else notices the way your back stiffens as you stand. Spencer does, "I'll go with her, and we'll call Garcia."

Spencer takes you to a secluded hallway and tips your chin up, "What happened, sweetheart?" it's cruel for him to whip that out at work, but it has the same effect it does when you're at home curled in his lap while reading.

"The locals were saying things about me- which is fine, I'm not everybody's cup of tea. But they were extra mean and rude about it." you debate whether to say the rest, but it comes out before you come to a real decision. "They said they don't know why I think I deserve your attention and they said you're too small to be with someone like me."

Spencer gasps like you've burnt him. He feels heat searing his chest as he replays your words. He doesn't know exactly how to comfort you without his words being hard and rough.

"But I stood up for myself," that eases some of the pressure in his chest. "I told them they should be ashamed of themselves and that I wasn't just some girl pining after you and we were together."

Spencer presses his forehead into yours. "I'm glad you stood up for yourself, but you shouldn't have to defend yourself at work or in general. You're amazing and stunning and you're more than anything I could've dreamt up for myself."

His words are soft, sweet and it melts the remaining worry in your bones that even though Spencer loves you, he had regrets.

"They're fucking assholes," he deadpans quietly and you laugh. "But we have a job to do so we'll be civil for the rest of the time we're here but the second we're done, we're messing with them."

#spencer reid x chubby!reader #spencer reid x black!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencerreid

439 notes · View notes

nicksbestie · 2 months

Note

Hi! Could I ask for a request of Chris with a girlfriend who’s a little? And she finally starts slipping around him? Thanks 💜

Comfortable - C. Sturniolo

Summary : Your boyfriend may know your most personal coping mechanism, but you haven't used it around him, until today.

Pairing : Chris Sturniolo/Reader (romantic)

Warnings : none!!!

Word Count : 1094

A/N : This is an age regression fic, which is purely safe for work and innocent. Any hate/disrespect towards me, my work, or readers, will not be tolerated.

Your boyfriend knew so much about you. He arguably knew more about you than your parents did. He knew you on a much deeper, more personal, level, as he was the person that you could go to when you needed to talk about anything and everything. With that being said, he knew one of your most personal secrets, that you used regression as a coping mechanism to relax and heal from the amount of things that you had been through as a young child and teenager, and when you had told him, he had been incredibly supportive, albeit not knowing very much about it.

He had been open minded, asking questions while being careful to not be rude, even unintentionally, and you could tell that he genuinely just wanted to understand. He never made you feel bad, weird, gross, or anything negative about how you chose to cope, and because of the fact that he knew just how much you had been through, he understood your choice of this mechanism because after learning about it, he could see that it was incredibly beneficial for you. There was a lot of talking about it, making sure that Chris truly understood what you were telling him, making sure that there was absolutely no room for confusion in what he was expecting.

It was so cute when you would go onto Chris’ phone for random reasons, taking photos, or googling something, and seeing lots of age regression related things in his search history and in his saved Pinterest boards. You could nearly feel your heart warm at the fact that you had found such a supportive partner, who accepted you for exactly who you were, and was clearly very open about it and wasn’t just supporting you because he felt like he had to. He often sent you pictures of cute stuffed animals and blankets, and he even got a package delivered to the house that, when opened, contained small toys with your name printed on them, along with some bottles and pacifiers with some pet names in deco beading on them.

You had cried when you had opened it, and he had immediately rushed into the room, a soft smile appearing on his face when he saw why you were crying. He had wrapped his arms around you, gently comforting you, whispering gentle nothings, pressing kisses to the top of your head and reminding you that he loved you, and that included everything about you. He had helped you put those things into your box of little things, and he had held you until you stopped crying. What he had noticed recently, was that you hadn’t slipped at all around him. However, he brushed it off, knowing that your regression was an incredibly vulnerable thing for you, and he never wanted to damage that in any way. When you decided to regress around him was completely up to you, but he would be here to care for you if and when you did.

A couple more weeks went by, and Chris never pushed it. You both were curled up together after a long night and day, Chris had been filming a lot, and you had gone through a tough shift at work, so you were both just happy to be in each other’s company, enjoying the quality time with each other despite how exhausted you were. Being excessively tired was normally a trigger for your headspace, but you couldn’t deny the fact that you were fighting it right now. You were definitely still holding a little bit of anxiety about it, because despite the fact that Chris had seemed to be so open minded when you had told him, you couldn’t know for sure that he would be okay with it after you actually regressed around him.

You’d talked about your triggers with Chris before, and he knew that exhaustion was one of them, so unbeknownst to you, he was watching you like a hawk to see if you did begin to slip around him, and he was being so excessively gentle just in case. He had a feeling that you had a habit of not giving in to slipping sometimes, just because of the lack of you regressing around him. He wasn’t judging, but he had done an excessive amount of research, and he had found that littles who have anxiety when they’re big can often unintentionally carry that feeling over to their headspace, and when they’re smaller, it feels a lot worse. So he knew that he would need to be soft and encouraging, and when he noticed you cuddle closer into his side, he just had a feeling.

He’d never been a caregiver before, but he couldn’t deny that there was some type of feeling when he thought about the fact that you trusted him so much that he could see the most vulnerable part of you and still love you immensely. You felt so incredibly lucky to have him, and he knew that he was so lucky to have you as well. When he wrapped his arms around you, he began rubbing your back, being as gentle as possible, running his other hand through your hair and gently kissing your forehead. He whispered sweet nothings to you, sentences filled with love confessions and pet names, making sure that you felt safe in his arms.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, I know. You can slip, baby, I’ve got you.”

You had always been quite an emotional little, and when he whispered those specific words to you, you couldn’t stop the tears that immediately filled in your eyes. He gently wiped them away, keeping you close to him, knowing that you found a lot of comfort in being within close contact of people. You were so exhausted that when you eventually did give in to your headspace, you didn’t have the energy to speak much. However, Chris could tell through your mannerisms that you had allowed yourself to slip, and he immediately placed your favorite stuffie in your arms, a Build-A-Bear kitty that had a recording of his voice inside the heart. When you grabbed his shirt in your hand, tightening it in your fist just like a baby would, he couldn’t ignore the way that his heart swelled.

After spending the rest of the night comforting and loving on you, making sure you were comfortable, safe, happy, and had everything you needed, he looked down on you while you were peacefully sleeping, and knew this was exactly where he was supposed to be in life.

~ taglist : @blahbel668 @mattsgirlfrieeend @69isabella69 @mayhem-72 @iculdstealurgf @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @sturnioloslife @heartsforkarina @nervousrebelglitter @sturniclo @elliegrace-7 @mattsturnioloisbae @strnilo

~ if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here!

~ my inbox is open, come chat!!

178 notes · View notes

slut4slytherinss · 5 months

Text

Labyrinth

Pt. 1 - Gold Rush

SEND REQUESTS!!

Summary: reader finds herself falling in love, hard, for Mattheo not long after she broke her own heart over him. Initially convinced that she will never recover from her pain that he caused, she marvels at how she finds comfort in the boy that hurt her.

1,470 words

Warnings: cursing, basically the same as pt.1 minus the angst, so much cheesiness it’s gross, lovey dovey!mattheo bc I’m extremely soft, sort of angsty but in a beautiful way, these aren’t even warnings atp, the other students being jealous cunts, possible references to books or movies, Regulus is STILL dead (wdym he’s literally in bed beside me rn), Dorothea being kind of rude (dw my girl is still your bestie), Drastoria(to all you Drarry shippers I’m sorry), mention of ronmione, slight rush and basically no plot, SUPER FUCKING SHORT IM SORRY😞

2nd person pov

Hufflepuff prefect reader

Female reader

“It only hurts this much right now.” Was what I was thinking the whole time.

You walk down the hallway aside Mattheo, fingers intertwined. You agreed to try it out and it’s lasted a month, but that doesn’t stop everyone in the castle from starting rumors. He traces circles on the back of your hand with his thumbnail, in a comforting manner, he leans in to whisper in your ear “Let’s go back to my dorm, okay?” You nod. You two go to his dorm a lot, not to hook up, you haven’t had sex since the party, his dorm is like a safe space — and his friends are fucking awesome. You’ve barely even told Dorothea what your relationship has been like, becoming closer and closer with the Slytherins.

When you get into his dorm you take your robe off, leaving you in your white button-up, skirt that rests appropriately at your knees, calf high socks and black Doc Martens. Mattheo places your robe gently atop a chair next to his desk before taking his own robe off and kicking his shoes off. “Lay with me, love?” He asks sweetly which causes you to roll your eyes, but oblige. You lie next to him in the bed, just talking. That’s all you two ever do lately, though, it gives you a fair bit of anxiety — trusting him with your secrets. It terrifies you, actually. You need to just—

Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out. I’ll be getting over you, my whole life.

Seriously. He’s unforgettable. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to ease your nerves. Mattheo must feel how tense you are because he begins to trace stars on your back, it’s his little form of comfort. I’ve never been good at that, he’d told you once. Which seems like total bullshit because he always manages to calm you, or at least make you forget about your issues for a while. That also scares you, the fact he can make you want to cry, strangle him, and yourself, but also smile, laugh, hug him. Terrifies you. No one has ever impacted you this much. Everything is moving so fast, but Mattheo is there with you, along for the ride.

You know how scared I am of elevators. Never trust it if it rises fast, it can’t last.

