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monzabee · 5 months ago

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the smallest man who ever lived - cl16

masterlist || part 2 || part 3 ||

Summary: The one where you’re thrown into a conundrum when you learn the news of your husband, Charles’, infidelity.

Pairing: charles leclerc x wife!reader; carlos sainz x reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: angst, cheating, crying, manipulation(?), charles is an absolute asshole (but so is the reader) (but she’s kinda also badass?) (toxic relationship?), even more assholish carlos (gasp), blackmail, mention of pregnancy, mention of sex and sexual acts, physical confrontation (literally just pushing someone off but still)

Request: “Hey girl can I request something angsty with Charles? Maybe Charles cheating on Y/N (we’re already famous and have been married to Charles for years) and the fighting, the finding out, his guilt, angst, etc.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! thank you to the anon who requested this because i had the time of my life working on it, and it might be the first fic i wrote in one go for the last six months or so!! also thank you to the getting cheated on playlists i found on spotify and amy dunne for giving me the inspiration to make the reader as toxic as i could. special thanks to @norrisleclercf1 and @percervall who had to listen to me talk about this fic NONSTOP. this is definitely something very different to what i usually write, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

There are moments in life where you feel like a complete and utter idiot. Although it could be for no apparent reason at all, there is a perfectly explainable reason why you feel like that right now, in the middle of your trailer on the set, with your manager and publicist both looking at you like you could explode at any given moment. It took you a good amount of time to wrap your head around the news, the news that wrecked you into a million of pieces which left you as the only person who can put them back together.

“Let me get this straight,” you start, still trying to wrap your head around the news, “they were photographed leaving the club, and there’s a–?”

“Sex tape, yes.” Your manager mumbles, earning himself a side-eye from your publicist. “It was so kindly attached to the email.”

“And it is anonymous?” You ask, earning curt nods from both. “Well,” you manage to get out, pressing your lips together not to let out a sob, or a laugh, both? “That is very ambitious of him.”

Your publicist shares a concerned look with your manager, then turns to you, “I guess so? How would you want us to handle this? I can buy us some time until these are released to public, but I think getting a statement ready just in case is essential given the fact that both of you are public figues. We can say that you’ll attend marriage councelling–”

Your loud laugter cuts her off in the middle of her sentence. “And just why would we do that?”

“I–” She gives you another concerned look as she softens her voice, which is quite uncharacteristic for her, you realise. “How would you want us to approach it then?”

“I don’t want you to approach it at all.” You voice cuts through the tension, your gaze fixed on her. “I’ll handle it.”

“But Charles–” She tries to reason, but you cut her off again.

“Decided to get his dick wet where it certainly didn’t belong, he’s a big boy – he’ll survive.” Fixing her with a final look, you turn to your manager instead. “I don’t want this going to Charles or his team’s ears, that’s what the email said, and we should honour it, no?”

His expression turns into a smirk, matching the one playing on your lips as he nods in thougt, “Would you like us to do anything else? We can talk with the production if you need a couple of days to… well, recuperate. Greta would understand.”

“No.” Your answer is final as you shake your head. “She thinks this is an Oscar worthy project, I’m not throwing it away because my husband decided to think with his dick and not his brain. Just call my lawyers and tell them to be on stand by.”

“Should I also book you tickets to Monaco still?” He asks in a monotone tone.

“Well of course,” you reply in a sweet voice, widening your eyes for dramatic effect, “it’s a family event.”

Your publicist eyes the both of you, “Okay,” as she drags the word out, “are you sure you don’t want to take a couple of days off?”

“Positive. I have an EGOT to win.” Raising the script you have in your hands in the air, you announce, “I have lines I need to go over, is that all?”

And as they leave your trailer to give you some space to ‘go over your lines’, you let a few tears escape your eyes, promising yourself that you would make Charles feel a thousand worse what he made you feel in the moment.

It is not surprising or a sudden revelation that Monte Carlo has good weather all year around. But as it happens with the last few weeks following you learning about your husband’s infidelity, all you feel is cold – and no amount of warm weather is enough to make your heart feel warmer again. As you stand at the terrace of Café de Paris, overlooking the cityscape of Monte Carlo, all you can think about is how you just want to get this part of you plan over with as fast as possible.

“Chérie!” The voice you hear makes a lump perpetually situate itself in the middle of your throat, but you brace yourself for the worst as you turn on your heels to face the person you’re most scared of facing in this whole situation. “Look at you, you look incroyable! You had me scared when you told me you were catching the redeye, and that we just had to talk!”

“Pascale,” you breathe out as the woman pulls you into her arms with the warmness of any mother would do, and for that brief moment, you feel better than you have in weeks. “It’s so nice to see you again,” giving her the warmest smile you can muster up in the circumstances as you pull back, fixing your gaze at the figure behind her as you nod your head in acknowledgement, “Arthur.”

“Maman is right,” Arthur says as he opens his arms, “you do look good.”

“Well, thank you.” You reply as you give him a quick hug, and motion the table as you pull back. “Shall we?” Call it common curtesy, or cowardice, the fact that you don’t directly get to the point. Either way, you talk about what you’ve missed in the couple of months in which you’ve been away filming. You’re not necessarily paying attention, though the endtail of Pascale’s sentence catch your attention. “Excuse me, can you repeat that?”

“Well, I was just telling how sad I was that Charles doesn’t come home as often this season. Though I understand he’s coming out to see you on set, distance can be so hard even for–”

“He’s not coming out to see me, Pascale.” You voice is softer, and appears more broken than you would want it to be, but your words convey the message enough. It takes you a couple of moments to organise your thoughts, and Arthur calling out your name, to get you back into the moment. “There’s something I need to talk with the both of you, something I’ve already talked with Lorenzo, but I thought it would be better for you to hear it from me.”

“Okay?” Arthur mumbles, then gives you a supportive smile, “You can tell us anything. Though don’t tell me I’m about to be an uncle because I don’t think my ego can take it at the–”

You attempt to swallow the lump in your throat as you direct your words to the woman sitting across from you. “I’m divorcing your son, and I thought you should hear it from me and not him.”

It takes a few minutes for both Pascale and Arthur to say something, and it concerns you that you somehow managed to give your mother in law a brain aneurism, but eventually, she manages to get out, “What? How? Why? Are you okay?”

“I’m… fine.” You reply, albeit it comes off calculated. “I found a couple of weeks ago that he was cheating on me, I’ve came back to give him the papers myself.”

“He what?” Arthur exclaims, then realises the level of his voice, and lowers it down as he asks, “Are you sure this is not a misunderstanding? The guy has been in love with you for over a decade, he wouldn’t do this.” With a resigning sigh, you find what you’re looking for in your phone and hand it over to Arthur. Who then, upon seeing what you have pulled up, immediately hands it back to you and turns to his mother, “Trust me you don’t want to see it.”

“I’ve came to tell you the news, and well, to apologise.” You turn to face Pascale again.

“Apologise?” She repeats, “Why on earth would you apologise to me when my son cheated on you?”

“You’ve been nothing but kind to me ever since we’ve met, both of you.” You acknowledge Arthur with a look, and then focus your attention back on the woman, “Though I will make sure you don’t get caught in the crossfire in any way, I wanted to apologise for what I’m about to put your son through.”

You honestly don’t know how you manage to act as if everything has been going fine in your life during race day. Given the fact that your husband doesn’t expect you to be at his race due to your rigorous filming schedule, and his family members being willing to hide your existence from him, you have no obstacles in your way to carry out the rest of your plan in motion. Which is exactly why you’re sat in the dark, waiting for your husband to walk through the doors of your apartment overlooking the city. With you seemingly being absent for the weekend, he has no reason to not believe that he is coming to an empty house.

So, imagine his surprise when he enters his home; with his girlfriend in his arm, no less, and sees his wife sitting on the couch with her legs crossed and a drink in her hand. The look on his face is priceless, and despite all the pain and frustration you’re feeling, it manages to bring you some semblance of joy, knowing that it’s going to hurt him just as much as it hurt you.

“Ma chérie,” Charles stammers, eye wide as he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights, “I – I didn’t know y–you were coming back this weekend.”

“Well obviously,” you scoff, taking a generous sip from the drink in the glass tumbler in your hand, “otherwise you wouldn’t bring your little girlfriend into my house to fuck her.” You hear a gasp from the scaredy brunette wedging herself closer to your husband’s side, and for the first time you take a good look at her – young, much younger than you, tall, leggy; all the telltale signs that she is exactly your husband’s type. Tilting your head to the side, you rest the glass on the arm of the armchair you’re sitting in, “If you could leave now, I would greatly appreciate it.”

You hear Charles whisper something in her ear, probably telling her to leave and that he’ll contact her tomorrow, and watch as she gives him a scowl, screeching, “You’re just going to let her throw me out?”

“Well, considering the fact that this is my house, yes.” You give her a look of pity, watching her face light up with anger.

“Listen to me, you bitch–” She starts, but your husband quickly cuts her off.

“Mon cœur!” He exclaims, “S'il te plaît!”

“Yes, listen to him, like a good little girl,” you egg her on, a smirk widening on your lips as you start swinging the leg resting on your lower one, choosing to focus on your nails instead of your husband trying to soothe his lover.

You hear her scoff, take a few steps as her heels click on the marble floor of the entrance, “I wouldn’t be so calm if I were you, I’m not someone you want to be on bad terms with, considering the fact that he’s going to leave you for me!”

“Oh, honey,” you coo, focusing your attention back on her and seeing the look of concern in your husband’s face through the corner of your eye, “and when did he tell you that, like a year ago? Two? Three?” A realisation dawns on her face as the smug expression starts to fade. “Don’t worry, though, you can have him when I’m done with him.” Pushing yourself off the armchair, you down the rest of the drink in the glass before slamming it down onto the glass coffee table. “And not only do I not care if you think I'm a bitch, but I hugely prefer it. Now get the fuck out of my house before I call security and get your ass thrown out.”

You watch as she looks at Charles with indignation, lets out another screeching sound and slams the door behind her as she stomps out of your apartment. Only then you turn your gaze back to your husband, who has the guts to look at you with a worried look on his face. “How long have you known?” Is the first thing he asks you, taking a few steps closer.

“A couple of weeks, a month, maybe?” You answer him, leaving your place to get to the small bar in the corner of your living room to get another refill of your drink. “There’s a video of the two, it somehow got into my hands, and it has very graphic details of the two of you having sex.” Popping a lemon into your cup, you make your way back to the armchair and sit down, “Are you stupid enough to cheat on me and make a fucking sex tape, Charles?”

“I-I didn’t mean to–” He tries to plead, but you cut him off with a shake of your head.

“You didn’t mean to what?” You ask him; your voice soothing, almost understanding, and it does the job of fooling him. “Cheat on me? Fuck another woman in my bed? Break the vows you’ve made?”

“Ma chérie,” he whispers, “please.”

“No.” Your voice is colder all of a sudden. “Tell me how long this has been going on for. Was I right? How many years?”

“It started five years ago,” his voice is soft, somber and he tries to appear as genuine as he can in the situation, you suppose, “but I knew her, from before...”

“Before what?” You’re seething now, the complete opposite of his calmness, “Did you fucking cheat me when we were dating, Charles?”

“Ma chérie,” he gives you another pleading look, “please, I can change. I’ll go to therapy.”

Now that, manages to get a bark of laughter from you. It’s ripped from the back of your throat, making you throw your head back as you lose yourself in the laughter to the point that there are tears in your eyes when you finally manage to calm yourself down. Putting the glass down on the coffee table once again, you wipe them off, mindful of your mascara, as you shift your attention back onto your husband. “Are fucking kidding me right now?” He gives you a concerned look, hands on his hips as he opens his mouth to answer you, but you quickly shut him down again. “You were bringing her into my house to fuck her, I caught you, I have your fucking sex tape – which is going to be streamlined for the world to see within twenty-four hours, do you honestly think I would go back to you?”

“Wait, what?” He exclaims, looking at you with wide eyes and a shocked expression. “What do you mean they are going to streamline it, why didn’t you go to the lawyers?

“I did go to the lawyers,” you shrug, innocently, “my lawyers,” you point out. “Why would I cover up your mistakes after everything you’ve done?”

“Because I’m your fucking husband!” He barks, his arms widening to his sides as he finally loses his mask and his composure.

His little tantrum only makes you let out another laugh, “Now, you’re my husband? Not when you’re cheating on me when I’m away shooting, but when you need me to clean up after your mistakes?”

“How did you even get the video?” He asks, eyes narrowing down, “Who- who– who?”