You walk into your dorm, laying down on your bed and dropping your bag on the floor. You quickly turn over when you hear Dorothea’s voice “Look who’s finally home.” She says in an annoyed tone. “Dor? What are you doing in here?” You sit up, she looks at you with raised brows and crossed arms. “Really? You start dating Mattheo Riddle, leave me alone for weeks, get new friends and you’re asking me why I’m here?” You swallow, “You told me you’d get over him, you lied to me.” “Dorothea, c’mon, this is like—like a trial, to see if we’re good together, he’s really sweet.” You try to justify your actions “He’s Mattheo Riddle!” She whispers aggressively, shaking her head. “He’s my boyfriend!” You spit out, the word feeling foreign on your tongue. Dorothea visibly flinches, “What?” “He’s—he’s my boyfriend,” you repeat, more confidently. “You just said that the relationship was a trial.” “Well it is, but he’s still my boyfriend. Mine. So stop trying to criticize him and me simply because I care for him.” You breathe out that last part “You care for him?” She asks with a raised eyebrow. “Yes, I care for him. It’s not like—I’m in love with him or something, I just care.” You say quickly. You’re not in love with him. You can’t be, right?

Uh oh, I’m falling in love again. Oh no, I’m falling in love again. Oh, I’m falling in love. I thought the plane was going down how’d you turn it right around?

The day after your interaction with Dorothea is, odd, to say the least. You sit outside in the courtyard, leaning against a tree, you’ve been avoiding Mattheo like the plague ever since your revelation. This whole things just feels so—raw. But of course he found you.

It only feels this raw right now, lost in the labyrinth of my mind.

“Hey,” he gives you a small smile. “Hi.” You reply, he sits down next to you. “I haven’t seen you all day, you avoiding me?” That causes you to laugh—and also tell the truth with a few nods. “Yeah, yeah I have.” He tilts his head but doesn’t seem upset in the slightest. “Why’s that?” “Well—um,” you try to get the words out but they seem a little stuck. “It’s okay, take your time.” He brings his hand down to hold yours, tracing gentle circles on your palm. You smile and lean your head on his shoulder. “I care about you, Mattheo.” You admit. He grins, really grins. “I care about you too.” The boy says, “Really?” He nods “Always have,” he leans down so his lips are right next to your ear, “always will.” His whisper is like a secret for only you to hear, a promise that will never be broke, a sacred oath.

Break up, break free, break through, break down. You would break your back to make me break a smile.

“Boys!” You call out in a sing-song voice, “I’ve brought sweets!” They got in trouble for talking too loudly during class and were removed from this weeks Hogsmeade weekend, you decided to buy them some sweets. Blaise is the first to you, “Thank Merlin, Y/n!” He snatches a bag from you as you giggle. You toss some sweets onto Draco’s bed as all the boys thank you, Mattheo stands up and wraps his arms around you from behind, kissing your cheek. That action causes all the others to groan and tell you to “Get a room.” Pansy and Astoria walk into the room, talking animatedly, Astoria sits on Draco’s bed beside him, tossing bags of clothes at him, “I’ve got you a new suit.” He grins and kisses the side of her neck in thanks. “Y/n! You totally missed it,” Pansy exclaims, practically shoving Mattheo off of you to lock her arm onto yours. “We caught Weasley and Granger snogging in the bathrooms at Three Broomsticks!” You giggle at her words and sit down on Mattheo’s bed with her, “Seriously? You steal my girlfriend and now my bed?” He asks Pansy, in a mock-offended way, she sticks her tongue out at him. “C’est la vie.” Blaise shrugs with a smirk playing at his lips as he eats the chocolate you gave him. “Speaking of that,” Theodore begins “how’s the sex Matt?” He teases, which causes you to blush and Mattheo to shove Theodore. “Shut it man, that’s so gross.” “Oh c’mon!” Astoria exclaims, “Y/n never tells us anything about it.” She shakes her head. “Maybe she doesn’t want to.” Mattheo defends you, you just stay silent. You tune them out, you just hate how everyone already wants you to be sleeping together. Why would you? It’s taken you long enough to call him your boyfriend, let alone touch him (approximately three weeks). Sure, you’ve hooked up before, but never as a couple. That act is supposed to be intimate with a person you care about. So why do it so soon? You’re taken away from your thoughts by the feel of Mattheo’s hand gripping yours.

You know how much I hate that everybody just expects me to bounce back. Just like that.

It’s now been around two months, officially dating, Dorothea has apologized and became friends with the Slytherin’s, it’s all perfect. Except, you and Mattheo still haven’t kissed nor done anything but cuddle and hold hands. You’re not sure why but the act feels too intimate, too scary for you. You’ve kissed lots of guys before—granted none were your boyfriend—but still. You can’t seriously be falling for him, right?

“Hey love,” Mattheo murmurs, dropping a kiss on the top of your head. “Did Dorothea let you in?” You question with a yawn, he just hums and nods, sitting next to you on your bed. “How’s my girl doing?” He asks, “Stressed and exhausted.” You reply as you trace your quill along the parchment “You’re seriously doing that extra credit essay?” “Yes, Mattheo, I am. I’m totally failing Slughorn’s class and he never lets us do shit like this for extra credit, I’m savoring it.” He chuckles and pulls you closer to him by your waist. “Just take a little break. For me?” You groan but end up giving in, leaning back against his chest. “You’re so lucky I lo—“ you cut yourself off quickly, immediately looking away from him. He stiffens, “You what?” He murmurs, you swallow. “Nothing, nothing important.” You say quickly. Mattheo desperately wants to change the subject so he just nods and looks forward.

Uh oh, I’m falling in love again. Oh no, I’m falling in love again. Oh, I’m falling in love. I thought the plane was going down how’d you turn it right around?

After a few minutes of silence, Mattheo speaks again “What were you going to say?” He asks in a whisper, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hip bone. “It doesn’t matter.” You murmur, but Mattheo is quite persistent and asks again, you finally give in and mutter “I love you.” Which causes his breath to catch, I love you, those words shouldn’t be a big deal—you aren’t asking him to marry you or anything—but they are. He swallows before murmuring “Really?” To which you reply with a timid “Yes.” A slow smile creeps up on his face. “Well, I love you too.” You grin like an idiot, love, a silly thing to be obsessing over—but alas, you are.

Uh oh, I’m falling in love again. Oh no, I’m falling in love again. Oh, I’m falling in love. I thought the plane was going down how’d you turn it right around?

A/N: sorry this one was so short, I just wanted to end this on a sweet note.. sooooo yeah. And sorry for the wait lol🙈🙈

226 notes · View notes

iwritefandomimagines · 3 months

Text

NOTES — JESS MARIANO

based on a request

masterlist

pairing: jess mariano x reader

description: after months of mutual pining, jess arrives at luke’s having read your favourite novel. oh, and he has some notes.

warnings: swearing, jokey sexual reference, other than that just tooth rotting fluff vibes

author’s note: thank you so much for this request, i loved it sm i had to immediately start writing!!! i hope it does jess justice — i love writing him so much. i may go back and edit some bits im not 100% happy with — but i hope you enjoy!!!

pleaaaaase let me know what you think — i love love love reading you guys’ feedback <3

———

“I finished it.”

If you were anyone else, you’d have jumped out of your skin at the sudden, and rather loud, appearance of someone beside you.

But this was you, and it was Jess, so you were more than used to your ‘peaceful’ study sessions at Luke’s being interrupted by his ever-present smirk, his flirting and his endless supply of smartarse comments.

Not that you could complain.

You’d grown used to his omnipresence over a year ago. And it had been months now since you’d realised that you no longer just tolerated his company — you enjoyed it a ridiculous amount and instead longed for it when he wasn’t around.

You eyed him quizzically, noting how proud of himself he looked for reading your favourite book, but also noticing an unusual lack of self-assurance glimmering through his expression.

“I would ask if you mean this trig stuff for Mr Elton,” you gestured down to the homework you’d been painfully poring over for the past hour, “But I know you too well to expect you to actually do your homework, so what are you talking about?”

He didn’t mention that the real reason he never studied in your trig study sessions was because he was more often than not too busy staring at you and coming up with things to say to make you laugh.

Jess raised his eyebrows, but then shook his head and cleared his throat to do a godawful impression of you, “Oh Jess, I can’t believe you’ve never read it. My favourite novel in the whole world and you’ve never read it!”

You scoffed, “If that was supposed to be me, get out of here.”

“Please, like you really want to get rid of me,” he teased, gesturing to the pile of papers in front of you, “Then you’d be miserable and heartbroken and, even worse, have to actually finish your trig homework. Besides, I enjoyed it.”

Your eyes brightened up at this, and you could tell he noticed, “Don’t look so surprised, Y/N. Your taste isn’t that bad… I mean, you hang out with me don’t you?”

“For some reason, yes,” you pretended to grumble, feigning ignorance of the butterflies in your stomach at his usual smug smile, “But you really liked it?”

He sat down in the seat opposite you now, pulling the book from his bag and slamming it down in front of you, “Well, I have notes of course.”

You rolled your eyes, at which he couldn’t help but laugh, “Hey, it wasn’t terrible. I did say I enjoyed it… Some of the notes are nice.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure.”

“You wound me,” Jess feigned a pout, “Romance isn’t usually my genre and you know that.”

“Of course. Hemingway fanboy is too cool for my sappy romantic books, huh,” you joked, heart still racing wildly at the notion he’d even started reading it, let alone finished it.

“Pfft. Austen fangirl should be less rude and give more Hemingway a try, I say,” he quipped back, tongue in cheek.

“Hey, I like Hemingway,” you shook your head, “I just don’t go to bed and jerk off over how great I think he is like you so obviously do.”

He shook his head and pulled a face that faked shock, “And how much time in the day, on average, would you say you spend thinking about what I jerk off over, huh?”

“You are such an ass,” you tutted, swatting his arm, “Approximately none, thank you very much.”

“Whatever you say, princess.”

“Anyway, if you’re done being gross, let’s get back to the important thing here. You read my book,” You reached to pull the book towards you, only for him to snatch it back and rest his elbows on it.

You furrowed your brows at him, “What’ve you got to hide in there?”

His eyes narrowed, his lip between his teeth now as though he was thinking hard about something.

“C’mon, Mariano,” you leaned forward, “I assumed that since you brought the book with you, I’d get to see at least some of your notes.”

His fingers were picking at the edges of the book’s cloth sleeve, his toes drumming on the floor anxiously like they’d recently begun to do more often when he was around you.

He heaved out a deep sigh, “Look. I’m going to give you this, and then I’m gonna leave the diner, alright? And then, and only then, you can open this book up, and you can read what’s in there. And if you never see me again it’s ’cause I’ve died of embarrassment or something. Got it?”

You rolled your eyes, chin on your palm.

He slid the book in your direction now as you watched him swallow thickly and cocked your head to the side like a curious puppy, “Ever so cryptic, aren’t you?”

“You’ll figure it out, Miss Marple.”

With that, he rose to his feet and darted out of the diner before you could even say another word.

You briefly made eye contact with Luke behind the counter, who watched you carefully for a moment before looking down at the book now carefully clutched between your fingers.

You wasted no time then, pulling open the book and desperately skimming for whatever the hell he was talking about.

You weren’t sure what on earth you expected to find when you flicked through its pages, but it most certainly wasn’t a plethora of sticky tabs with scrawled notes on about how the protagonist reminded him of you.

You expected even less, then, to find a note in Jess’ handwriting at the very back of the book declaring that he realised halfway through — when the two love interests whose relationship bore a crazy resemblance to your own, realised that they were in fact in love — that he’d been stupid to deny that he even liked you, let alone that he’d quite obviously fallen stupidly in love with you.

Shock coursed through you, your heart racing at the uncharacteristically romantic and yet somehow still so incredibly Jess gesture.

You stood up, almost knocking over your chair as you placed the book under your arm and turned to leave, “I’ll be back—uh, soon.”

Luke nodded, “Go get him kiddo.”

You smiled, butterflies whirling in your stomach as you left the diner almost as quickly as Jess had just minutes ago.

You knew exactly where you’d find him — perched on the bridge swinging his feet and letting his mind convince him you wouldn’t in a million years feel the same.

When he heard the sound of your footsteps approaching, you saw him clench his eyes shut as if in hope that he was imagining you and that you’d soon disappear.

“You can’t confess your love for me and then run away, Jess,” you bit your lip as you teased him softly, “It’s not fair not to give me a chance to say it back properly. You do get bonus points for how much of a romance novel cliché that move is, though.”

He sighed, a deep heavy sigh of relief, and it was as though suddenly he reverted to his usual self, “Technically the book confessed my love for you, actually. And the window for reciprocating hasn’t quite closed yet. I’m all ears, pretty girl.”

You loved this.

You loved how easy things always were for you with Jess.

Everything that went unspoken still never went unsaid — sure, you’d been flirtatious friends for a while now, uncertain of quite how seriously he reciprocated your feelings, but deep down you always sort of knew.

You loved that ever since he’d come to Stars Hollow, he’d shown that he cared in his own silly little ways.

And he loved you.

And you loved him.

You sat down at his side, still clutching the book tightly as he finally looked across at you with a small smile.

“You’re such a romantic, huh? I didn’t know you had it in you,” you nudged his side teasingly, “But I— Jess I do love you, and I’ve probably loved you for a long time even though I didn’t want to let myself admit it.”

“Wow, okay Mr Darcy… Wait ‘til Luke hears that the real reason you’ve only just told me that is because you think he’s embarrassing,” he mocked, but you felt him shuffle closer, “I’ve definitely loved you for longer than I thought I had too, if it makes you feel any better.”

“Much better, Miss Bennet,” you laughed, linking your arms and leaning against his shoulder as he pressed a small kiss to the top of your head.

You felt Jess’ chest rise and fall as you closed your eyes and let the sound of the stream beneath you wash over you.

“So, like, I don’t know the protocol with the whole ‘best friends to lovers’ trope like you do, so you’re gonna have to help me out here,” Jess chuckled.

You sat back up to look at him whilst still keeping hold of his arm, “Hmm, I think what’s meant to happen next is you kiss me and ask to take me on a real date. Pretty sure that’s right.”

“Right, everyone’s favourite cliche moment,” Jess rolled his eyes jokingly but cupped your face with his palms, “God, what have you done to me?”

“You looove me,” your response was muffled as he pressed his lips to yours to shut you up, at first gently and then with a touch more urgency.

When you pulled away, he let go of your face and smiled softly, “So about that date?”

“You got it, Mariano,” you grinned, kissing him quickly once more as you paused, “But you’re going to have a tough time doing anything as romantic as annotating my favourite book and writing me a love note, you know.”

He scoffed, “Oh I’ve got plenty more where that came from, Y/N.”

“Is that a threat?” you giggled, leaning back into his side.

“Just you wait and see.”

———

ok so i kinda lost my way with this a bit eventually and i’m sorry it’s quite short but i had sooooo much fun writing it. i love jess so fucking much and i’m so grateful for all the jess requests i get — trying v hard to work through them asap because it’s so fun.

thanks for reading! here’s my masterlist for more <3

#jess mariano x y/n #jess mariano #jess mariano x you #jess mariano imagines #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano x reader #gilmore girls #gilmore girls imagines #gilmore girls imagine

308 notes · View notes

famwhy · 11 months

Text

Right Way Up (03)

Stranger Things

Yandere! Steve Harrington X F!Reader, Yandere! Eddie Munson X F!Reader, Yandere! Billy Hargrove X F!Reader

Synopsis: You always hated when your favourite characters died in shows or movies; always longed to have the opportunity to save them. So when you're transported into one of your favourite shows of all time, what else are you supposed to do besides save your beloved characters?

Warnings: Threat/violence, Gore, Mentions of sexual content (implicit), Death, Manipulation, Depictions of toxic relationships, Drugs and alcohol abuse

Note: I know Steve's initials are on this chapter but that doesn't mean this chapter is focused on him, just a head's up.

prev part. masterlist. next part.

03. bring unto me altruism

trait: s.h.

"YOU know him?"

Your gaze wandered over the top of the BMW, breaking away from the (very sturdy-looking) back of Billy Hargrove to instead lock eyes with Steve Harrington—the latter of which had his own optics thoroughly narrowed in your direction.

"Huh?"

"The new guy—" he scoffed out, and you watched as his lips tugged down, brows furrowed very harshly, "—do you know him?"

Ah, shit. You have got to stop slipping up, Y/N.

"No." The response came out quick—and you turning around to face Billy again came quicker. He was still walking off—skinny jeans making it almost impossible to ignore his figure, very clearly outlining his... ahem just as they had in the show. "I certainly wouldn't mind getting to know him, though."

"Ew, gross."

"Oh please, like you can talk."

"I can talk, actually, and—hey! Where are you going?"

Midway through his sentence, you had started off towards the school, strutting after the dirty blonde with just as much feigned confidence in your walk as he.

It was rude to walk off halfway through a conversation but that was probably the least of your worries right now. You had a plan and if you wanted to execute it, you couldn't let Billy out of your sight.

"Y/N?"

"Just heading to class, don't worry. Walk Nancy to her first period then head to yours, 'kay? I'll be fine."

What exactly were you doing? Simple—remember the other day when you had no clue where you were going and had to rely on Steve to get you to your classes? Well, today, you could follow Billy Hargrove and, with any luck, you'd end up finding the counselor without having to ask for help and sounding suspicious.

Although, the last of anyone's guesses as to why you were acting peculiar would be that you came from a whole other world; one wherein they were all characters on a screen with almost three-quarters of them being completely irrelevant to the plot and, therefore, not even paid the littlest of attention to by the audience.

Still, better to be safe than sorry.

You had many more worries running rampant in your mind, all loud and overwhelming, grand and all-consuming—almost to the point where you had bumped into the defined back of the 80s bad boy; a defined back which, all of a sudden, wasn't moving like it was just moments ago.

Why did he stop?

The answer to that question was written clearly on the solid plate stuck to the blank, beaten door before you: COUNSELOR.

Your ears perked up as a jingle sounded from the metal knob, a strong, slightly-tanned hand wrapped firmly around it.

The door refused to budge.

"Ah shit," came the steady curse of the broad male. His body had shifted after that, and even an idiot could tell that he was about to turn around, so you did what any sane person would do—you flung yourself to the side and crashed your butt against one of the chairs snugly tucked against the wall.

Ouch... you'd think the chairs next to the guidance counselor's office would be a little more comfy to land on.

If Billy had found your actions at all weird, he showed no signs of it—choosing, instead, to plop himself down on the seat next to you; pink lips pulled into a straight line and ocean-blue gaze as cool as steel. If eyes were the windows to the soul, then Billy's glass panes were sure-as-hell foggy beyond belief because you hadn't grasped a single glance at his soul.

But... you still knew what it looked like, the shattered crystals left behind in the wake of his past, ready to prick whoever dared come near with their razor-sharp edges—and that thought had your heart squeezing painfully, both in sympathy and guilt; sympathy for his unfortunate circumstances and... guilt for knowing so much about this boy who hadn't a single clue that you existed before... well, any of this.

"'S there a reason for your staring, princess?"

You blinked, all of a sudden being the recipient of a grin that didn't quite seem to reach the eyes of the sender.

"Huh?"—damn, caught lost in thought again—"Oh! Uh, you're my new neighbour, right?"

He arched a brow.

"Cherry Lane?" You added. "My brother told me someone moved in and you don't look like anyone I know."

His mouth stayed sewn shut and you chose to keep going.

"I think I saw you get out of your car earlier too, there was a California tag on it, is that where you used to live?"

Again. No words. Though, this time, his lips pulled taut and any sign of that previous expression had vanished.