“Who? Who? Hoo? What are you, a fucking owl?” You exclaim, this time raising your voice. “You’re honestly more concerned about where I got it and not about the fact that the entire world is about to see you fucking someone other than your wife?”

“What are we doing to do?” He asks, “Fuck, I have a race tomorrow.”

“We’re not going to do anything.” You shrug, leaning forward to grab the glass and take another sip, “Or scratch that, we’re actually going to do something.” You stand up from the armchair, walk towards the table and hand him the file. “Congratulations, we’re getting a divorce.”

“That is not happening.” He scoffs, not even bothering to look at the papers.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to bargain with me, Charles.” You seethe, “You’re going to sign the damn papers, and you’re also going to sign away your rights to the baby.”

“What the–?” He looks at you in disbelief, “You’re pregnant?”

“Congratulations, it’s a boy.” You bite out, “Like you wanted.”

“You’ve been drinking the entire night.” He points to the glass, “Do you expect me to believe you’re pregnant?”

Offering him a sweet smile you hand him the glass, tipping it towards him, “It’s soda water, would you like a sip?”

“Don’t make me do this,” he pleads, “give me another chance.”

“I would’ve, if you were honest with me from the start.” You resign, a sincere look in your eyes. “I’ll give you a choice: us, or her.”

He rears back with the offer, looking at you in disbelief. “What?”

“You either choose me and the baby or you choose to be with her, and in that case, I will never let you near my baby, Charles.” You shake your head, wrapping your arms around your stomach protectively.

For a second, his eyes linger around your stomach. But you know his choice when he meets your eyes again.

“What have we done to each other?” He whispers, and you can barely see the tears in his eyes.

“We didn’t do anything, Charles. I gave up everything for you, but you just took me for granted.” Walking back to the dining table, you grab your coat and bag, and when you come face to face with him again, your voice is soft despite all the anger you still feel towards him. “You, Charles Leclerc, are truly the smallest man who ever lived.”

The hotel lobby is calm and empty as you sit at the bar, and it’s surprising when you consider that fact that it is the weekend of the Monaco Grand Prix, meaning that there must be hundreds and thousands of motorsports fans visiting. Not that you’re complaining about the silence, of course. After the night you’ve had, silence and calmness are all you could ask for.

“I’ll get a whiskey, please, whatever top shelf stuff you’ve got.” A voice cuts through the moment you are having, and you instantly recognise the distinct accent of the stranger sitting next to you. “Thought you were in the States, finishing off filming.” This time, the comment is directed to you, and you roll your eyes as you push the empty glass towards the bartender on duty.

With a sigh, you turn to the man on your right, “What do you want, Carlos?” Your voice conveys your lack of energy, and Carlos is not dumb enough not to notice the dark circles under your eyes beneath your makeup.

“I came to check on you.” Is his answer. Simple, curt and to the point. You’d certainly appreciate it more if you had the patience for his antics.

“Well, you did, have a good night.” Slamming down a hundred-Euro bill onto the counter, you make a move to get up from your place, but a gentle hand on your wrist stops you. “Let me go.”

Though there is no venom to your voice, Carlos knows that it is not the time, nor the place, to test your patience. “I’m sorry,” he starts and when you take a good look at him, you can tell that he’s being sincere, “I really did want to check up on you, and considering the fact that you have a perfectly good penthouse but instead in a hotel, I think I was right to do so.”

Crossing your arms across your chest as you get back onto the barstool with a huff, you glare at him lightheartedly, “I didn’t want to stay in the same house as him,” raising your eyebrows, you continue with a lower voice, “thanks to [email protected], but I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.” The way his cheeks redden under the dim lights of the lobby bar would make you chuckle under normal circumstances, but you push the thought aside, “Honestly, what were you thinking? You’re lucky it was me who realised it was you, if it was my agent or publicist, we’d have another scandal to deal with.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he brushes you off with a swat of his hand, “I’m sorry I put you into that position.”

“Don’t be,” you mumble, tilting your head to the side, “I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t sent me the video. Just tell me why you did it.”

“What?” He turns you with a confused look on his face.

“Why, Carlos?” You ask, voice encouraging yet soft, “Why did you send it? Why now?”

He keeps quiet for a while, not answering your questions but not taking his gaze off you either. Eventually, he exhales a deep sigh as he gives you a sheepish shrug, “I didn’t like the way he treated you. And I didn’t want to make you worry about it without concrete proof, so I guess everything just... worked out.”

“Huh,” you let out a small hum in agreement, “I guess you’re right.”

Expecting more than the words you chose to answer him with, he raises an eyebrow as he takes a big gulp of whiskey from his glass. “That’s it?”

“Well, what more is it there to say?” You ask, sheepishly shrugging. “We’re getting a divorce; he’s going to move out and I’m gonna make sure the entire world knows just why.”

Carlos flags down the bartender as he mumbles, “I feel like you need a stronger drink if we’re going to talk about your impending divorce, cariño.”

Taking a deep breath and exhaling an even deeper sigh, you shake your head. “I can’t.” Thank God Carlos is one of the people who is the proud owner of a braincell around you, because he catches your insinuation quickly.

With widened eyes, he quickly turns towards you, eyes softening as you offer him a sad smile. “Dios mío,” he murmurs, eyes running over you worriedly, “are you okay?”

“Well... no.” You let out an unexpected laugh at his expression, patting him on the shoulder lightheartedly. “I’ll be fine, Carlos, I’m a big girl. I can handle this.”

“I know you will,” he assures you, “but does Charles know?”

Now that manages to bring a grimace to your face. “He signed his parental rights away along with the divorce papers.” The look he gives you after hearing your words has you worried that his eyes are going to pop out of their sockets, but you try to calm him down as best as you can. “Carlos, it’s fine.”

“It’s most certainly not!” He exclaims, his voice echoing in the almost empty hotel lobby. “Is he out of his mind?”

You give him an awkward smile and another shrug of your shoulders. "I... feel like whatever I’m going to say is going to be wrong. So... yes?”

“Cariño,” he says, exasperated, “how are you so normal about this?”

“Lots of women raise their kids as single mothers while working, Carlos.” Your expression quickly taking the form of a frown, “I can handle this, I don’t need Charles or anyone else to hold my hand and tell me I’m doing such a good job.”

“I know you can do this alone, tonta,” he rolls his eyes as the endearment making you roll your eyes, “but you’re not going to be alone. Because I’m here.” There’s a certain finality to his words. And just as you’re about to object to his words, he quickly shuts you down. “I know you can do this on your own, but you don’t have to, okay? I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”

“What if I need waffles in the middle of the night?” You ask, your eyebrow raised in a skeptical way.

“I’ll adjust my pancake recipe.” His reply his immediate, and he shrugs lightly as he adds, “Pancakes are better, anyway.”

Rolling your eyes you continue, “What if I need someone to hold my hand in the delivery room? It can get quite gruesome, you know?”

He provides you with another nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “I’ve never really been affected by it.”

“Okay, this is ridiculous, Carlos!” You exclaim, pushing yourself off your seat as you turn your body to face him. “I don’t need you to bail me out, I don’t need your help!”

“I know you don’t,” he nods.

“I am capable of doing this on my own!” You shriek, and the fact that your face is starting to get progressively redder worries Carlos.

“I know you are, but–” he tries to reason.

“No buts! I’m going to be a good mother, okay?” You point an accusatory finger towards him. “I’m going to choose him!”

The way your voice breaks at the end of your sentence has Carlos instinctively pull you into his arms, which is not that hard given the fact that you are almost the same height as him as you stand in front of the bar stool he’s sitting on, and he doesn’t say a word as you sob into his chest – letting out all the emotion you’ve bottled up over the past few weeks, no less. He doesn’t you offer you empty promises or tries to soothe you with cliché phrases. Instead, he stands still, holding you between his arms as you sob continuously into his chest. Giving the bar tender an awkward smile over your shoulder, he hands him his card to close out your tabs.

He only starts talking again once you’ve pulled away and trying to wipe the remnants of your tears from under your eyes. “Do you feel better now?” He asks, handing you a napkin.

“Yeah,” you mumble, sniffing as you play with the corners of the napkin. Then, you flip your eyes toward his, and fix him with a glare. “You are not becoming my kid’s stepdad.”

“Of course not, cariño,” he assures you, “I’ll be the dad that stepped up instead.”

You let out a teary chuckle as you slap him lightly on his chest. “I’m serious, Carlos.”

“So am I.” He replies softly, and you can see the genuine look on his face. “You’re not alone anymore, I’m choosing you.” Tentatively, he presses his hand softly against your stomach as he maintains your gaze. “Both of you.”

And though the last thing you want is a promise, this one seems like a real one. So, you let yourself believe that he might just keep it up.

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reidmania · 3 months ago

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azure hypophrenia | s.reid

summary; you are disappointed when what you assumed was seasonal depression doesn't go away when the days get longer, and the sun gets warmer, spencer is the first to remind you to give it time.

warnings; fem reader, isolation, mentions being summer, seasonal depression, reader jumps to conclusions, established relationships, angst, and fluff, hurt x comfort, reader is an avoidant girly, she is confused why she doesn't feel better, its sad, they go to the beach, mentions nudity but not sexual.

an; this is NOT self indulgent because i went to the beach today, and i feel so happy now the weathers getting warmer but i do need spencer to remind me to put sunscreen on bc i am burnt as fuck. 2k words!!

Maybe it was the darkness of your living room, contrasting the warmth outside that worried Spencer. It could’ve been the way the air conditioning was on, and you were stripped of your clothes to fight off the warmth of the day yet you were buried under a thick blanket. It was most likely the fact he had come over and found you awake, yet maybe the quietest he had ever seen you, it had been two hours of him sitting next to you, stroking his fingers through your hair in pure silence.

The only words that had been spoken seemed like forever ago, when he first got there and his ‘Are you okay?’ came out concerned and calm. It was maybe the first voice you had heard in what felt like days, besides the distant construction workers yelling outside your window, but that was easy enough to block out. When you didn’t reply, Spencer didn’t ask again. He knew you, your lack of answer was an answer in itself, so instead, he mumbled a soft, ‘do you want to talk about it’ you shook your head. He accepted that, he accepted the silence.

Even if you did want to talk about it, there wasn’t a lot to say, you couldn’t articulate what was wrong to yourself, it didn’t make sense. You had been waiting all year for summer, because things were good in summer. The sun was brighter, the days were longer, beaches were full of families and friends and everyone was happier, so why weren’t you? You were able to accept that life was particularly more difficult to get through in the colder months, when you had an excuse to curl up and hide away from the world under the covers. Now, you just looked stupid. You felt stupid.

You had been waiting all year for the feeling to go away, and it just didn’t.

You were disappointed, Maybe. Maybe confused, and just sad.

Maybe it all felt worse because you were expecting to feel better, you were expecting the sun on your face to bring you a warmth that spread throughout your entire body, instead it only seemed to burn against coldness in your chest, yet never quite take it away.

What you assumed to be, what had always seemed to be seasonal depression, had turned into year round depression, and you were tired of it.

“Spencer” You cringed at the rasp in your voice from the lack of talking, you cringe at the way his hand stutters its movement in your hair as he shuffled to sit closer, you weren’t sure what he had been doing for hours, there was nothing playing on the tv, the room had been silent since before he was over, you didn’t invite him either, he just knew (probably from the fact you hadn’t replied to his calls) Maybe he had been mumbling facts your brain failed to comprehend, or listen to, maybe he just accepted the silence because it was what you wanted.

Your head tilts up to meet his eyes, they’re warm as they look at you, the colours swimming around them highlighted through the slight sunbeam that had managed to slip its way through the crack in your blinds. They held every ounce of warmth you ached to feel. He didn’t say anything as his hand continued brushing through your hair, away from your forehead. If he didn’t know better he would’ve encouraged you to take the blanket off because you were sweating.

“I want to watch the sunset.” You mumbled, quietly. You didn’t know if it was because you figured maybe something so beautiful might help contrast the ugliness you felt, not physically, in your soul. You needed a reminder that the world wasn’t as ugly as your mind made it out to be. You would’ve taken a liking to seeing a flower field, a night sky full of stars, a walk full of greenery, anything really, but you knew sunset was approaching.

His hand trailed from your hand to your jaw, finger brushing softly against your cheek as his eyes searched yours, maybe looking for any indication of what was wrong, if he found it, he didn’t say anything about it. “We can go to the beach.” He offered, his voice was gentle, careful. You figured he wanted to get you out of the room you had cooped yourself up in for god knows how long, and he knew you loved the beach. Any other time, any other state of mind, you would jump at the opportunity.