"I always thought the Golden Coast was pretty." You weren't an idiot, you saw the change in his expression—the shift in his gaze—but you didn't let it stop you, continuing to speak with a small, gentle smile, "I'm thinking of going one day."

His eyes had softened a little at that, and he parted his lips—looking as though he was about to speak—when, all of a sudden, a sound reverberated through the near-empty hall, and he closed them once more, raising a brow before sending a pointed look your way.

You felt it coming, the rumble deep down in the pits of your stomach, but you were helpless in stopping it—in containing it—and it arrived before you could even blink—

—a low growl.

Your fist rose up, a light cough leaving your mouth as your gaze awkwardly drifted to the side. "I, uh, didn't eat this morning."

Silence.

Then—to your utter surprise—soft, mirthful chuckles flooded your ears, causing you to whip your head around so fast, you almost sprained your poor neck. Beside you was a sight for sore eyes; one that resulted in your jaw dropping all the way to the floor and your eyes practically bulging out with how much they'd widened.

Billy Hargrove—the Billy Hargrove—was laughing.

His soft, golden curls bounced with each bout of snickers that left his mouth—beautiful, azure eyes crinkled and barely visible past his squinted lids—and yet—they still looked just as striking as usual, as mesmerising and jaw-dropping as on TV—if not, more so.

And then, it really sank in.

You made Billy Hargrove laugh.

And it wasn't some fake, obligatory giggle—nor was it that little, psychotic laugh he did when hysteria clouded his usually-cold gaze—no, it was full-blown, genuine laughter. And you caused it.

That thought had your chest swelling with a lot more pride than it probably should've—

"What's up with the tattoo?"

The question left his mouth much more comfortably than his previous words, flowing out with a small, slightly-smug quirk of his lips, and it took you a moment to register the fact that he had stopped chuckling, his gaze having drifted down—specifically, towards your wrist.

You trailed his gaze, finding yourself being met with the three, thick lines that had been there since the day you arrived in this world and—unsure of why they were there yourself—you shrugged. "Dunno, I think I got it while blackout drunk once."

Something about your response must've been funny because he officially chuckled for the second time since meeting you. "I didn't know you country folk knew how to party that hard."

Now, you might've not been from Hawkins yourself but... something about the way he said that had your eyes narrowing slightly in his direction, and you sprung up from your seat, the underside of your thighs suddenly being greeted by cold air.

"Watch it. We can party just as hard as you Calis."

Your pupils grew shaky as you stood there, watching the next set of his actions with a tingling feeling deep down in your stomach.

One hand on his denim-clad knee, defined biceps flexing as he slowly rose up—your eyes rising with him. And as he took a step closer to you—lips twitching further up with a glint in his eyes you couldn't quite discern—you found yourself starting to slowly lose your breath, hands growing just the slightest bit clammy with the sudden blaze of active nerves you were struck with.

"Yeah?"

You gulped. "Yeah."

You felt hyper-aware as a rough, sun-kissed hand slid around your waist—fitting perfectly against the curve of your back, slowly dragging you closer, and sending a flurry of pleasant tingles straight up your spine to meet with the group that started to steadily arise in your chest; a chest that was mere millimetres from the thin, cotton material that covered his own.

Then, he leaned towards your ear, lips grazing the lobe as he whispered—a sultry lull bleeding into his tone—"Why don't you show me just how hard you can party, huh?"

Your breath audibly hitched in your throat but—before you could fret over what he'd say next, how he'd respond to your silly, little fumble—a 'click!' sounded from your side, and you threw yourself straight out of his sturdy arms quicker than a bolt of lightning—just in time, too, for the face of an older woman emerged from within the office not even moments later.

"Ah," the lady nodded, "you must be William."

Your eyes flitted over to him just in time to catch the way his jaw ticked.

"It's Billy, actually." And when he responded, his voice came out cold, different to the playful lilt it held just moments before.

It didn't take a genius to figure out the name struck a nerve.

"Ah, my bad. Would you like to come in and grab your schedule, Billy?"

He didn't respond but did as she asked, brushing past you to walk into the smaller room, only sharing a brief few seconds of eye-contact as he walked past—but those brief few seconds were enough to grant you just a tiny glimpse into the thunderous storm hidden within the pools of his irises—

—and as the door shut behind him, your lips tugged down.

You couldn't help but let your mind wander to the way his muscles seemed to tense up at the mention of California, freeze in what you could safely assume was caused by his longing to return to the freedom of his home state.

To be forced to depart from your home was nothing new, but you truly felt for Billy and his circumstances. His dad was more than hard on him—he was downright abusive, and Billy was forced to endure it without a single soul in his corner to help him through it, to guide him down the right path and teach him how to break out of the cycle of abuse he was forced into upon being born.

He was only eighteen. A goddamn child. He shouldn't have had to go through what he did.

He should've had the chance to redeem himself.

But that chance was squandered in Season 3, ripped from him akin to how his life was—a grotesque limb of mixed flesh having pierced through his chest, several other messed-up tentacles latched painfully onto his sides, bleeding him dry, draining the life from his eyes.

He didn't deserve to die.

Officially bummed-out by your own trail of thoughts, you heaved out a sigh before your ears perked up at a familiar 'click!' and your head snapped to the door again.

Out came Billy, the smug twitch of his lips back on his face—it was so comfortably situated there, in fact, that if any other person had seen it, they'd have assumed it was there the whole time.

But, despite him looking perfectly fine as he walked out of the old office, you still felt the urge to fly into his arms and wrap him in an embrace filled to the brim with promises; promises to at least provide him some level of support for what he was going through and what he would go through. Though, unlike with Eddie, you couldn't act upon it.

See, Billy and Eddie were two completely different people—where Eddie had brushed off your sudden hug quite easily—happily welcomed it, even—Billy would definitely question it, especially considering the fact that he didn't even know who you were.

And so, although it took all of your willpower, you refrained from throwing yourself onto him—choosing, instead, to stand still as he sauntered over, fingers rising up to brush against your shoulder gently; teasingly.

"See ya 'round, princess."

Instantly, a flurry of tiny, winged creatures erupted in your stomach, sending tingles through your body—up your spine to seize you at your throat, clawing into your windpipe and rendering you motionless in astonishment and awe and—

Was it just you or was it getting hot in here?

"Y/N?" You blinked, attention turning to the dark-haired female suddenly stood before you. "What are you doing here?"

Forcing yourself to forget that... whatever that was, you let a small, sheepish smile curve onto your lips. "Actually, miss, do you mind if I ask for a reprint of my schedule?"

"A reprint?" She rose a brow, arms slowly folding over her chest. "I thought you already had it memorised."

"Oh, uh,"—cue a small, nervous giggle—"you see, it kinda like... slipped my mind, y'know? And I already lost my old one so... can I have that reprint?"

She stood there for a little while longer—letting you really bask in the glory of her heavy judgement—before finally heaving out a sigh through her nose, sounding like she just aged up another ten years as she spun on her heel, full, brown curls bouncing after her.

The ground was smooth, friction practically non-existant as you rocked on your heels, awaiting the piece of paper with bated breath. The ticks of the clock suddenly didn't seem so much like white noise anymore as impatience furrowed your brows and your teeth jutted out, sinking a little into your bottom lip in anticipation.

Then, with a loud, echoing, "Y/N!"—someone had called out to you, but their voice was too high-pitched to be the one you were looking to hear—not to mention the fact that it came from the hall to your right as opposed to the office in front of you.

Your head whipped around just in time to have your whole body jerk a little as a girl skidded to an abrupt stop right next to you, her brown, soft-looking hair bouncing with an almost unnecessary amount of volume.

In her hands were several pieces of bright orange paper, all inked with a few words you couldn't quite make out—not without squinting at least.

"Hey!"

"Uh, hey..."

Who the hell was this again?

"How have you been? You haven't been to practice for a while now, the girls are pretty worried." As she spoke, she tucked a stray strand behind her ear and you squinted—trying to figure out where you'd seen her in the show.

"Oh, uh, I've just been a little sick, that's all."—seriously, who was this girl?—"I'm fine now though."

"That's great to hear!" She beamed, though her smile didn't quite seem to reach her eyes. "Listen, I'm having this party on Halloween and... I wanted you to be the first invite."

She extended one hand—flyer fit snugly between her fingertips—and you reached out, wrapping your fingers around the other end before she released it.

Eyes falling down, you took in the words written in... well, you didn't even know what font that was: TINA'S HALLOWEEN BASH. Come and get Sheet Faced.

Oh, so this was Tina.

"You'll be there, right?"

Your eyes flew back up and you were met with her intense gaze, swirling with a desperate, expectant plea you were almost saddened to see.

"Yeah," you nodded, "I'll be there."

If anyone saw the way her shoulders fell and the muscles on her face relaxed at your words, they would've assumed you took some sort of heavy anvil off her shoulders, freeing her of some sort of imaginary weight that was supposedly weighing her down.

"Thank you," she breathed out, voice practically inaudible over the air leaving her lungs.

Damn, were you that influential?—so much so that your presence would make or break a party?

"No problem?"

If you were being completely honest, you had no idea what to think of Tina—her character wasn't very explored in the show considering the fact that her role was very minor, the only thing she was really used for was the Halloween bash. But just from these few minutes with her alone, you could tell she was someone who heavily valued reputation.

"Okay, well, I should go," her voice pierced through your thoughts. "I'm thinking of inviting the new kid."

You parted your lips—about to say goodbye—when she twirled around and took off running, not even bothering to spare another glance your way.

Rude.

But as your gaze drifted down to the piece of paper in your hands once more, you found yourself uncaring of her rather unorthodox departure—too busy thinking about... something else.

"Y/N, here's your schedule."

Ah, nevermind the bash, you had your schedule now. You could finally know where you were meant to be for each period—albeit, it would take you a while to actually find the places but at least you knew what subjects you were meant to be in during the week. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Speaking of class, you were long overdue for your first period—

—and your teacher seemed to agree on that too, judging by the harsh glare situated on his face as soon as your sheepish form walked through the door. But hey, could he blame you? No, you were just trying to find your way around this stupid maze of a school.

Luckily, getting to your second class was much easier seeing as you passed it on your way to the first—but that didn't make it any less difficult to have to sit through. You were in Stranger Things—for fuck's sake!—what the hell did Newton's Third Law have to do with it?

You weren't ashamed to admit that you didn't pay attention to any of the other classes leading up to lunch—nor were you opposed to confessing the huge sigh of relief you let out once the long break period finally arrived, because—c'mon—who the hell paid attention to class when they just got transported to another world?

Not you.

So yes, you were currently happily strolling through the halls with your arms crossed over your books as you hugged said items to your chest, no sign of Steve in sight—but, you did catch a glimpse of a very familiar Lion's mane by a set of grey lockers in the corner of your eye.

"Eddie!"

Your voice must've come suddenly because he jumped as soon as you called out to him, head turning your way and one hand situating itself above his heart after he saw you. "Oh, Y/N!"

Your lips twitched up at just the sight of him. "What happened to 'sweetheart'?"

"Oh, uh, you want me to call you that? In front of all these people?"

And just like that, your lips tugged down. "Of course, why would that be a problem? Unless you're uncomfortable with it yourself—in which case, you don't have to call me by it."

Immediately, his head shook from side-to-side, messy hair bouncing crazily along with it. "No, no, not at all... sweetheart."

You'd be lying if you said that the nickname didn't garner a reaction from you; didn't result in your chest swirling with a blazing warmth.

Though, it also seemed to result in the jaw of the person stood next to him dropping to the floor; the same person you had just noticed was there in the first place. He had hair that was just as curly as Eddie's, but—unlike the male you knew—his was cut shorter, barely reaching past his ears really.

You knew this guy, he was one of Eddie's friends.

What was his name again? It started with a G. Let's see... Gavin..? No... Gary..? No...

Oh!

"Gareth right?" Relief washed through your insides when his head nodded, eyes wide and seeming to look through you, almost as if he couldn't even believe you were there, "It's so nice to meet another friend of Eddie's!"

"Another?" He seemed to have shot out of his trance at that, and it wasn't long before he gave you an incredulous look, gaze flickering over from you to Eddie, to you to Eddie, over and over again.

Then, all too suddenly, he pulled on the other male's arm and yanked him to the side—not even 3 feet of you—before resuming, "You're friends with the Queen Bee? How the hell did that happen?"

"You think I know?!"

Eddie's response was enough to garner a chuckle from you, causing both boys to quickly return their gazes to your form. Before they could comment on their fuck-up however, another voice came bellowing down the hall, calling out to you.

"Y/N!"

Unlike with Gareth before, you recognised that pretty face paired with those luscious ginger strands of hair straight away. How could you not? You had practically seen a thousand edits of them along with the 'Chrissy Wake Up' song on TikTok. Kinda hard to forget her after the Internet did its magic.

Though, it wasn't exactly unpleasant to be meeting her, and so, you gave her as bright a smile as you could muster. "Chrissy! Hey!"

"Hi!" She beamed right back at you, but unlike Tina, Chrissy's smile genuinely reached her glinting eyes, even going as far as adorably crinkling them up a little. "Tina said you were feeling fine now, do you mind coming to practice today? Only if you're okay! I know you've been sick so take as much rest as you need and don't feel pressured."

How the hell could you say no to that?

"Yeah, okay, sure! I'll come with you to practice."

You weren't sure how it was possible, but she seemed to light up even further at that, almost blinding you like the little ball of sunshine she was.

In fact, she was so distracting, you almost forgot the presence of the two boys dressed in a completely different colour pallet to you. Keyword: almost.

"Looks like that's my cue." You turned their way—if only to save your eyesight from genuinely deteriorating due to the light that was Chrissy. "It was nice meeting you, Gareth. Good to see you again, Eddie."

Just before departing, you ghosted your fingers over the covered shoulder of Eddie, wiggling them about like you had done to Steve just the day prior; a signature goodbye, if you will.

And as you walked down the halls, you picked up on one last thing coming from Gareth's mouth... one last thing that was enough to drill your feet straight into the ground.

"Eddie? Eddie, wake up!"

That phrase...

Flashes of Season 4 infiltrated your gaze; of the unfortunate victims that had their lives stripped from them; of the very girl stood next to you's body flying up, limbs distorting as they snapped irregularly, eyes not even having the pleasure of losing light with how unjustly they were gauged out from her.

Had you messed up somehow?

Had the events of Season 4 ended up being triggered too early by your mere existence?

The questions overwhelmed you—flooded through your senses and clogged up your airways with their untimely arrival. You were a puppet and they were the strings, ushering you to turn around; to rid yourself of the wool pulled over your eyes—of the blissful ignorance surrounding your form—and, helpless to their influence, you did exactly that.

Slowly, your head reared backwards—the room spinning around you—and your eyes were greeted by a welcome sight; one that breathed life back into your limbs.

Eddie stood there—eyes still very much on his face—with a familiar, light blush spread across his cheeks. Even as his form was being rapidly shook by his dear friend, he remained still, gaze trained on you. He only seemed to have snapped out of it after making proper eye-contact with you.

Two blinks. A small, shy raised hand. And a tiny wave.

False alarm. He was just flustered.

It made sense, your previous actions could be interpreted as flirting after all—and to be honest, you didn't really mind if it was (again, the Eddie Munson)—but, you'd be lying if you said he didn't just give you a bit of a scare there.

The sentence that just came out of Gareth's mouth was the very same, infamous sentence uttered by Eddie's lips just before the first death of Season 4—a rather brutal death involving the very ball of sunshine that was just tasked to retrieve you.

Speaking of that ball of sunshine—

"Y/N, you coming?"

You blinked, quickly returning Eddie's wave before whipping your head back around to face the ginger next to you once again.

You had to admit, it was very surreal coming face-to-face with people from the show who were meant to die—it felt kinda like seeing a ghost, and a part of you (just a teensy-weensy, little part) found it... well... unsettling.

But, that was just a small part.

"Yeah. Let's go."

You shook off the residual fear that lingered from that little moment before finally continuing to follow Chrissy down the hall.

The whole walk was full of her detailing you on the failed practices of the cheerleaders in your absence. Apparently, Heather tried and failed to do a cartwheel into a back-flip as part of one of the routines before dramatically throwing her pompoms to the ground and angrily muttering that you could do it instead.

You had no idea who Heather was but you wished you were there to see it.

Oh, and—with you gone—it seemed as though a lot of the girls had taken to slacking off, opting to gaze longingly at the sweaty boys that played basketball just across the Gym instead of actually being productive.

You doubted that would get any better with Billy around now.

"Well, well, well," a high-pitched voice sliced through your thoughts and you blinked, finally noticing that you arrived at the Gym. "Look who finally decided to show up."

You recognised that puffed-up, blonde hair from the first day of your arrival, the stance she took on being an almost-exact replica of the one back in the infirmary.

"Finally done punching the daylights out of some random freak in school?" She scoffed out.

"Sarah," Chrissy hissed from beside you, "don't say that. Y/N's been sick recently."

"Sick of being just as aggressive as her brother?" Sarah rolled her eyes.

Before you could retort with your own defense, however, someone else had piped in—that person being a brunette with rather short, straight hair, "You're talking like you don't wanna fuck him."

Uh—what?

"Jenny!" Your eyes flitted over to the blonde just in time to catch her reddened cheeks.

"What? It's true, isn't it?"

"Whatever, let's just..."

Sarah trailed off there, jaw hanging open as her eyes seemed to land on something not within your immediate eyesight. And when you found yourself following her gaze—you located the subject of her interest, the lack of words suddenly making sense.

Golden curls you had the pleasure of seeing up close just this morning were farther now, having just barely passed through the entrance. A cigarette hung loosely from his lips as the electricity in his eyes zapped through the Gym before finally landing on you, lips edging up into what you could only call a smirk.

It wasn't long before he sauntered over, practically demanding all of the attention in the room with his walk; attention which was happily handed over to him on a sleek, silver plate.

"All this time I've been calling you princess... when you've really been a queen," as he spoke—voice as husky as ever—a teasing lilt laced into his tone, intensifying his gaze and overwhelming you with his suffocating presence. "Why didn't you say anything, dollface?"

Breathe, Y/N, breathe. Stand your ground.

You tried to, you really did—but, the only way you'd be able to keep your composure right now was by closing your eyes and pretending you didn't see him—

—so you did exactly that.

Your lashes fluttered shut and you envisioned a blank sea of darkness before uttering out a response, "Didn't think it was important."

"Yeah?" Now, while you might not have been able to see him, you could still very well hear him, and his voice was nothing short of the perfect mixture between smooth and rough and—

Stop. It.

For your own sake—and for fear of further falling apart—you chose not to say anything and only nodded.

That was a mistake.

Instant regret hit you square in the face when you felt the gentle touch of a few, rough fingers against your chin, tilting your head just enough to rest at an angle before a surge of warm air tickled your lashes.

And as he spoke—lips almost grazing your closed lids—those familiar flying pests made their home in your stomach, "Where'd those pretty eyes of yours go? Didn't seem to stop wanting to use them this morning."

Damn him and his smoothness.

In an effort to continue to save face, you resorted to squeezing your eyes even further shut—paying no mind to the blissful warmth slowly coating your form or the teasing snickers that left the bad boy's mouth; snickers which you could practically feel the vibrations of.

"What's the matter? Have I rendered Miss Queen Bee speechless?"

Your vision was dark but you could still see the smug smirk on his face. Just wait until you gathered yourself, you were gonna make him ten times more flustered than you—just wait.