Spencer hated the beach, he thought it was one of the worst places to spend a day. They were too busy, too noisy, kids screamed, sand got everywhere, the salt water ruined his hair. You knew all of this, you also knew he knew, you loved the beach.

You shook your head, “I don’t want to swim.” You mumbled. That seemed like effort you didn’t have.

He hummed, nodding softly as his fingers brushed over your cheek again, his head leant down to place his lips against your hair, maybe if you were any one else he would’ve cringed doing so because of the fact your hair was laced with sweat you couldn’t acknowledge. “You don’t have to swim. We don’t have to go near the water. Just think it’ll be pretty down there.” He spoke, voice barely above a whisper as he pulled away from your hair.

You thought it over, “Okay.” You whispered.

It took another ten minutes for you to get out of bed, Spencer didn’t mind, he waited, finding you clothes. Shorts and a tank top, because your skin was boiling hot, and the sun outside would make it no different. You were already sweating, he knew you would’ve preferred to stay curled up in a big hoodie, or in just your underwear, but he wasn’t going to risk you getting heat stroke just because your mind was too busy focusing on your mental state to adjust to how you physically felt It was silent after your agreement, until he asked you to put sunscreen on.

‘The sun is setting’ you mumbled in an argument. He shook his head before he found it in your bathroom draw. He spent the next few minutes rubbing it over your arms and shoulders as he mumbled about how the UV was still high, and you would burn and be in pain, that the sunsetting didn’t mean it wasn’t still hot enough for you to get sunburnt. You didn’t argue further purely because it was useless.

The beach was a twenty two minute drive. He let you connect to bluetooth in his car. Everything you played was quiet, mostly instrumental versions of your favourite songs because you didn’t want to hear talking. Your gaze stayed fixated out the window, Spencer’s hand stayed interlocked with yours as he drove, resting against your thigh.

By the time you got to the beach, the sun was already filled with different hues of golden colours. The yellow was distant in the sky as the orange and pinks took over, lining the horizon, sinking their way back into the depths of space, each colour more rich and beautiful than the last, the clouds were a pretty pink colour, the last glimmer off the azure sea resembled the look of a thousand little diamonds dancing along blue silk, highlighted by the remaining sunbeams.

Your mind felt quieter, your soul a little more peaceful.

You followed Spencer as he guided you through your interlocked hands down the white sand, your eyes trailed over every textured seashell hidden in the soft grains, this was easier to focus on than the feeling in your stomach. He guided you along the pier silently, your eyes moving from sea shells to the sand grains hidden through the cracks of the timber planks.

“Do you want to sit, Angel?” He asked gently as his hand moved from yours to your back, a silent ache of reassurance that he was there. You answered silently by moving to sit along the edge of the wooden pier, feet dangling over the edge as your hands settled in your lap and your gaze moved back to the pretty picture painted by the sky. Spencer follows your movements, sitting beside you.

You let the silence between you give way to the calming crashing of the waves against the shoreline. The reflection of the colours in the sky, over the water. Everything was so beautiful, the setting against your face less harsh then your mind had made it out to be in memory.

“I think I’m broken” You whispered, head dropping to look down at your feet dangling, moreso watching the water underneath, the ripples the water made as it danced around, as if putting on a show. Spencer’s head turned to face you, and you didn’t need to look at him to know his eyebrows were knitted in something close to empathy, and concern. More so in understanding. His hand reached out to take yours away from your lap, holding them gently despite the sweat that had built up over your palms.

He brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles before running his thumb over them, “Because you feel sad, or sad because you’re scared of feeling sad?” He mumbled out the question gently. He knew how you got, making things bigger in your head before you could help it, jumping to conclusions and making assumptions, you shut down. It's what you knew.

You sighed as you shrugged, other hands picking at the hemming of your shorts, feet kicking slightly over the edge. “I don’t feel sad” You mumbled, frowning slightly. Sad wasn’t the right word to describe what was going on with you. There wasn’t a right word no matter how hard you searched for one, no matter how much you searched for an explanation, you couldn’t find one. “I- I just don’t feel happy. I feel wrong.”

He hummed in understanding as he shifted to reposition a little bit so he was more turned to face you. “You’re isolating, angel, that's what you were doing when I got there, isolating. You know that doesn’t help.” He was right, and you did know that the fact you were hiding away from anything that could help you feel better wouldn’t help you feel better, and hiding away from the feeling didn’t make it go away.

He sighed at your lack of response. “Baby, it's been two days of warmer weather, and life doesn’t just get easier straight away. You can’t give up, this is one of those things you need to allow to take time” He mumbled, his hand squeezed yours.

You looked up at him, a small frown on your lips but not one of sadness, but because you knew he was right. You put too much pressure on summer to make you feel better and shut down when it didn’t happen straight away.

“Can we stay here till it’s dark?” You asked. That was enough of an acceptance for him. He smiled softly as he leant over to kiss your forehead, arm moving to wrap around your waist to tug you closer to him, the squeal that left your lips when you were sure you were about to slip off the edge only made his smile widen, because it was followed by a giggle when his arm tightened around your waist.

“We could stay here forever,” He offered.

“Eh, I think I’d need to reapply sunscreen.” You smiled as you looked up at him. Everything was a bit lighter.

His eyebrows furrowed, “Didn’t you bring extra sunscreen, I told you to grab it before we left”

“Oh I wasn’t listening”

“Well, now we will have to go home at some point!"

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mushyblushyredhead · 3 months ago

Note

I noticed you're doing fics for Helluva Boss, so I wanted to request a fic about a tickle fight between Blitzø and Fizzarolli where Blitzø wants to make things like it was when they were teenagers and starts acting like a little shit to provoke Fizzarolli, and a tickle fights ensues, only to be broken up by Stolas and Asmodeus where they both end chasing their own imp boyfriends.

TickleTober 2024 🎃

Day 2: Chase

Switches!Blitzø & Fizzarolli

Word Count: 1.7k

⚠️ Warning for some language & mild spoilers!

And also kinda AU ending here where everything’s good and nobody’s hearts get broken (iykyk) 🥲

“Hey, thanks for inviting me out tonight,” Fizzarolli smiled at his now present friend, Blitzø.

“Oh, uh, sure thing,” Blitz awkwardly replied. “Anything to get our minds off of…y’know what happened the other day.” It had only been one day since Blitz and Fizz had been captured by the bounty hunter, Striker, and Blitz insisted that he and Fizz needed a day to hangout and catch up now that they seemed to be on good terms.

Although they both got some closure after so long while nearly escaping with their lives, Blitz still felt like it wasn’t enough. After all that, they were just going to part ways and walked off like nothing happened? No, Blitz already lost his best friend so long ago. He didn’t want it to happen again. They deserved to at least hang out and rekindle their friendship once more.

And that’s where they were at; Blitz invited Fizzarolli out to dinner, and they decided to rendezvous back to Fizz’s place to spend the rest of the evening there.

Except, Blitz was starting to feel guilty. And awkward. He was feeling guilty about being awkward for this hangout. Here he was with his best friend that he wished to rekindle with after so many years, and now he didn’t know what to say or do. What was he even supposed to say after all these years? He didn’t want to say the wrong thing, or worse, say something that would set Fizz off and remind him exactly why their friendship ended in the first place.

Blitz’s overthinking was clouding his hearing, he wasn’t aware that Fizzarolli was speaking to him. He snapped out of his thoughts when he felt something nudge his shoulder. “Huh? What?”

“I said,” Fizz repeated. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve been zoning out this whole time.”

“Oh, heh. No, don’t worry about it. Guess I just drank a little too much tonight,” Blitz lied, forcing a smile.

Fizz could tell Blitz was lying, but he didn’t want to push it. “Oh, okay then.”

Uh-oh. Now it was silent again. Awkward silence.

C’mon, c’mon! Say something! Blitz racked his brain for something to say. Shit! He felt he was never good at this whole sentimental stuff; he was only good at ruining things. There had to be something he could say or do to save their friendship even more. But what? Why was talking to his best friend so hard to do?

He peeked over and saw Fizz fiddling with his prosthetic animatronic arms. Blitz quickly turned his head away as guilt washed over him again. He was never going to forgive himself for causing…that to Fizzarolli. Was that the reason why he couldn’t talk to him anymore? Because he still carried that heavy guilt from all those years ago?

Whatever the reason, Blitz didn’t want it to ruin his friendship any longer. He cleared his throat, getting Fizz’s attention. “So…heh…those robot arms of yours must make you pretty damn good with Oz in bed, huh?”

Fizz scowled, but it quickly melted into a visible smile. “Fuhuhuck Blitz, can you not bring any weird jokes into a normal conversation?”

“Hey, I used to be a crappy clown. It’s my job to crack weird jokes all the time.” Blitz grinned, nudging his friend in the side. “Besides, you seem to have no problem with it since you laughed.”

Fizz yelped, arching away from where Blitz’s elbow hit him. “A-AAH! Watch it with your pointy elbows!”

Blitz cocked his head to the side. He had never heard Fizzarolli make a sound like that before. It took him a solid few seconds before he figured it out. No fucking way…even after all these years! A wicked slow grin spread across his face. He wasn’t feeling guilty or hesitant anymore. He knew exactly how he was going to bond with his friend again. The way he always did when they were teenagers.

“Hey Fiiiiiizz~!” Blitz sing-songed. “You always complain about my jokes being so shitty yet you laugh at every single one!”

“I do not!” Fizz protested.

Perfect. “Do too, watch!” Remember that legless balloon horse I always made as a kid? Well, how did he lose his legs in the first place?” Blitz paused for dramatic effect to deliver his punchline while he sneakily slid his tail behind Fizz. “…Too much horseplay!”

As soon as he said the punchline, Blitz jabbed and wriggled his tail end against Fizz’s side, causing him to emit that same high-pitched yelp.

“Ha! See? You still laugh at my jokes!”

“I wahahasn’t laughing, idiot!” Fizz shot back. He cursed himself for letting a giggle slip out. “Ihihit’s your fucking tahahail!”

Blitz hummed. “Hmm, I guess you’re right. I’ve always been a pain in your side, huh?” Blitz quickly tased Fizz’s side to playfully emphasize his point.

This time, Fizz squeaked and flinched away from the touch. “Blihihihitz!” He couldn’t hold back his giggles now. “S-Stohohop doing thahahat!”

Blitz sighed, pretending to be annoyed, but he didn’t let up and continued to poke Fizz’s side repeatedly. “Look, Fizzarolli, I’m trying to lighten the mood here, crack some jokes, and build our friendship back, and all you wanna do is laugh in my face like whatever I say is the most ridiculous thing!”

“You ahahahare ridiculous, Blihihihitzo!”

Normally, Blitz hated whenever anyone called him by his previous name. But he made an exception for this case; he knew Fizz wasn’t trying to insult him for real, but he still made a dramatic show by pretending to be offended.

“Oh, now you’ve gone too far, Raviolli! You know the ‘o’ is silent in my name now!” Before he could let Fizz answer back, Blitz attacked him for real. He leapt on top of Fizz, and dug his claws against wherever he could reach.

Fizz emitted a funny screech as he was glomped, immediately bursting into loud cackles. “BLIHIHIHITZ! NohohohAAAAA! STAHAHAHAhahap!!”

Blitz pulled his hands back. “Alright, you whiner. I’ll stop.” Fizz breathed a sigh of relief. But he immediately burst out laughing again as Blitz’s wiggling claws went back to his torso.

“WHAAAAHAHAT THE FUHUHUCK, BLIHIHIHIHITZ!!?”

Blitz grinned as wickedly as the Radio Demon. “What? You didn’t say for how long you wanted me to stop!”

“F-FUHUHAHAHACK YOUHOOHOOHOO, YOU CLAHAHAHAHOWN!!”

“Alright, smart ass,” Blitz chuckled evilly. “You wanna make this worse for yourself by calling me names? Because you clearly still have a lot of fight in ya if you can keep sassing me. Luckily…” he cracked his knuckles for dramatic effect. “I know just how to squeeze that sass out of you.”

“Not unless I squeeze it out of you, first!” Fizz shot back, surprising Blitz by throwing him off with his robotic legs. Now, it was Fizz’s turn to snicker like a villain. “You were right, Blitz, these robotic arms of mine do have their advantages for a lot of things!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, uhhh…truce?”

Elsewhere, Asmodeous and Stolas were chatting over tea together. They were relieved that their loved ones were not only safe back home, but there were also finally getting along. It was nice to see the former duo finally rekindling their friendship.