The light clearing of a throat suddenly served as a reminder that you two weren't the only ones in the room and you found yourself feeling a little... cold when Billy pulled away.

Cold? Ugh, once again, damn him and his smoothness.

Finally deeming it safe to do so, you opened your eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the light once more before you were finally able to make out the slowly-shrinking figure of Billy Hargrove. But just as he reached the entrance of the Gym once more, he paused, one hand firmly gripping onto the frame as he called out to you over his shoulder.

"Keep your bed nice and warm for me, will ya, dollface?"

Your jaw dropped.

Someone else then said something along the lines of 'oh my god' but—if you were being honest—you were barely able to hear it over the echo of Billy's snickers as he walked away, completely amused by your reaction no doubt.

He was so unequivocally bold, you almost couldn't believe it.

"Uh, guys, I think I'm gonna take a raincheck on practice today." But, it seemed as though the other girls definitely could—judging by how the very girl who said this rushed right after Billy.

"Me too!"

"Yeah, uh, I think I'm feeling a little sick."

"Well, I, for one, am chasing up that boy."

"Not if I get him first!"

And as a majority of them rushed after the handsome male, you found yourself deadpanning.

"Bruh."

You definitely couldn't blame them though, the rest of your day was spent recalling all those scenes with him after all. Even Steve noticed your absent-mindedness in the last period of the day—trying several outlandish things to grab your attention that he only informed you of once the lesson was over.

You didn't even notice him waving his arms wildly in front of your face while the teacher's back was turned.

And even as you walked beside him, Nancy strutting ahead of the two of you after you'd picked her up from class, you still had your head roaming around in the clouds.

"Hey, Y/N?"

You hummed, half-listening, half-not.

Steve then leaned further your way, shoulder brushing your own as he whispered against your ear. "Wish me good luck?"

You blinked up at him, having paid enough attention to scrunch up your nose in confusion and ask, "Good luck for what?"

"The dinner. At Barb's?"

A few more blinks.

And then—

"Ohhhhh."

Nancy turned around at that, and Steve was quick to hush you. He only resumed talking when she faced forward once more—albeit, slower than she turned around.

"What are you doing? Trying to get me in trouble?!" His whisper came out harsh, and you winced a little.

"Alright, alright, gheez."

His attitude seemed to be at an all-time high because he rolled his eyes after that. "I just... don't get why I have to go to this stupid dinner anyway."

"Steve." It was your turn to harshly whisper. "Don't say that. Nancy needs closure, this dinner is exactly that."

You felt for Steve just a tad bit, it wasn't his best friend that died after all (thank god for that) but that didn't mean he got to complain about attending a dinner his girlfriend wanted him to be at because he was there the night of the first attack; of the first murder.

See, Barbara (or Barb) had been Nancy's best friend—the two being practically attached by the hip—so of course the night she died would be one that Nancy deeply regretted, and of course she would want closure with the parents of her best friend. It just made sense.

In fact, the whole reason why she did any of what she did in Season 2 was so that she could inform Barb's parents (who still thought their child was out there somewhere) that their kid was, in fact, dead.

"Y/N, you there?"

Caught in a monologue? Seriously, Y/N? What are you, the main character?

"Yeah, I'm here."

Seeing as you were already outside and stood right by Steve's car—you slotted your hand between the cold of both the handle and the door before pulling it open, leaping straight in, and causing the whole vehicle to jerk in a symphony of loud clangs from sheer force.

"Hey! Careful!" It seemed like your music wasn't appreciated by Steve though.

"Relax. It's not like I broke it or anything—" feeling like messing with him—because duh—a smirk slowly twitched onto your lips, "—besides, it's excited to see me, aren't you, girl?"

Steve let out another hiss when you patted the seat a little too harshly—sounding akin to a pissed off feline which just made him seem less menacing and more adorable.

Ha, you tried, Steve, you tried.

The click of the passenger door drew your eyes over to Nancy's form, watching as her legs entered one at a time before she took a seat and turned your way—"We're dropping you off then heading straight over to Barb's."—then, turning to Steve, "Right, Steve?"

You could already hear the grumbled out 'yes' coming from him and you only sent him a grin seeping with amusement when he met your gaze through the rear-view mirror—your lips stretching further as he mouthed the words 'help me' with anguish in his eyes.

"You two have fun, yeah?"

You said the sentence to piss Steve off even further but when you caught a glimpse of the look on Nance's face, a pang shot straight through your chest.

Her eyes had this far-away look about them as her lips curved up by a very small amount—though there was no joy in it, only grief.

"Hey..." you placed one hand on the shoulder of her seat, using it to pull yourself forward as you furrowed your brows, worry clouding your gaze. "You alright?"

She sniffled a little before waving her hand and nodding in response. "Yeah... yeah, I'm fine. Let's go."

Your lips tugged down and you shared a look with your best friend before he started the engine, breathing life into the vehicle as you slowly lowered your body back down onto the leather seat.

She wasn't fine; even without knowledge from the show, you could tell. She might not have been crying but her lip was definitely quivering a little and her eyes... well, they just weren't all... present in the moment.

But, she would be fine. And that was enough.

Besides, though it was cold to say, you had bigger things to worry about. Nancy would get help from Jonathan in order to come to terms with Barb's death—meanwhile, you had no one to help you out with all the spare knowledge you stored in your brain; with all the premonitions (if you could call it that) you were blessed with.

Perhaps it was time you started preparing for another bout with the demodogs—you were Steve's best friend, after all; that probably meant you'd most likely end up facing the dogs together with him later on in the Season.

"Y/N."

You perked up at the call of your name, shaking away the thoughts clinging to your brain.

"We're here."

Lo and behold, so it seemed you were, the familiar sidewalk leading up to your house being visible through the clear glass panes beside you.

Clicking open the door, you took one step out before swinging the rest of your body to follow after, and once you closed the door again, you walked over to the passenger-side window—shoes barely making a sound against the ground—before your knees bent down a little and you tapped lightly against the glass.

"Let the Hollands know I wish them the best, okay?" You offered a gentle smile to the girl sat before you, and she tried her best to muster one up in return.

"Okay..."

"See you guys."

And with a brief wave, you quickly spun around and headed towards the relatively-normal house.

You now—thankfully—had keys of your own so there was no need to knock or anything. Well—it was more like you had them all this time but didn't know where they were and just so happened to find them the other day but—details, details.

After fiddling with the keys a little, you heard a 'click!' and pushed against the handle before entering, one hand moving behind you to carefully shut the door.

"I'm home."

Curt's voice was the first to greet you—albeit, not very genuinely. "Congratulations, want a trophy?"

Uh, yes, actually. You would very much like a trophy after coming back home in one piece in the world of Stranger Things.

"We're having pasta tonight!" Luckily, Cain's words were a lot more welcoming than the other brother.

So, as was your right, you ignored your second oldest brother in favour of responding to the first. "Ooh! Pasta?!"

You had to admit, his cooking the other night was rather good—okay, it was magnificent, you just didn't wanna admit it because you stormed off the other day before being able to properly finish it.

But now that you could—

Before you could finish that train of thought, three loud knocks resounded through the room, no doubt coming from the door behind you.

Huh.

Was that Steve? Did he forget to say something?

You lightly wrapped your palm around the handle, turning it slowly before the door was open once more, a sudden, light breeze hitting you square in the face—

—though, the breeze could never be more sudden than who you saw at the door.

It wasn't your swooshy-haired companion to greet you on the other side—no—but rather, an older woman with barely visible bags underneath her drooping eyes; eyes which seemed to have lost all light, almost appearing chillingly lifeless—

—well, that was until they lit up at the sight of you.

"Oh, Y/N! Baby! I've missed you so much!"

And as she threw herself onto your form—arms engulfing you wholly, emotionally—you found yourself blanking out for once, only one thought popping up in your head:

What. The. Fuck.

@bdudette, @tanyaherondale, @killerqueenfan, @l3xiluve, @thedoubleexposurephotography, @xxqueenofdemonsxx, @briarsheart, @nickey-diano, @uselessbutinteresting, @steeldaisies, @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom, @patheticreative, @majestichugs, @eddiesbitch83, @secretdryrose, @bloodywickedvamp, @charlizekkelly

Did Billy give you guys butterflies or what? 😏 (Srsly tho, I need to know if I'm writing him well—)

489 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

Note

Aita for not making any of my characters, that I have to crank out daily, pansexual/polysexual/omnisexual specifically and only making them bi?

🏳️‍🌈👶🏼 so i can recognize this later lmao also I'm not panphobic or anything, this isn't about the validity of the label, pan is fine.

So i (20snb bi) have a project I'm working on where I take all the characters from a specifc media I'm into and pair them up with each other to make every possible ship kid from every possible ship(excluding characters who are kids themselves or are related or something, that shit is gross). Basically taking every character and pairing them up with another and creating a kid I think they'd have. Its a big project with lots of characters and I'm easily over 400 at this point. I really enjoy this, even if I'm not even 25% complete.

However I set a schedule for myself that at least one ship kid needs to come out each day which, considering I draw them, color them and give them some development and some even have siblings, (The refs themselves easily take me an hour to an hour and a half) I have to make lots of them quickly to keep up with my daily grind. I've been doing this project for over a year and although it's stressful, I can get them out quickly with breaks for myself.

Their character sheets all have some pretty basic info like their name, gender, pronouns, personality and more but it also includes their sexuality/orientation. I have a pretty basic list of options for what their sexuality will be: straight, lesbian, gay, Enbian, bi, Aro, ace and aroace with a few random things like polyam, WLW and a good amount of the something-loving-something/juvelic terms. I did this because, well, there's not many entirely unique orientations outside of them and although I love mogai/xenogenders and complex identities, I dont want to potentially drag up discourse or bring problems to my budding art blog over it. Its just not worth it to me to turn something I really care about on its head, even if I like microlabels.