It wasn’t until they started to hear distant screams of protest that made their protective boyfriend instincts kick in, and rush to the scene. When they saw what was happening, there were relived there was no real danger but instead were silently gushing at the scene; Blitz and Fizzarolli engaged in an all-out tickle fight. The two demons were rolling around on the floor, tickling each other silly, and screaming for the other to give up.

“GIHIHIHIVE UHUHUP, BLITZ!!”

“Y-YOU FIHIHIHIHIRST, YOU ROBOHOHOHOT FREAK!!”

“NAAAAHEEHEEHEE—NEVER!!”

Ozzie and Stolas both rolled their eyes fondly at each other. As adorable as the sight was, they knew how stubborn their boyfriends could be. If they didn’t intervene soon, this tickle fight could last for hours.

Luckily, they knew just how to intervene.

Fizz and Blitz halted their tickle attacks when they heard Stolas’ voice. “Oh, Fizzarolli, if you want Blitzy to give in, you’ll have to go for his underarms and tummy!”

Blitz paled and then blushed. “Shut your damn beak, Stolas! You stay out of this!”

Fizz giggled like a gremlin. “HA! Your furry boyfriend called you out!” He immediately stopped laughing when he heard Ozzie say, “And Blitz, if you want Fizzy here to give up, you have to go for his tummy! And especially under his chin; it makes him let out the cutest little squeaks and chirps!”

Now it was Fizzarolli’s turn to blush madly. He stammered, then whined. “Ozzie! Whyyyyy?! Blitz doesn’t need to know that!”

“But now I do! Ohhh this changes everything! Finally, now I can get you back after all these years!”

“Not if I get you first!” Fizz growled, stretching his robotic limbs.

Stolas and Ozzie exchanged looks. They both smirked, silently agreeing.

“Shall we teach them a lesson?” Ozzie grinned.

Stolas chuckled. “Love to. After you, Asmodeus.”

The smaller imps paused their attacks again as they were engulfed in their partners’ shadows. They slowly looked up and gulped, knowing those looks far too well with what it meant.

“Uhh Blitz?”

“Yeah, run.”

The two imps took off running, flustered beyond comprehension at their partners chasing them, knowing what was going to happen as soon as they were caught. And their boyfriends? They couldn’t help but tease and coo how they were going to get them just to fluster them even more. And it worked like a charm.

“Just so you know, this is all your fault!” Fizz exclaimed.

“Hey, it’s your fault, too!” Blitz shot back. “But quit worrying, Fizz. It’s not like our furry boyfriends can even catch up to us!”

The two immediately slammed into Stolas and Asmodeus, Stolas easily portaling them both.

“‘They’ll never even catch up to us’, huh?” Fizz sarcastically remarked.

Blitz stammered nervously. “Stolas, what the hell?! You can’t use your portals, you cheater!”

Stolas hummed. “Since when have you ever cared about fairness in these silly games, Blitzy?” Said imp blushed at that comment. “Now then, where were we, Asmodeus?”

“I believe we were just about to teach these two a lesson about thinking they could outrun us. We always catch up! And you know what happens when we do~!” Ozzie playfully reminded.

Both demons each grabbed and cradled their imp boyfriends in their arms, holding them securely as they squirmed in anticipation. The night was no longer silent as Stolas and Ozzie tickled their boyfriends silly, enjoying the sweet sounds of their screeches and laughter.

THE END <3

Hope you love this, anon! 🫶🏻

#mushy writes stuff #tickle fic #sfw tickle fic #helluva boss tickle #tickletober2024 #augtickletober2024 #tickletober #lee!blitzø #lee!fizzarolli #switch!blitzø #switch!fizzarolli #mushy answers #answered asks #sfw twords #sfw tickling community

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xxsabitoxx · 1 year ago

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Satoru's Discovery (Pale Blue)

Read Pale Blue Part 1 HERE

~This is just a fun little glimpse back into the lives of 1st-year students Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and Reader. This is told from Satoru's perspective but still written in 2nd person format.

Warnings: Underage smoking, everyone in this implied to be 15, aka they are in their first year at jujutsu tech so there is obviously no explicit content.

Drip divider is from the wonderful @benkeibear

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

October 2004

He’s not focusing on anything but you, glasses sliding down his nose just a bit as he observes you eat. You’re talking so animatedly to Shoko, chopsticks dangling hazardously between your fingers as you use your hands to talk. You’ve always been a bit more hyper, especially when you’re eating a good meal. Satoru has only known you since April but he’s got some of your mannerisms down pat. Beside you, Suguru has his fist pressed to his cheek, elbow on the table and food forgotten as he watches you intently. There is a gentle smile on his face, perhaps this was the first time Satoru had noticed that level of focus in Suguru when it came to you.

Though, Shoko would later claim it’s been obvious from the start.

“You claim to have good eyes, yet you seem to miss the most obvious things, Gojo.”

“And then… oh, Gojo? You okay?” he hadn’t realized it, but his glasses had slipped off of his face all together and clattered to the table amidst his daydream. Now, he could feel warmth flooding his face as he scrambled to grab them, trying to ignore three sets of eyes boring into him. “Y-yeah I’m fine I was just so engulfed in your story that I..uh… I…” he couldn’t find the words to save himself, mildly thankful when you and Shoko had begun to laugh. Quickly, Satoru’s eyes had shot up to meet Suguru’s, the other man staring at him with a quirked brow. To say the two boys had clicked right away would be a false statement. It wasn’t until after their first mission that the two became close. At first, Suguru couldn’t even stand him.

Now, they were stuck together like glue, where one went, so did the other. Maybe that’s why it was so jarring to see Suguru looking at him like that, he hadn’t looked at him like that since their first mission together. It was a look of… “Jealousy? Why would I be jealous?” It had been three days since that incident at dinner and now the two were sitting on a park bench while you and Shoko were in the convenience store. Satoru shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “You were just looking at me funny dude, it was weird.” Satoru couldn’t stand the awkwardness, eyes averting to the opposite direction despite his sunglasses covering his eyes.

“Well, if I was looking at you funny, I apologize.” Suguru shrugged it all off, head turning the moment you and Shoko emerged from the small store. “Geto, Gojo!” You called, bouncing happily towards them with a lollipop pressed into your cheek. “These are for you!” You smiled as you handed Satoru a matching lollipop and Suguru a bag of chips. “I know you don’t like sweet things, so I figured you might like these.” Behind you, Shoko was lighting up a cigarette. “Thank you!” Satoru chimed happily, plucking the blue pop from your hand and unwrapping it excitedly. “Thanks.” Suguru responded as well, sharing a smile with you before tilting his head and asking Shoko for a cigarette from her stash. That feeling was creeping up Satoru’s spine again, the feeling that he was missing something but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

He watched from his spot on the bench, observing the way you laughed as Shoko begrudgingly handed Suguru one of her cigs and a lighter. He pressed the lollipop to his tongue, smiling along when it felt right but he truly wasn’t paying attention. Instead, Satoru had focused on the way you and Suguru interacted with each other. He observed a little more diligently than before, picking up on the small interactions and quick glances, the smiles you both shared when you must have figured neither him or Shoko were looking. “You coming?” He jumped a bit, noticing Suguru was standing and looking at him with an amused smirk. “Hu-oh uh yeah…” Satoru stammered, cheeks burning again as he was caught mid-daydream.

“You must be staying up late, Gojo. You’ve been pretty spaced out the last few days.” He fell into step beside you, choking out a laugh as he tried to play things off. “Yeah, I’ve been pretty invested in some of my studies.” which also wasn’t technically a lie. He had been reading and researching various physics formulas and equations and all the boring but technical stuff that would help him better understand his curse technique. “I always forget you’re actually pretty studious.” You chuckle, hand reaching out to push him playfully. Usually Satoru was on guard, not stumbling when you pushed him. Today, however, he found himself falling into Suguru’s side.

“Woah there, go easy on him.”

You had a grin on your face as you spoke, head turning upwards a bit to make eye contact with Suguru. The boy was smiling back at you, eyes shining as he spoke. “Shall we tell them? It’s really not a huge deal.” He laughed a bit as you slapped his shoulder. “Tell us what?” Shoko chimed, oblivious to the way Satoru’s world was starting to crack around him. “Well, Suguru and I…” and for a moment Satoru couldn’t hear anything other than the ringing in his ears. “No way! I fucking knew it!” Shoko had laughed, pulling her third cigarette from her lips to point at you. “You’re both terrible liars… I figured you two have been dating for like two months now.”

Satoru’s hearing returned to him just in time to hear that, his stomach twisting in knots as his worst fears were met. You and Suguru had been dating for months now. That was the very answer he couldn’t grasp, only because it was the answer he didn’t want. “Satoru, you okay?” Your brows had knitted together in concern, once again he was met with three sets of eyes boring into his own. “I-uh-yeah I’m fine just… just surprised is all.” He recovered but it wasn’t as smooth as he wanted it to be, and once again he was met with an odd look from Suguru.

But it passed, the brown eyes of his best friend had returned to you, looking at you like you were his entire universe. It made his stomach tighten even more, mouth so dry he was certain he would choke if he tried to speak again. “I’ll spare you all the mushy details, but yeah. We’ve been dating for what feels like forever now.” You laughed a bit, deciding it was best to just move on from Satoru’s clear shellshock in order to not make things awkward for him. Just like always, you could read the white-haired sorcerer better than he could read himself sometimes.

Somewhere, deep down, you knew you were witnessing his heart breaking.

But for his sake, you would try and ignore it.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #gojo satoru #geto suguru #shoko ieiri #geto x reader #suguru x reader #gojo angst #geto angst #jjk imagines #jjk headcanons #gojo headcanons #gojo imagine #geto imagines

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supernotnatural2005 · 13 days ago

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The Meet Cute - Chapter Two

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Summary: After a drunken mistake comes a surprising turn of events the morning after. With a helpful push from your best friend, will you finally stop second guessing yourself for once? Will you finally take the risk with your heart?

Word Count: 2.7K

AN: Hey guys! It's finally here, part 2 of The Meet Cute. I'm sorry it's taken me so long, I really wanted to make a return to this story worth it. (I hope I've done so lol) and hopefully you'll be pleased to know, there will be more to this story, possibly another chapter or 2 👀

Warnings: FLUFF! Swearing, some self-doubt, not much else.

Tagging: @zepskies , @kr804573 , @roseblue373

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the pounding in your head. It was as if a marching band had set up camp in your skull, playing the world’s worst rendition of a pop hit on repeat. The second thing you noticed was the light streaming through the curtains—way too bright for the morning after regrettable amounts of alcohol consumed the night before. You groaned, pulling the blanket over your head to escape the merciless sunlight.

Snippets of the previous night began to filter through the fog in your mind: drinking at the bar, Dean’s cocky smirk, Matty ranting about “all the hot ones being straight” after learning about Sam’s fiancé, and...dancing? You groaned again. You vaguely remembered Dean’s hands on your waist, his laughter mixing with yours as the two of you spun around on the dance floor.

You rubbed your temples and turned over, trying to piece it all together and froze. There was someone in bed with you.

Your heart stopped as you stared at the silhouette next to you under the blanket. Broad shoulders, messy hair, the faintest hint of stubble visible on the face buried in the pillow. Oh god. Oh no.

Your stomach churned as you tried to remember more. Did you and Dean—? No, surely not. You weren’t that drunk. Were you?

“Please don’t be Dean. Please don’t be Dean,” you whispered to yourself, panic mounting. Summoning all your courage, you reached out a shaky hand and poked the figure in the arm.

“Mmmf,” came the groggy response, followed by a voice that was far too familiar. “What are you doing?”

You ripped the blanket off the figure and came face to face with a very dishevelled, very sleepy Matty. Relief crashed over you like a tidal wave, and you collapsed back onto the mattress.

“Matty!” You yelled, half-laughing, half-screaming.

Your best friend popped his head out from under the covers, hair sticking up in about twelve directions. He squinted at you. “Why are you yelling? I’m hungover, too, you know.”

“Why are you in my bed?!”

“Because I’m a saint,” he said, rolling onto his back with a dramatic sigh. “You were freaking out about ‘doing something dumb,’ so I stayed. You’re welcome, by the way.”

You flopped back onto your pillow, relief giving way to irritation. “You couldn’t have stayed on the couch.”

“Do I look like a couch person to you?” He scoffed, giving you an offended look.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “What happened last night? And why does it feel like I’ve been run over by a truck?”