In this case, I'm using bi as an umbrella term as most of the other terms share the same definition with slight variations in wording or action but not much difference in practice. We all like everyone, it's basic stuff. However, apparently this is a problem.

I've gotten one or two anons asking me questions about my guides asking some kind stuff like is this lesbian ship kid a butch or femme or Is this picture of them now or just at the age you put on the ref and other harmless stuff. Then things got rude with some Nbphobia but thrice now I've gotten asks:

1. Asking snarkily if im a panphobe

2. insulting me for not specifically writing pan or Omni and just writing bi.

3. Saying that I "clearly dont care about pansexual representation." Then brought up how my primary oc is native american so i clearly care about representation but that oc used to be a sona and I'm native?? Its confusing. (And Lowkey racist shit to just assume any native character is a "diversity quota" character instead of just a person existing but I digress-)

Im not pan, im bi so ig these people assume I'm not cool with pan people which isnt true? I have nothing aginest them, they are just pretty similar and I dont feel like it matters if they are specfically bi or pan or poly or any other label. I don't go into details like that for any other sub-group, not even pronouns and I included combinations and some common Neopronouns. I understand the importance of representation but my project has less than 50 people looking at it every day, Im not netflix or something. I'm one guy on the most LGBT blogging site with a big project and very little audience, I'm not showing people who wouldn't already know what pan is that pansexuality exists.

This project isn't that deep considering the characters in question aren't human/dont have human characteristics.(no it's not hazbin/helluva) Also ive never spoken about lgbt discourse or stated anything remotely close to it beyond the guides just passively having characters who are an LGBT identity. I've not even mentioned all the potentional orientations they could have so I'm not sure where/why this came up in the first place. The most politcial things ive said are calling out a creator in my fandom who outed themselves as a transphobe and mentioning im pro-palestine. That's it.

I mean this is pretty low stakes, I can just block these people and be done with it and this some seriously online shit but I just wanna check.

Am I being an asshole for just writing bi instead of specifying their mspec label because I have to produce characters quickly and I don't see enough of a difference to warrant a change/specification that would ultimately slow and clog an already stressful and complex project?

I dont think I am but idk lol

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

152 notes · View notes

mintaikcorpse · 28 days

Text

Why Stolas likes Blitzø

(Continuation of this post. Tldr ar the end bcuz this is long.)

Yes, Ik how they first saw each other after 25 years. Yes, ik it could have started as lust that turned into love. Yes, it's an escape from his shitty marriage. Yes, it's probably Stolas loving sterotypical romance tropes. BUT, I think that there's more than meets the eye.

(Also, when I talk about Stolas meeting Blitzø, assume it's after the 25 years unless I specify it's when they were kids)

I think Stolas likes Blitzø for how different he is than what he's seen in his life. Blitzø is loud, outgoing, confident, and just an overall gremlin. He also doesn't hide his negative traits. He's rude and literally just screams about how much he dislikes something. He's not afraid to tell people to shut it when he's sick of them. Compare that to Stolas's life, where he just learns to internalize shit and accept life as it is while following all these weird-ass royalty standards.

And listen. In my "Why Blitzø Likes Stolas" post, I said that a major reason that Blitzø likes him is because he's dramatic and wears his heart on his sleeve. But that's Stolas when he's with the people he cares about, like Blitzø and Octavia. In his regular life, Stolas is a reserved, quiet introvert who's used to other Goetia's shitting on him all the time. Before he met Blitzø, he just took people's shit and was awkward when it came to voicing what he wanted (he literally stuttered 😭). And then, he met Blitzø, who was loud and confident and came across as not caring what people thought (we know he cares a bit bcuz he looked self conscious when in the room with other Goetia's, but Stolas didn't know that). And he was really forward with what he wanted as well, which Stolas never even considered that he was allowed to do. Going back to when he was a child (bcuz this shit always starts when your young and stupid), Stolas literally cried when he realized he was going to marry Stella, and instead of Paimon listening to him to see why, he just distracted him by taking him to The Circus. Distracting your saddness and anger with other things, amiright? This is how alcohol addictions start, gang). This just shows how Blitzø being really confident and forward was just- not something Stolas was used to in his life!

Stolas probably likes how rude Blitzø is as well, if that makes sense. Like I said, Stolas grew up in royalty, and being polite is a huge thing, but being polite can just turn into being a doormat. And, I'm sure all Blitzø lovers noticed this, but he's litterally so rude. Like, he's a secret softy, but he's rude. He screams at Moxxie whenever he gets. He plays loud music and badly sings along with his employees in the car. Stolas litterally heard Blitzø insult Moxxie just because he could (S2 Episode 2, Seeing Stars). And yes, this is a negative trait, but I still think Stolas likes it a bit bcuz, let's be real here, he was a fucking doormat, and he admires Blitzø for just openly being rude.

Edit: One person pointed out that the reason Stolas responds positively to Blitzø's rudeness and insults but negatively to Stella's is because Stella means to be awful while Blitzø insults him out of love (Truth Seekers as evidence)

They also both have a weird fucked up sense of humor. Stolas is the only one to laugh at Blitzø's joke at the Circus when talking about the "gross worm horse," because it was scientifically correct (I love this guy), and he's the only one to laugh at his jokes in Seeing Stars, despite them being incredibly violent ("And then that BITCH *something something, I don't remeber the exact quote and i dont feel like checking* SHATTERED HER SKULL! There was Blood everywhere!"), and Stolas is laughing like it's the funniest thing he's heard because there probably WAS blood everywhere! And let's be real here, laughing at his jokes is a BIG sign that someone likes someone in media.

Okay, imma bring this up. Yes, Stolas had a crush on Blitzø when they were kids. Yes it was cute. Yes, his blushing was adorable. BUT, kids have crushes differently than teenagers and adults. In elementary school, a girl I knew had a crush on a boy because he had a cool shirt. Stolas probably started having a crush on Blitzø because his doll was an imp, and Stolas was mostly raised by the imp butler, so he found comfort in imps. I wouldn't call that fetishization just yet, bcuz he was just a kid, but I just want to point it out. And while I do think this, I think he also started liking Blitzø as a kid because he thought he was funny and fun to hang out with.

Also, Blitzø is just- silly! He likes bad jokes. He sticks his tongue out when he's being a troll. He loves horses and draws them all the time- even drawing Stolas & Via as horses and giving it to Stolas as a gift (I'm not making this up, this was from Blitzø's twitch because he had that)

He makes goofy faces all the time. His eyes dilate when he's happy. He loves games. He follows the "Byeeeeee <3" trend in cartoons. He likes playing with stickers. He likes going to the park and playing with the horse toys 😭

And going back to the "He grew up in royalty thing where he had to fit rigid social standards," thing, all of this would just be cute quirks to Stolas bcuz he's not used to it! He admires Blitzø a lot just because of how much of himself he is!

Blitzø is also really brave (reckless depending on who you ask, but we're on Stolas's perspective here!). Blitzø, the lowest denizen of Hell, scaled the walls of a literal Goetia prince bcuz he wanted to fuck him (again, Stolas's perspective). His business is about going to Earth, something implied to be illlegal if you don't have permission from a higher up, to kill people. He's litterally an assassin and skilled in combat. And, if you haven't figured it out by now, a lot of crushes start by admiring the traits that you don't have (how we all confused gender envy with crushes, lmao). And while I'd argue that Stolas is pretty brave now (going full demon mode on Earth, still standing his ground when Striker was threatening him, "THAT WAS THE SOUND OF A FUCKING DIVORCE!"), he wasn't when he met Blitzø. I already talked about him being a doormat, so I won't talk about it again, but we all know how he was.

And, my favorite thing about romantic ships, ✨️The Connection✨️. Blitzø and Stolas spend a lot of time together on the Full Moon, and sometimes not even all the Full Moon. A basic thing of BDSM etiquette is after care and making sure your partner is okay. And, knowing Stolas's romantic heart, he probably fell harder during the aftercare, where they had to care for each other and talk about stuff. Honestly, I wish they showed the aftercare in the show bcuz I feel like it could add so much more context to their relationship. VIVZIE, PLEASE!

I've been keeping this mostly PG13, but yes, they are very sexually compatible, which Stolas has literally never felt until sleeping with Blitzø.

Blitzø is also just a very loving person. He doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve like Stolas, but when he likes something, he lets everyone know . He loves his daughter and is super affectionate with her. He loves his business and his employees, and he likes getting to know them and doing fun stuff with them (Harvest Moon festival). Like said before, he loves horses and draws them all the time and carries little horse toys with him everywhere. Like, THIS IS HIS FACE WHEN HIM AND STOLAS MADE HORSES OUT OF CANDLE WAX TOGETHER. It's so cute!

Stolas grew up litterally being told, "Excitement is unbecoming of a Goetia" (S2, episode 1, The Circus), and Blitzø is literally excited a bunch of the time. Honestly, I think it's really sweet that they both like each other for the emotion they show.

Oh! This too! Bryce Pinkham said that Blitzø is "someone that Stolas fan truly be himself around."

Stolas doesn't feel like he has to put an act on around Blitzø. Notice how he's a lot more open and theatrical around Blitzø, and he's not afraid to get dressed up (he never got dressed up for the Gortia parties other than his basic outfit, lol). He's goofy and flirty with him and acts really excited and affectionate and smiley and just- overall a lot more comfortable! Compare that to when he's with the other people, where he's more reserved and quiet ang goes along with whatever. Yes, The Goetia party, but that's with people he hated. Compare it to how he was when he was helping Ozzie. Yes, you could argue that he was nervous about the Asmodean crystal and Fizz, but it's still a noticeable change. He's quiet and seems stiffer than when he is with Blitzø.