Matty propped himself up on his elbows, his grin way too smug for someone in his condition. “Well, let’s see. You had a very friendly dance marathon with Dean—who, by the way, was very into you—and then, when your legs gave out, he carried you back to your room like some kind of knight in shining armour.”

Your face was on fire by this point. “Please tell me that’s all.”

“That’s all I saw,” he said innocently. “But who knows what Dean was thinking about?”

You grabbed a pillow and hit him square in the face.

Matty laughed and ducked away before adding, “Oh, and by the way, we’re all getting lunch together.” He said nonchalantly and paused as he checked the time on his phone. “In about two hours.”

Your jaw dropped. “WHAT?!”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Matty said with a wink. “Dean was all for it, but I figured you’d try to hide from him out of sheer awkwardness. This is me, as your best friend, forcing you to take a chance for once.”

“I—Matty, why?!” You groaned, covering your face with your hands.

“Because you,” he said, poking your shoulder, “are a chronic avoider, and I, as your very wise and selfless friend, refuse to let you sabotage yourself. Dean’s hot and clearly into you. You’d be stupid not to at least try, even if it’s just some fun.”

Your stomach churned again—this time from nerves. “But he’s way out of league.” You tried to reason, and Matty rolled his eyes so hard you were surprised they didn’t fall out of his head.

“Bitch, please.” Matty sassed, making you raise a brow at him. “You’re gorgeous, you’re hilarious, and you planned a wedding that people are going to talk about for years. If Dean doesn’t see that, he’s blind. Now get up and get ready. Wear something that says, ‘I’m effortlessly perfect but also fun to be around.’”

You stared at him. “That’s not a thing.”

“It is,” Matty said with a grin. “And you’re about to pull it off. You’re welcome.”

As he strolled out of the room, you flopped back onto the bed, nerves tangling with excitement. Matty might be meddlesome, but he was also usually right. Maybe it was time to take a risk. After all, it’s not like you had to marry the guy. What was the worst that could happen?

It was nearing 12 o'clock by the time you made your way downstairs to the little restaurant at the other end of the venue. Your sister was still indisposed; she too had had a wild night, and you left a message for her to meet you when she was feeling “alive” so you could see her off before her honeymoon trip to the Maldives.

Lucky.

The walk to the restaurant was simultaneously the longest and shortest of your life. Apparently, Dean had gotten your number at some point last night when you received a text from him not long after you finally got out of bed, reconfirming these so-called ‘lunch plans’ Matty had made.

The latter man strolled beside you, looking far too pleased with himself, while you mentally picked apart every detail of your outfit. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at your closet, replaying Matty’s words: “Wear something that says, ‘I’m effortlessly perfect but also fun to be around.’” How could an outfit say all that?

You eventually landed on a soft sundress in a colour that complimented your skin tone, paired with sandals that were cute but practical. “Effortlessly perfect” turned out to be very effortful, and “fun to be around” was apparently a leather satchel bag with tassels.

“Are you sure this is okay?” You asked Matty for the seventh time as you tugged at the hem of your dress.

Matty gave you a once-over and smirked. “You look great. Very, ‘Oops, I woke up like this, but let’s drink mimosas and talk about art.’”

You groaned. “I hate you.”

“Not as much as you’ll hate yourself if you mess this up,” he shot back, opening the door to the restaurant for you with an exaggerated bow.

“Now, go be charming.”

Inside, Dean and Sam were already seated, looking annoyingly perfect. Sam had an air of quiet confidence as he sipped from a mug. Dean, on the other hand, was leaning back in his chair, a lazy grin spreading across his face when he saw you.

“Hey!” Dean called, standing to greet you both. “You look beautiful.”

The blush hit you before you could stop it.

“Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.” In fact, he looked amazing. Instead of the black suit you’d seen him in last night, he was clad in a dark maroon flannel that accentuated those broad shoulders you’d had the pleasure of hanging onto last night, and some dark-wash jeans that showed off his long and slightly bowed legs.

Dean stepped closer, his green eyes sparkling as he leaned down and kissed your cheek. You had to hide your surprise with a clearing of your throat and a polite smile. Beside you, Matty muttered, “Smooth,” under his breath, and you fought against jabbing your elbow into his side. Why was this a good idea again?

“Matty,” Sam greeted with a polite nod, clearly still wary after last night’s shenanigans.

“Sammy,” Matty said brightly, taking the seat across from him in the booth and leaning in with a conspiratorial grin. “Miss me?”

Sam shakes his head with a chuckle. “You’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Matty quipped, and you rolled your eyes at the two of them before sitting across from Dean, who looked entirely too amused by the dynamic. Before any more conversations could flow, a server came over with a fresh pot of coffee for your table, and you thanked her gratefully.

“So,” Dean said, resting his forearms on the table as he focused on you, “did you survive the hangover?”

“Barely,” you admitted with a laugh, stirring into your coffee your usual amount of sugar and creamer. “Thanks for, you know, last night. For carrying me to my room. I’m honestly mortified you had to even do that.” You chuckled, heavily embarrassed. Dean didn’t seem to mind though as he waved a dismissive hand.

“Don’t be. I had a great time.” He grinned wide and genuine, eyes shining with something unspoken.

“Well, I appreciate it either way.” You mumbled shyly. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach flip, and you looked down at your cup, fiddling with the rim nervously. Why is he even interested? Whispered the insecurities you fought to ignore. Made more difficult without the help of your good friend, Jameson.

“You okay?” Dean’s voice softened, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Still shaking off the whisky haze.”

Dean didn’t look convinced but didn’t press you.

“So, how did you two meet?” Sam asked curiously, and Matty piped up before you could, taking charge of the storytelling, as per usual.

“Well, it’s a tale for the ages.”He started rather dramatically, really putting his 3 months of drama school to use.

“Picture it: college orientation day. I’m walking across campus, radiating my usual charm, when suddenly—bam! Y/N crashes into me, spilling an entire tray of cafeteria tacos all over the both of us.”

Your cheeks burnt as Dean and Sam stifled laughter. “That is not how it happened!”

“Oh, it absolutely is,” Matty countered, grinning wickedly. “And then—because she felt so bad—she tried to help clean me up but slipped in some of the taco sauce, nearly taking us both out.”

“I didn’t slip,” you protested, laughing despite yourself. “And it was nachos, not tacos.”

“Details,” Matty said with a dismissive wave. “The point is, it was fate. She looked up at me, covered in salsa and regret, and I thought, ‘This girl is going to make my life infinitely more interesting.’”

Dean chuckled, and his gaze softened as he looked at you, as if he could relate, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“That’s a pretty solid start to a friendship.” Sam nodded through his amusement.

And you shrugged, biting back a grin. “I guess if someone’s willing to stick around after that kind of first impression, they’re worth keeping around.”

Matty placed a hand over his heart. “You hear that? She kept me. Truly, I’m blessed.”

Dean laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “I don’t know if I’m more impressed by the nacho incident or by the fact that you’ve put up with him this long.”

“Neither,” you teased, sipping your coffee. “The real mystery is why he’s put up with me.”

Dean shook his head, his eyes meeting yours. “I think I can see why.” You looked away shyly, but you were unable to fight your smile.

“How about either of you? Any stories, and by stories I mean humiliating tales, to share?” Matty began stirring his coffee, just like he was the conversation.

"Well... there is one that springs to mind.” Sam teases, and Dean groans, already bracing himself.

“Oh, come on. Do we really need to—”

“Oh, we do,” Sam and Matty interrupt simultaneously, making you giggle into your hand.

“How about accidentally signing up for a salsa dance class because someone thought it was a ‘salsa tasting’ event?” Sam informed with a jab of his thumb in Dean’s direction.

Matty’s eyes lit up as he nearly choked on his laughter. “Please tell me he actually went through with it.”

Sam nodded, his grin widening. “Oh, he did. The full two hours. By the end, the instructor gave him a ‘most improved’ sticker, which I think was more pity than praise.”

Dean shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “I stand by it. A little footwork never hurt anyone.” He shot you a quick look. “Those skills aided me just fine last night.” Again you had to look away at his implication with a shy bite to your bottom lip. Memories of Dean’s talented footwork and moves around the dance floor flashing in your mind.

“Alright,” Matty announced, “before we continue, what’s everyone ordering? Because I, for one, need to eat for a family of four to recover from this morning.”

The conversation shifted, and for the next few minutes, you all ordered your food, the playful banter continuing. Your nervousness started to fade. The tension in your chest eased with every laugh Dean pulled from you. He was funny, easygoing, and had a way of making everything feel like an adventure. Even when Sam joined in, adding his own dry humour to the mix, you felt more and more comfortable in their company.

Dean leaned in to ask you more questions about your life, and you’d told him how you’d found a niche for planning, event planning more specifically, and decided to make a career out of it. Dean seemed to hang onto every word, genuinely interested.

In turn you learnt more about his job as a mechanic and co-owner at his dad’s garage that specialised in classic cars, which you found to be incredibly impressive. And as you listened to him talk about his work, you noticed how his hands moved with confidence and ease, like he was describing something he was deeply passionate about.

You also learnt that both of them were fellow ‘Kansans.’ Whereas you resided in Topeka, Dean and Sam lived in Lawrence, and although it was only a town over, it explained why you hadn’t run into either of them beforehand.

As the conversation continued, you found yourself relaxing more and more. The nervous energy that had been gnawing at your insides started to dissolve.

By the time the food arrived, you were laughing freely, engaging with everyone at the table, and… finding yourself feeling comfortable with Dean. It didn’t hurt that, with each passing moment, the way he looked at you felt more intense. Like he was paying attention to you in a way that felt different from the others.

After everyone had finished eating, Matty took it upon himself to grab the check—naturally. He reached for it with a dramatic flourish, blocking Dean’s hand.

“Absolutely not,” Matty declared. “This is on me. Consider it an investment.” He aimed the last words at you with a wink, and you looked at him incredulously.

When you all stood up to leave, the others moved on ahead, but Dean lingered by your side. You felt his presence, warm and easygoing beside you, and you couldn’t quite suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

“So,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he slowed his pace to match yours, “any chance I can see you again sometime? Without the audience?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. The sudden weight of the question hung in the air between you, and you weren’t sure how to respond. Everything about this felt a little surreal—like a moment that could go either way. But then Matty’s words echoed in your mind: ‘Don’t sabotage yourself.’

You took a breath, steadied your nerves, and smiled, a little shy but hopeful. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

Dean’s grin widened, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this wasn’t as terrifying as you thought. Maybe it was time to take the risk, to stop second-guessing yourself, and let things unfold as they were meant to.

Dean stepped a little closer, his hand brushing yours as you walked side by side toward the door. You couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something worth the gamble.

AN: Okay, so how do we feel about the reunion between these two? And Matty's glorious input? 😂 He honestly is the best cheerleader! I hope you guys enjoyed this, let me know what you think and if you're excited for the proper date with Dean 👀

If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters let me know.

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year ago

Text

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER FOUR: CASTLES CRUMBLING

AND HERE I SIT ALONE, BEHIND WALLS OF REGRET. FALLING DOWN LIKE PROMISES I NEVER KEPT.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, mentions of RUMORS of workplace sex scandal, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.4K+

☆ A/N: if you would like to listen to the song that eddie is recording at the end - it is an actual, real life song. :-) it is called "blood sport" by sleep token (one of my favorite bands i get to see live next week!!), and i highly recommend listening to it during your reading. especially the latter half of this chapter.

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

“Alright, so – anyone care to fill me in on what the Hell that was?”

Matt stands like a disapproving father figure as the band lines up opposite of him just outside the building. Eddie had hoped nothing would be mentioned until they were in the car, but the driver was clearly running a few minutes late.

Three of the boys glance at each other, worried expressions immediately giving up the hoax even as Eddie only shrugs and says, “What do you mean?”

“Cut the shit, Munson,” Matt had never appeared so livid, so undone by irritation. His usual patience with Eddie is nonexistent, “What’s going on between you and that girl? Is she a past groupie?”

The insinuation gets a scoff out of Gareth. Jeff side-eyes him in warning, but Eddie couldn’t care less, “No, she’s not a past groupie. This was the first time I’d ever-”

“Don’t lie to me,” Matt points an accusatory finger at Eddie, narrowing his eyes, “I am your manager. If you have any unsavory connections with that girl, I need to know so I can decide if we need someone else to organize the event. We are not having another repeat of the Lewinsky scandal.”

“I knew it! I fucking knew you called it that, too!” Gareth cheers, but he’s quieted by one look from their furious manager.

The Lewinsky scandal had been their code-word for when the tabloids had become convinced that Eddie was fucking an assistant at the label. A girl had even come forward and claimed to have had sexual relations with Eddie, and he had taken heat for it for a full month before the buzzing novelty worn off.

Eddie had only spoken three words to the girl. No, thank you when she’d offered him a mug of coffee during a late night at the studio. He wishes now he’d been less polite.

And he also finds himself wishing that’s all this was. He wishes you were just another scandal, another terrible rumor spread around. If all the accusations between you two were false, if all the hatred was based on misconstrued circumstances, it would be so much easier. He can talk himself out of that. He can confess to those sins and get off with no more than the order of one hail mary from Matt.

But you? The reality of all that had happened, both all those years ago and just thirty minutes ago? He can’t find the words. They choke him up, unwilling to leave the cavern of his chest and enter the world, just like all the songs gathering dust as demos.

“It’s not going to be another Lewinsky scandal,” Eddie scowls, feet shuffling against the concrete below him. Can’t be another Lewinsky scandal if she wants nothing to do with me anymore, “Maybe she just doesn’t like me. I am allegedly a very polarizing public figu-”

The car pulls up, and Matt is quick to grab Eddie’s shoulder before glaring at the boys, “Get in, I’m not finished with our polarizing public figure yet.”

Grant and Gareth only let out low whistles, following instruction without lingering as they clamber into the back row of seats in the SUV. Jeff takes his time, though, going as far to pause beside Eddie and place a hand on his back.

“Just tell him the truth, Eds.”

It’s the final nail in his coffin. Eddie is cursing Jeff’s retreating figure as he climbs into the vehicle and shuts the door, leaving him alone with Matt.

“Explain,” Matt demands, “Now.”

Eddie’s eyes focus on a gaping crack in the sidewalk, jagged and uneven, right down the center.

He has two options. He could continue to lie, insist he knows nothing about you until Matt just gets bored of not being offered the truth. Or he could admit it all, reveal the muse behind the art he had been fiercely protecting over these last few months. Every line, every chord, every broken note that had left his lungs during those witching hours in the studio.

On one hand, it’ll rip away the opportunity that has been offered to him on a silver platter – the opportunity for closure. Selfish, bloody closure that neither of you had gotten, it seemed. But on the other hand, it might grant him some sympathy. Matt, the label, the producers – they had all grown tired of the dance Eddie led them in every time they’d inquire about the music. But if Matt knew-

It’s a dead end trail of thought. He knows he won’t admit to the worst of his atrocities he’s committed. No scandal, no late night ending with him in handcuffs, no fraudulent headline is going to compare to what he did to you. What you did to him.

It’s a little too late for damage control, anyways.

“I went to high school with her,” the lie works well enough, easing some of Matt’s frustration, “I was just shocked to see her. All of us were shocked to see her. No big deal.”

Eddie knows the people around him have come to learn that they must pick and choose the battles they engage in with him. And he can see that decision flash across Matt’s face as he decides that this is not a battle necessary to the war.

“Alright. But if you’re lying to me-“

“I’m not lying.”

“If you are, that’ll be one of my last straws, Munson.”

It won’t be. Eddie knows it won’t be. Everyone, every single goddamn person in this world it seems, is capable of giving Eddie Munson unlimited chances — except you. You, it seemed, were the only person who had come to their senses.

You always were smarter than people gave you credit for.

—

“Run the track again.”

They’d spent a few hours in the studio already. It was an odd hour for them to be haunting the space, more used to visiting in the dead of night rather than the middle of a weekday, but it was down to the wire now. Vocals needed to be recorded, instrumentals fine-tuned, tracks properly mastered. Eddie could no longer hide in the night when it came to recording the haunting melodies stained with the blood of his past — no matter how wrong it felt to see a sliver of sunlight breaking through one of the windows, just through the top of the blackout curtains.

“I really think that was the one, man-“ the producer starts, probably just tired after repeatedly running in circles with Eddie’s perfectionism.

He doesn’t care. He’s paying them, they can stand to let him re-record as many times as necessary to satisfy Eddie, “Run it again.”

The silence only continues to buzz in Eddie’s headphones. He’s ready to cuss out the producer as he angrily shoves them down, off his ears and hanging loosely around his neck, the wire a leash as he whips to face the one-way glass wall. The lights are off at the main board, guaranteeing that they can see Eddie but Eddie can’t see them.

Until suddenly, the light comes back on, and the reason for the absence of the repeated track Eddie had requested becomes obvious.

Gareth.

He stands at the center of it all, a few paces from the seated producer with a deep scowl on his face.

“What the fuck?” Eddie says, mouth just close enough to the mic for them to catch his overflowing annoyance, “I said-“

“We heard what you said, Eddie,” Gareth interrupts, his voice just loud enough to be faintly heard even as the headphones curl around the nape of Eddie’s neck, “But I need to talk to you.”

It’s the strictest tone that Gareth has used on their lead singer in an unfathomably measure of time. Probably because it’s the most words he’s said to Eddie in a very long time, as well.

Eddie finally removes the headphones, hanging them carelessly on the mic stand and moving towards the door — surprisingly, without putting up a resistance.

The control room is warmer than the fairly large area that served as a ‘booth’. Smaller, as well. Cramped with a low couch and one too many chairs available to trip over, the control board spanses the entire wall that holds the oversized window into the recording room. A plethora of small lights twinkle like stars, and numerous switches that Eddie had come to know better than the back of his hand alternate positions to guarantee the clearest sound. Only Gareth and the producer occupy the room, the rest of the band having taken off around the fifth time Eddie had requested a redo of his vocal tracking.

“This better be good,” Eddie complains, furrowing his brows, agitated at the interruption.

But Gareth shows no remorse, “We need to talk.”

“Yeah, you said that already.”

“We need to talk,” Gareth repeats, eyes flickering to the poor soul still seated at the controls, “Alone.”

Eddie hardly has to open his mouth, the man jumping out of his seat the moment the lead singer flicks his wrist to signal for him to leave.

Whatever Gareth was about to say had to be important, and it’s that thought rather than the difference in temperatures that has sweat building on Eddie’s brows.

Is he about to quit the band? Is he about to tell me he’s had enough? Maybe he’s done with my bullshit — I would be.

“Speak, Emerson,” Eddie flatly insists, grabbing a small water bottle out of one of the mini fridges in the room before he throws himself onto the worn leather of the couch, “And make it quick. We’re on a time limit, you kno-“

“We’ve gotta talk about her, man.”

Her as in you.

For a moment, Gareth sounds like a friend again. He’s dropped all the persistent perturbation he’s taken to defending himself with when it comes to Eddie, his voice pleading as he stands before the distant man. All the rueful power plays that had developed over the last year vanish. It’s just Eddie and Gareth, bandmates who started out in the latter’s garage in some small Indiana town. Not Eddie Munson, infamous rockstar with a chip on his shoulder. Not Gareth Emerson, passionate drummer overshadowed by the ego of his lead singer. Just Eddie and Gareth.

“We all know you didn’t tell Matt the truth.”

“I did tell him the truth-“

“Not the whole truth, then. There’s no way he’d let it slide if he knew that she was your ex-girlfriend.”

The defiance vacates Eddie’s body quickly. He doesn’t even attempt to prowl his mind for a quick quip in response. All he does at the words is drop his shoulders, the defeat creeping up on him as he deflates.

Ex-girlfriend. The title feels so pitiful to truly describe what you were to him.

But to be fair, even when he had been in your good graces, girlfriend had also never felt significant enough.

“Did-“ Gareth starts after a beat of silence, noting the way Eddie couldn’t quite hide his wounds on the topic, “What did you guys talk about? When you went after her, what did she say?”

“Nothing important.”

Eddie turns into a shell, a zombie as he stares straight ahead and tries to compartmentalize. That always worked; with meetings, with arguments, with lectures. Even before the fame, it worked.

It doesn’t work quite as quickly when it comes to you. His brain, it seems, is incapable of uncrossing all the wires you twist within his brain.

“You two were alone for, what, ten minutes? And you’re telling me she didn’t say anything important?”

“What the fuck is there to say?” Eddie laughs soullessly, “Oh, hey, stranger! Remember me? The guy you up and left without a word?”

“Yes!” Gareth shouts unexpectedly, “Yes, that’s exactly what you should have done! She left. Not just you, but all of us. We never even really knew why. And now- what? Are we just supposed to pretend we don’t know her?”

Eddie knew why. She’d never had to say it, and that was the issue. He always thought about all the answers he swore he craved, and always let every question he claimed to have haunt him during the waking hours. But when the day turned to night, when he was left to nothing but his own devices in a dark and empty apartment during the witching hours, he knew. The question of why had been answered since the first phone call cut short with you during that goddamn tour.

The songs knew, too. He supposes it had been an arrogant assumption to believe the band had read into his lyrics and put the pieces together.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Eddie nearly whispers, throat tightening and fighting him on the words. It’s the opposite of what he wants and needs — but it’s what you want and what you need. And so he plays the messenger, even as it kills him, “We are going to completely disregard my past with her. We are going to treat this entire situation as professionally as possible. I’m talking the full nine yards: you will not mention the fact that we know her, you will not question her about anything from the past, and you will not, under any circumstances, ask her why.”

His own set of rules he’d privately set for himself in his own mind during the car ride over.

Gareth squints his eyes in disbelief, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Are you serious?”

“Deathly so.”

“This isn’t just about your past with her,” the boy nearly passes, starts to reach up to tug on his hair before he thinks better of it, “This is about the way she left all of us. Not just you. She was a friend to all of us. She was the one who taught me how to tape my drums when I’d bust a hole in them, she was the one who helped us design our first merch, she was the only person any of us would let be in the room during practices. And not just the band stuff, either,” Eddie watches tears form in Gareth’s eyes, “She was the only one who had the patience to help me with my fucking math homework back in school, man. She was the one who nearly curb stomped Jason Carver the week he sent Grant home with a black eye. She was the first person Jeff called when his parents broke news of their divorce, for fucks sake. Not me, not you, not any of us — her,” Gareth’s breaths come out as pants as he stops his pacing and stands before Eddie. The tears continue to lace his bottom lash line as he heaved silently at the end of his rant, his pained expression completely unexpected to Eddie.

This is the part Eddie chooses to forget. He’ll let himself swim in the memory of you late at night, he’ll indulge in vices that always amplify his pain rather than succeeding in his attempt to numb it, he’ll stare down the mirror each morning and curse the reflection he finds with all the blame in the world he is capable of holding in the palms of his hands. But in all the ruptures of his own old scars, he fails to consider that he is not the only one burdened with loss.

They all lost you. When Eddie lost you, so did the band. You’d become a ghost to more than just your abandoned lover — you’d become a tired haunt to boys you’d known, boys you’d befriended and burrowed your way into the lives of, just as well.

“She was our friend,” Gareth chokes out, fists curling at his sides, “Jesus Christ, I- I get it. She was everything to you. Whatever. But she meant a lot to the rest of us, too. Whatever happened wasn’t just some isolated event — you two didn’t just hurt each other. You set off whatever bomb erased her from our lives, but it left the rest of us with some damage, too. Don’t forget that.”

This is the part where Eddie should apologize. This is the part where, once upon a blissful time, he would have said his repentance.

He doesn’t.

“I don’t care how hurt anyone is,” he lowly responds, eyes unable to meet Gareth’s any longer, “I’ve told you the rules, we’re going to follow them. End of discussion.”

Gareth throws back his head, and Eddie winces at his scoff, “She’s not your fucking property, Eddie! She isn’t solely yours to keep or whatever the fuck you think you’re doing!”

Eddie can’t even deny the action of keeping you. All the demos, all the songs laid to the grave because he couldn’t stomach the thought of releasing them for others to experience.

But that’s not what this was. This, the cataclysm that was sending Gareth to finally release all this pent up frustration, was him following your rules. You’d made your wishes for this project very clear, and he needed to at least try to respect them. They all did.

So he takes on the role of the bad guy. He lets them paint him as the villain if it means no red will stain your ledger.

“Oh, I think she’s made it very clear that she isn’t mine,” the mask slips on far too easily for Eddie. Cool demeanor, compartmentalizing. Not you, but his emotions towards his friends, if he could even still call them that. His bandmates that he had once seen as brothers. “Doesn’t change what I said. Don’t push it, Emerson, or there’ll be Hell to pay.”

“What are you going to do? Disappear on us?” Eddie finally looks back up to meet Gareth’s fiery gaze as he spits out hateful words, “Hate to break it to you, but you already left this band behind two years ago. And if you ask me, you should start leaving the vanishing act to her. At least she doesn’t make us pay for her mistakes.”