(The only other person he is open with like he is with Blitzø is Via, and he also loves Via. Honestly, he's just a really outgoing person with the people he loves/feels comfortable around).

Idk what else to say. I've been typing this shot for 2 hours straight. Enjoy my weird Ted talk about a kinky owl demon. If you have anything you'd like to add, please tell me, I'd love to hear it!

Tldr; Stolas likes Blitzø because he's different than what he's used to, he's confident, he's himself, they both have a weird fucked up sense of humor, he's brave, he's silly, they have a connection past sex, they're very sexually compatible, Blitzø is a very loving snd passionate person, and Stolas can be himself around him.

Okay, extremely dumb thing that doesn't matter, but did you know Barn Owls are attracted to Barn Owls with a lot of spots? Please note that Blitzø's scars made him have a lot of spots around his body. This person also went over gay barn Owls courtship and its litterally how Stolas and Blitzø first slept together, I can't stand this show sometimes 😭

#stolas #stolas goetia #helluva boss stolas #stolas helluva boss #blitz #blitzo #blitzo helluva boss #helluba boss blitzo #blitz helluva boss #helluva boss blitz #blitzø helluva boss #helluva boss blitzø #helluva boss #stolitz #blitzø #helluva boss analysis #helluva boss notes #long post

105 notes · View notes

dozing-marshmallow · 9 months

Note

helloo!! i saw that your requests were open and wokred up the coruage to send in a request :] i rarely see chris mclean x readers (despite him being a fan favorite, methinks) and i kinda wanted to see if you could write hcs of him x a young nibling!reader who participates in tdi? (nibling is the gender neutral term for niece/nephew - since i want a nonbinary/gn reader :])

basically having to do with anything; basic interaction between reader and chris, his reaction or what he'd do if reader got hurt, etc. ty!! :]

Hello there!! Thank you so much for the request, it turned out a lot more wholesome than I expected! And yeahh I agree with you there that there isn’t a lot of Chris McLean content despite the large number of people appearing to like him in the fandom which hurtss ;A; but nonetheless! I hope this makes an enjoyable read, and that you feel more welcomed to send in future requests <3

CHRIS MCLEAN X NIBLING! READER HEADCANONS

Ever since you were younger, you always had a strong bond with your uncle, and were always excited whenever he came over.

However, there was never a time where you went over to his place, since he was always busy.

Up until this summer, where Chris got the job hosting a brand new reality show where teenagers would compete in challenges in hopes to win a large amount of money.

After talking with your parents, your uncle was ecstatic to announce that you were going to spend the holidays with him on the show.

It felt like preparing for a sleepover! You had to pack everything you’d need for the two months: your pyjamas, your toothbrush, a variety of clothes, your portable movie player, (naturally) some movies and your mountie stuffed bear.

“Be careful when you get there, (Y/N)! My brother always had a bit of crazy in him.” Your mother advised, kissing you goodbye and watching you get on the boat for Camp Wawanakwa.

“Uncle Chris!” You called out to him, seeing him wave at you from the dock. Frantically, you wave back.

“(Y/N), welcome!” He ebulliently greeted you, helping you out of the boat. Once you got on the same ground as him, you share a hug before he walks you down the island, rolling your suitcase for you.

“Are they recording yet?” You asked, looking around. It’s so big!

“Not yet, we will be in fifteen minutes!”

“Is this...where we’re staying?” You didn’t want to be rude, but the island wasn’t as tropical or as vibrant as Chris made out to be.

“Nope! It’s where they’re staying.” He laughed, referring to the teenagers,“We’ll be staying at my crib that’s just around the corner.”

Upon learning that Chris McLean was an uncle, the campers were keen on leaving a good impression on you, especially since what you thought of them actually did play a role on their chances in the competition.

It goes without saying, there were some foul people that painfully obviously wanted to use this kin as a tool for themselves. Exhibit A:

“Hey kiiiid.” Heather came over to you during her free period. The smile she had on her face was too kind to be true. You’re also sure she forgot your name,“Really cute pair of overalls you’ve-“

You pause your movie,“What do you need?”

Ah, cut to the chase,“Listen. You know all the challenges that Chris has in store for us, right?”

“Mhmm! Gross stuff.”

She leans on your chair, intrigued,“What do you want in exchange of helping me win immunity?”

This was precious. She’s asking you for help. You place a finger to your chin, thinking carefully,“Hmm... A pony!”

Her nose wrinkles,“Ah...not that.”

“But that’s the only thing I don’t have yet...” you whine. So much for negotiation!

“Why not something more realistic? Like...” she struggled to think of something appealing to give you from her conditions,“Ugh you know what, forget it. Just forget it.”

Good riddance! Let’s look at an example where a camper was in your favour.

It was dinner time and the contestants were stuck eating their questionable sloop.

Using Chris’ pointed attention on Chef, you snuck out into the mess hall and crawled under the table of the Screaming Gophers.

“Psst. Leshawna.” You tugged at her shirt from underneath.

“(Y/N)?” She keeps her voice low, peering down at you,“What are you doing there, baby?” Leshawna was always so nice to you- and not because she wanted an advantage, but because that’s who she is.

That’s why you decided to do this for her,“I wanted to give you some of what we’re having.” You place a wrapped up burger and an ice cream tub on her lap, resulting her to internally squeal and cover her face’s lower half in joy.

“For me?! Oh, you’re an angel... Thank you, sweetie!” She gushes, squeezing your cheeks, amazingly attaining a low voice.

Also there was no reason for you to be sneaky: Chris would’ve allowed you to treat your favourites overtly if it meant hostility could grow among them. You knew that- you just enjoyed feeling like a spy.

Which would have consequences for getting your forehead grazed and knee scraped later: like any kid, you wanted to explore around your new environment; not during the day when everyone would be awake, that’s no fun, but when the sky was mixed with tangerines and blueberries.

You made sure Chris was still sleeping, for no adventure could be fun if someone knew exactly where you were going.

Putting on your wellington boots, you left through the back door of his mansion and embarked into the woods, humming, singing, throwing your stuffed bear in the air and catching it as it came back down.

All was going well, until a sudden blast of an air horn terrified you out of your skin. With the ground shaking, you lose balance and fall into a pile of leaves. To your horror, you discover your stuffed bear not landing with you, but rolling off the hill.

Urgently, you leap to your feet and was smart enough to know you were approaching the edge- a wrongly timed tree root thought differently, leading you to roll too. Bluntly.

“Ow...ow...ow!”

For what felt like ages, you finally came to be stationary and in dizzy vision, you saw your intact teddy bear in front of you.

You would’ve cheered, but your suspiciously wet forehead contracted your arm, seeing the freshly imprinted red on your palm reminding your consciousness of a similar sensation on your knee,“Ohhh that’s not good...”

“Hey Chef... Do you know where (Y/N) is?”

“(Y/N)? I thought you had ‘em.”

Chris’ instinctive worry quickly morphed into nonchalance once he heard your tale, but was still willing to bandage you,“You had me all worried just for that to be the case?”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Did you have fun?” He asked, cleaning your knee.

“I did.”

“Then you’re spared. You gotta be more careful though. If it was anything more serious, your parents will never let you into my hands again.”

Really? Over this?,“Ohhh, but I’m fine! I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

“Haha, you’re lucky you’re not my child.” He joked in response,“Alsoooo, while we’re on the topic of home, they called.” He walks over to his drawer and extracts a dreadfully familiar booklet, smirking at you,“Looks like someone forgot to pack their summer homework.”

You groaned,“Nooo... Why did you show me that? I thought I was on holiday, aren’t I meant to relax?”

Chris chuckled, shrugging,“Education is the scam of the century, (Y/N)! You’ll get used to it.”

“No faiiiir. I’m a kid! I should get to be on holiday forever!” You protested.

“Shouldn’t we all? Sadly, it’s one of those yucky things of life.” He wears a mocking melancholic look.

You blow a raspberry,“More like the yuckiest! Why does school have to exist in the first place? It’s sooo boring!”

“We can all agree with you there, my dear child,” He rubs your head in pity.

You tittered,“You’re the coolest, uncle Chris! If I said that back home, mom wouldn’t let me watch tv for the rest of the day.”

He laughs with you,“She was never the fun one in the family.” He goes serious,“Don’t tell her I said that, or else you won’t be the only one with an injury.”

“Got it!”

After Chris was done patching you up, you take the booklet outside, sulkily murmuring,“Nghh... I don’t wanna do this...”

Courtney happened to be nearby when she heard your dilemma,“Hey (Y- What happened to you? Are you alright?” Her concern real.

“I’m fine...”

“Aw! Poor thing. You can’t do homework when you’re unwell! Want me to help you?” She offered...to do algebra?

“Sure! It’s one of my best suits, especially as a CIT!” She enthusiastically seizes your booklet from your hand and immediately starts answering the first page. You watch in bewilderment.

She’s so smart...! Like a robot!

“(Y/N)? Any camper you want to give invincibility to tonight?” Your uncle asked with a smile.

“Uh... I really like Gwen, but I also like Leshawna...” you sheepishly selected.

Keeping his smile, he turned to said campers and threw both of them a marshmallow.

“That’s my buddy!” Leshawna cheered.

“Thanks (Y/N)!” Gwen’s sweet smile tainted ruthlessly to Heather.

“Brat.”

It was funny seeing Heather get annoyed.

After the week’s elimination ceremony, you gave Chris a toothy grin,“Unnnncle, wanna play uno with me?”

“You bet I do! Wanna invite Chef?” He asked, taking your hand.

“Yeah!”

#chris mclean #request #tdi x reader #tdi #total drama island chris #uncle chris mclean #nibling reader #nibling #chris mclean x reader #td chris mclean x reader #total drama chris mclean #td chris #total drama #total drama headcanons

199 notes · View notes