Eddie is by no means done with the conversation, more than willing to continue fighting with Gareth, but the other boy clearly feels differently. He leaves his words hanging in the air as he spins away, storming out of the door, the air in the studio now several degrees hotter now with the irate fuel of the fight.

It was all a blood sport. All of it. It didn’t matter if Eddie was fighting with the band, the management, with you. It was all bloody and fruitless, and it all left him the same awful type of hollow in the end.

He stares blankly at the wall as he makes a silent decision.

By the time the producer has timidly returned to the room, Eddie has already set up his laptop to connect to the studio's system, prepped so that any recording would automatically copy into his personal hard drive. A way for him to listen and ruminate in the privacy of his own apartment.

The sheet music torn from his notebook already lays at the table besides the entrance to the booth.

“Do you… want to run the track again?” the man, the stranger, asks. He clearly heard the fight. Eddie and Gareth hadn’t been exactly quiet in their screaming match. At least, Gareth hadn’t been.

Is it really a screaming match if only one side fights back?

“I want to lay a new track,” Eddie’s voice is deadpan as he clicks a few buttons, finalizing everything. He only needs the man to click record, “A raw piano and vocal demo. We can add the rest of the band later.”

“I-“

One look from Eddie, hardly passed over his shoulder with a glimmer of unbridled determination, and the man quiets as he takes his seat.

Eddie storms into the booth without another word, fist curled around the page of lyrics and terribly hand-drawn music clefts.

She isn’t yours to keep.

Eddie was aware of that. Painfully, painfully aware. But it had never been about his claim to you.

Gareth was right. Eddie never wanted to own you. Keeping you, however, had been something he should have taken more care with.

The chill of the small room to record in does little to lessen the flames eating Eddie up as he bypasses the assembly of various instruments all crowded in the space. Gareth’s drum set, Jeff’s guitar, Grant’s bass — he storms right past them, eyes locked on the grand piano in the fair corner. It took up the most space, far too large to have been forced to be contained within this compact room.

Eddie drags the mic from where it had been stationed previously with him, quickly and recklessly resetting it at the piano.

Once he’s seated on the bench, crumpled pages thrown up onto the music desk of the piano and headphones snug over his ears again, the producer finally clicks on his mic to speak.

“Hey, uh… Does this demo have a name by chance? Or do you just want to label it as an unknown for now?”

It certainly does have a name.

“Blood Sport,” Eddie spits out. “Just name the file Blood Sport.”

The hum that would indicate to Eddie when those on the other side of that glass window were speaking clicks off, and he takes it as his cue.

He’d written the song a while before. There were some gaps in the lyrics, some notes he’d played with on his personal piano scribbled over and never replaced. He’d never played it in its entirety before.

It starts slow. His fingers hold the ivory keys delicately, arranging for the first opening notes as if he were slotting his knuckles against your own for the first time over again.

She isn’t yours to solely keep.

Were you ever his to keep, ever?

Even the ivory keys of the Steinway are more solid than you ever were. You were nothing more than water, than blood, destined to slip between Eddie’s fingers. He never stood a chance in having you, in holding you, in keeping you.

Not just now, but before all the blood shed, as well. He should have recognized Cassandra’s curse the first day he looked into your eyes. He should have known the twist in his stomach was only Fate sinking its claws into the two of you.

A tale fit for a Shakespearean stage — a tragedy always meant to be.

“I want to roll the numbers, I want to feel my stars align again.”

Eddie’s voice is soft to match the steady beat of piano notes that emit from the crooked curl of his hand against the keys. A soft thump, a gentle lull. And instead of losing himself in the music, he finds himself wrapped up in one of the many memories he’d chosen to lock away for the last two years.

Something was off.

Eddie’s stomach had twisted with anxiety of something being wrong for weeks. You stopped answering his calls, his texts, every form of connection with him. But as he stood in front of the door to your shared apartment, the bile rose even higher in his throat.

He smelt the decay of what he had done before his key had even entered the lock.

“Would you invite me again? Won’t you pay for your arrogance? Won’t you show me your weakness?”

You were never his to keep.

His voice nearly cracks as he approaches the first chorus, not finding the strength behind the vocals he’d always envisioned for the song.

The click of the door opening echoed through the apartment. It felt empty the moment he’d crossed the threshold – you could have just been tucked away in the bedroom, or even in the bathroom, but he knew.

You hadn’t been returning his phone calls. You hadn’t been returning his texts. He knew something had happened, something had changed. Irreversible damage had been done, and he would now have to face the mess he’d created to return home to.

“I made loving you a blood sport.”

He repeats the line until it rings in his head, over and over. Until he swears the words could crack his bones, and the stars that will show in the night sky will do nothing but mock him for the self-inflicted pain.

At first, he convinced himself you just weren’t home. You’d gone to the store or to see friends. You’d be home soon enough and then, the two of you could scream at each other all you wanted. You were angry with him, rightfully so, but he’d rather you yell and scrap with him than the alternative. He didn’t care. Because he was here, back in the flesh and willing to take any and all cruel words you had sharpened for him. The two of you would fight, yes, but at least that meant there was still something there worth fighting for.

After the first three hours, he realized with a sinking stomach that the alternative might just be his reality.

“I want to be forgiven.”

He recalls the look on your face when you’d first seen him today. The fall of your act, the discarding of grace and composure.

The look that told him that he can want all he’s capable of. He can want, he can crave, he can yearn, he can tear himself apart bit by bit with his feeble yet shattering cravings — it won’t change a thing.

You were never his to keep.

After the clock struck the fifth hour of his return, he started his calling.

Over and over and over, he was met with your voicemail. Endless messages spoken and sent alike. Every single one trying to be gentle as they inquired where you were. Letting you know he was back. Going as far as to ask you if the two of you could talk.

He wanted to fight. He wanted to fight, because it meant you still saw something worthy within him.

But even more than Eddie wanted a fight, he wanted you to come home. He wanted you to be there, to welcome him into your safety and remind him he was human again. It was selfish – he was so goddamn selfish – but he needed to feel your skin against his and remind him that he was still a person beneath it all. Beneath the demand, beneath the unwarranted adoration from strangers, beneath all the fractures the sudden traction had left him with – he was still a breathing, living person. He was still your person.

Eddie’s fingers begin to slam against the keys with increasing urgency as his chest heaves out with every syllable. Repeating, and repeating, and repeating the chorus as if it changes a single thing. He loses himself in it all; in the music ringing in his ears and the memories now drowning him as he confesses all his sins to the microphone.

You never came home.

There was no fight, and after the hours reached double digits right along with his ignored phone calls, he had to accept the truth.

You weren’t just at a friend’s, or the store. You were gone. Truly, truly gone.

The drawers once filled with your belongings were vacant. The smell of your perfume was nothing more than a whisper across the pillows. Eddie scoured the entire apartment for signs of you, turning every single piece of furniture over looking for clues. He never thought to check the counter until he’d already ruined the space, terrorizing it in a frenzy before his eyes landed on the letter and the key.

He had approached them both hesitantly. All his denial drained from his body, like the blood pumping through his veins, as his fingers pinched that silver key so gingerly.

A past he can never return to. A home he will never hold the key to again.

The joints of his fingers ache and his lungs begin to burn for all that he lost — all that they all lost — because of him. His own foolishness, his own downfall. He did this.

The aftermath is blurry.

He read the first few words of your letter before promptly crumbling it with his tortured fist, knowing exactly what it said without needing to fully swallow all the words just yet.

He never fully read the letter. He skimmed it, a week later, but not that night.

Then came the flashes of the pain. The way he’d swung his fists at air and menial objects alike. A vase holding wilted carnations met its demise on the kitchen floor, a hole in the wall appeared that he later had to patch up, one of the coffee tables ended up across the living room with a leg splintered half off.

He never dropped the key.

Even as he dropped to his knees in the center of the broken glass, bleeding shins to match his bruising knuckles, he still held that small piece of silver fiercely. He pressed it so tightly, dug it so deeply into his palm that it later left a scar. And not even the way he had grabbed at the broken glass surrounding him had the capability to mar it away as he let it slice his skin, crying out, hopeless and devastated.

You were gone. He had lost you, and he had been arrogant enough to never even notice it.

“You say it doesn’t matter.”

The headphones had long since slipped off his head, and he makes no move to adjust them. He hadn’t even noticed that his body had begun to fall forward and curl into the piano until he’s weakly choking out the final lyric that he hadn’t even written down onto the page.

He hadn’t noticed the tears falling, either.

What were meant to be gasps for air as his fingers fly across the keys in a haunting melody are only sobs. Cries of pain as he no longer can see mere inches ahead of him, a scar of the center of his palm stinging as if brand new, his heart and head pounding in sync. He isn’t even sure if the producer he’s forgotten the name of is still recording. He lets the sobs slip out as he continues to play.

He can’t quite end the song yet. The moment he does, he’s terrified of the version of him that he will have to face once more. All those surface blemishes from the beginning of the end had run deeper beneath his skin. He was nothing more than rubble and fractures now, splintered every which way until he had become unrecognizable. When he looked in the mirror, all he could see was a creature of destruction.

“You set off whatever bomb erased her from our lives, but it left the rest of us with some damage, too. Don’t forget that,” Gareth’s voice echoes in the silence beginning to gather between the notes.

Another wrecked sob leaves Eddie as he finally finishes off the melody, playing entirely unaffected up until that point. Reality crashes down. His body shakes, shoulders hunched as his forehead connects against the freezing wood of the piano and he pinches his eyes shut tightly enough to be left in total blackness.

He couldn’t play another note if his life depended upon it.

The memory fades with the final note before his head rattles with a new image. The smile, the grimace, you had offered him before you two parted ways today. An effort at professionalism that Eddie had seen right through.

Pain. That’s what had twitched in the corners of your mouth. The same pain, if not worse, as the one that now radiated through every atom of Eddie’s broken figure on the piano bench.

He can’t fix it. Not your pain, not Gareth’s pain, not his own pain. The time for damage control, for sincere apologies and any reconciliation has passed. Just like watered-down blood through his fingertips.

Eddie hopes that the producer has had half the mind to stop the recording when he stands and slams the drumset behind him into the wall. Destructive, just as he had been the night he returned to an empty apartment. Just as he had been when he’d been the one to rot and wither away all that you two had once held between you.

They can replace the drum set. Surely, he has a person for that.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @gagasbee @d64d-n0t-sl66p1ng @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n

join my taglist!

#ghost's writing #eddie munson #maroon #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #rockstar eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #finally long enough tag lists to separate lol #voila! corroded coffin is sleep token! wahoo!#i recommend everyone listen to the discography of that band #just sayin #(dial tone is the only non sleep token song that is canon here)#i just can't let go of the death grip i have on that song when it comes to this fic #it was either gonna be catch your breath sleep token or bad omens #and sleep token captures the yearning #Spotify

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tadpoleteef · 9 months ago

Text

gamer girl 👾

18+ MINORS DNI

word count: 1.5k

pairing: austin x female!reader

warnings: SMUT, oral (m receiving), lil fem dom???, unprotected sex

summary: austin’s playing video games with friends and isn’t paying attention to you. long story short you end up trying to dom him which obvi doesn’t go far and then you ride him in his gaming chair yassssss.

a/n: hiii so i’ve been reading fan fiction for years and i’ve always wanted to write it. i wrote an austin butler one shot like 2 years ago, posted it, but it was just awful so i deleted it. then i had a the summer i turned pretty phase, and wrote a one shot about jeremiah fisher confessing his love to you. this story was also deleted because of how just awful it was. anyway, i think my writing has gotten a little better soooo here’s a little smut one shot for ya.

꒦꒷♡꒷꒦

it was around 8pm on a saturday night, and you and austin were at home, spending the rest of your night in your little apartment. you were sitting on your bed in a short white lace nightgown, scrolling through instagram. austin was across the room sitting at his desk, playing a game on his xbox. he had been playing for a little while now, screaming at his friends into the microphone and raging everytime he had to redo the level.

getting a little tired of his lack of attention, you put your phone down and walked over to where he was sitting. you stood behind him, rubbing his shoulders gently. he relaxed into your touch, leaning back into the chair with his eyes still locked on the screen in front of him. you leaned down to his ear and whispered,

“are you having fun, handsomel?”

it took him a second to respond, so you tapped his shoulder lightly which made him look back at you then back at the screen.

“uh- what? oh yeah im fine sorry im about to die”

right when he said that the tv went black and the words “game over” illuminated the screen. you could hear his friends complaining through the microphone. he threw the controller down on the game, rubbing his eyebrows and letting out a sigh.

you giggled a little bit, it was funny to see a grown man get so upset over a video game. “it's okay love, just try again” you spoke. he turned around with a stern look, “i can’t just fuckin’ try again, it’s gonna take me hours to redo all this.”

you were a little taken back by his harsh tone, so you took your hands off his shoulders and rolled your eyes, annoyed that the game was getting more attention than you. you layed back on the bed staring at the ceiling. you weren’t upset that austin was choosing his game over you right now, i mean he worked practically everyday so he needed a break sometimes, you were just craving him. jeez, when were you not? you wanted his touch, his lips on yours and his domination. you wanted him right now and that was the only thing going through your mind. acting on your thoughts you walked over again but this time you stood in front of him, between him and the desk.

“baby- could you please move?” he moved his head to the left and right trying to see around your waist. you stepped closer and put your legs through the arm holes of the chair, lowering yourself onto his waist. you were now facing him, your chests together as he looked at the screen with a confused, mad look. He kissed your cheek then laid his chin on your shoulder, pressing down the buttons on the controller. you smirked knowing he had no idea what was about to come.

you started off light, moving your hips back and forth. you weren’t sure if he knew you were even moving so you applied some more pressure, fully sitting on his dick. “guys over there ov-” he stopped mid sentence. with your smirk growing bigger, you went faster, now basically dry humping him. he switched the mic setting so it was on mute and questioned “what are you doing?”

you looked at him and took off the straps of your nightgown, letting it fall down to your waist, showing off your matching white undergarments. he looked at you up and down, drinking in your figure. you had him wrapped around your finger.

you bent down to is ear and whispered, “you’re gonna sit still and act normal while i take your dick, sound good?” you cocked your head to the side, awaiting his response. he looked up at you with a shocked expression, coming from your dominance toward him. “i like it when you’re bossy.” he squeezed your thigh. “and you didn’t answer my question.” you added to his compliment. he gave you the ‘let’s see what you got look,’ and you knew you had the okay. you took a little less pressure off his waist so he could pull down his sweatpants, boxers following.

you sat down so his member was resting, hard, against your stomach. you looked away from his piercing eyes and spat onto the tip, slowly taking your thumb and spreading it around. he bit his lip and closed his eyes for a split second taking in the feeling. he snapped out of his trance quickly when his friends started yelling at him for his inactivity.

he went to respond but you stroked his cock slowly and he but his lip to hide back a moan and put the mic on mute again. you bit the inside of your cheek trying not to smile after seeing how much pleasure he was receiving. he let out a low groan when you cupped his balls slowly. you stopped your hands, looking at him. he quickly mouthed “sorry” as he disobeyed you. “not one noise from you” he nodded and you stroked him again.

after a few minutes of austin holding back moans, you could tell he was close, he was barely even focusing on the game anymore, mostly on the way your fingers gently warmed his cock. you stopped and stood up moving your panties to the side. he furrowed his eyebrows, needing more of your touch.

“how bad do you want it?” you rubbed your clit slowly in front of him. he looked down at your hand then back up at you. “really really bad” he took one hand off his controller and grabbed your waist. you switched the settings so the mic was now on and got close to it, “hi boys, austins not feeling to well, gonna let him get some rest.”

after you finished your sentence austin said bye then immediately smashed his lips into yours. the kiss was sloppy but deep, both just focusing on grabbing whatever skin you could. he pulled away and rubbed the tip against your clit gently. you sucked in a breath, knowing that meant he wanted you now. you moved forward a little more and slowly sat down. you two had just had sex two days ago but every time he first entered you, it was like you were a virgin all over again. he was without a doubt big, stretching you out as you finally sat all the way down on his cock. you moaned and let your head fall back.

wanting more, you moved your hips back and forth, placing your hands on his chest. “does that feel good angel?” he questioned, blue eyes staring into yours. “yes, oh yes” you started to go faster, austin saw your need and started fucking up into you. at the angle you two were sitting at, he was hitting your g spot with the first thrust. your moans turned into screams as he hammered into you.

“oh my god aus that's so good” you moaned and he smirked and then faster, the room becoming hotter by the second. he took one of your hands and pressed it against your stomach hard. you could feel his dick going in and out of you. “you feel my big my dick fucking your pretty pussy? gonna put a fuckin’ baby you mama”

his words brought you over the edge, and he could tell you were about to cum. he circled your clit with his fingers taking one last glance at your gorgeous body being destroyed before you cried out a moan. your orgasm sent a hot flash through your whole body. your legs were shaking and your heart was racing. without even thinking you got off austin and got on your knees in front of him, trying to help him out.

he laughed, “such a good girl helping me out” he made a makeshift ponytail with your hair and was forcing your head down. the sounds coming out of your mouth were erotic. girks and glugs filled the room and you could feel tears streaming down your face. his dick started to twitch in your mouth and you grabbed his balls again. you felt the warm cum coat your throat before you tasted it. you swallowed and took your head off him, sitting back onto your calves.

he leaned forward into the chair, grabbing your chin and making you look up at him. He had never seen anything more sexy. your hair was all frizzy, mascara running down your face onto your neck, and a mix of his cum and spit spilling down your lip. He wiped it off with his thumb and then placed it in your mouth and you sucked the mixture off.

“you really thought you could dominate me?” he laughed and helped you up, sitting you down on the bed.

“hey, i had you for like the first 10 minutes” you responded smilining.

he wiped you up, got you all clean, and took you to bed. you two ended the night off by having multiple little tickle fights, and arguing over which board game you should play next weekend. right before you drifted off you heard austin's voice softly say.

“I will admit, domination by y/n y/l/n is something we should do more often.” his words took you by surprise, but you smirked and snuggled closer to him.

yep, wrapped around your finger

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x reader smut

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novasdarling · 2 years ago

Note

I feel like this is an unhinged idea but Mahito with a breeding kink + actually getting reader pregnant with some monster baby

Hahahaha I like your thinking my dear.

Give Me

TW: Suicide Mention, Noncon, Forced Relationship, Baby trapping, Abortion mention, Breeding Kink, Pregnancy, Female Reader.

The sun was setting. Watching as the sky became darker and darker, as the night rolled in, and the day left. Watching as your safety was being ripped from you for another time. It wouldn't be long till he came. It never was. After all, he came every night like clocked work. Once the moon was bright and visible. He was there, Mahito. Ready to indulge in whatever sick fantasy or curiosity he had that night. Whatever his dead, twisted heart wanted at that moment, he got.

Mahito took pleasure in playing with you. Contorting you any way he wanted, making you do things you had never imagined were possible. Then in the morning when he left, he would leave you in your room begging for death. Pleading with whatever god there was to have mercy on you and end it all, but death would be a mercy from a monster like Mahito and no god seemed like it wanted to get in his way. At one point you had toyed with the idea of giving yourself the so-called mercy you prayed for. Pausing every time you held a knife. Imagining if you were brave enough to plunge it into your chest. To rid yourself of his grip by any means. Yet, you knew death wouldn't stop Mahito from having his fun with you. He made that clear. All it would do would make it challenging for him, but he would still continue.

There was no escape from this hell, neither in life nor death and as you heard the floorboards creak behind you. You recognised all that was granted to you was a monetary relief during the day. A few hours to recuperate and heal your wounds the best you could before it was stripped of you once again. A moment of relief that was now over as the daylight disappeared.

All there could be done now was to wait. Wait for him to come again. There was no see in running. He'd always find you, that much he had proved, but the wait wouldn't be long. The air was getting colder, dropping rapidly. A sign he was near. It was moving around you, engulfing your body as you sat looking out the window. The cold was creeping along your skin. Clawing its way up slowly. Taking its time to leave a trail of goosebumps along your arms until it reached your shoulders. The cold changed to pressure. Laying its weight wherever it had touched you. Sinking you into your seat. Forcing you lower, to fight back against it. The weight was taking a shape, and second by second, it was becoming easier to tell it was him. His hands and body were on you.

"My favourite part of the day."

It was no more than a whisper. Right by in your ear, you could feel his breath. Yet, somehow his voice sounded so distant. He wasn't fully there yet. He was still lingering in the air. Making his way to you slowly. Playing with you. Scaring you before he even got there. You were his favourite. One he would take care of so he could resume having his fun with as long as your feeble mortal body could hold on. After all, all humans died eventually. Mahito just hoped it would not be from the enjoyment you two had.

"The bed."

Abruptly the weight was gone, and the chill had left as well. Mahito wasn't with you now. Which meant he was waiting for you elsewhere. Waiting for you to follow his order and pursue him like a puppy. Like a good toy, he had called you that many times. A good toy follows orders and then gets rewarded.

There was still a part of you that said no, wanting to resist and stay seated or run, but the part that odd part that knew his anger knew no bounds would always follow his orders. Even if you wanted to die, there was still a strong part that wanted to self-preserve.

The bed he had said. The bedroom. He wanted you there. You knew what he wanted. Knew what the bedroom meant. Mahito had figured out sex a few months ago. Figured out what it was and why it occurred. Stating he was curious about it. Wanted to learn. Forced you to show him, and who were you to refuse the curse? To say no to him when he could so easily kill you and everyone you ever cared about, no wasn't an option.

Night after night he would come. Sex was still on his mind, even weeks later. Trying new positions, new technics. Him telling you where he heard it from, where he had seen it. One time he had claimed he learned this position from a couple he had watched before he killed them. Things got worse when he discovered porn. He learned even more. Forcing you to try everything with him. Every position. Trying to make you sound the same as the pornstars. It got even worse when he learned what a female orgasm was. Deciding to abuse it. Making you overstimulated every time. He was having fun while you were in tears. Mahito tended to share with you what his new desire was. being upfront and having no shame, forcing you into any role he saw fit, but this time was different. He was quiet about his true intentions. Not letting you know the truth. He kept silent about his new interest, instead playing it out without your knowledge. You always assumed since he was a curse, something not living, he couldn't force a child on you. That he was shooting blanks. So it didn't matter he was fucking you raw. That a child from a curse was impossible. After all, curses are made not born. That he was just having fun fucking you and filling you with his useless cum.

Making your way to him, your mind still toyed with the question of why had sex stuck. Though all you could really do was endure what he wanted to try this time and hope this fascination drifted away sooner rather than later.

You could hope, after all. That was all you had, hope when it came to Mahito. He always got his way, so who were you to make it harder? If you followed along with his wishes, it would be better. He would sometimes even reward your good behaviour by holding off on a visit or two.

Even as you dragged your feet, you were still were met by him eventually. Seeing his full form sitting on your bed. You knew what to do, following the same routine as the last couple of months. For you to strip and meet him is what he was waiting for. If he had his fun, perhaps it would be an early night. They were rare, but they were given. Though as you stripped, your might was racing. This little interest of his, sex, hadn't disappeared as soon as the others.

Your sweater came off.

Why was it still lingering? It had been months?

Your shirt followed.

Why was he so interested in having sex.? In fucking you every night until the morning light came up?

Then your braw followed.

The worst part was that he insisted on fucking you raw. At least he wasn't living. His cum was all for show, right?

Your pyjama pants came off.

His interest in seeing if he could turn you into something and bring you back had only lasted a few weeks, a month tops.

Then your underwear.

You were now bare in front of him. Standing there as your mind kept asking questions, unable to find answers.

"Come here."

Following his order, your mind still raced with questions, with distractions. As he caressed your body. Stroking and squeezing you. Especially relishing in squeezing your ass, chest and thighs. Laughing when you winced as he got too aggressive. Pain was funny to him. He laughed when you cried that he was being mean. Smiled when you told him the bruises that littered your body was from him. Got excited when you begged him to fuck you softer cause your body just couldn't take it. Human pain was funny.

It wasn't long until you were laying under him, you tried to black out his image. His face, the way the lines ran all along it and his body. The way he grinned at you when he knew you were scared. The worse part was his voice. Talking, commanding. Telling you how much he wanted you today while you were busy. He would describe your day, letting you know he had been watching from the shadows. That he was always there with you. You needed to block him out and shutting your eyes would allow you to get rid of one of your senses that were filled by him.

"Tsk tsk tsk." He had stopped fucking you. "Look at me."

Mahito wanted you to watch. To see his face as he fucked you. As he used your body any way he wanted. Look into his eyes as he filled you over and over. He wanted his toy to be present, to not ignore him or his actions. Looking into his eyes as he had his way with you. Fucked you until daybreak, until you were dripping with his cum. Unable to hold anymore.

This night was like the others, except he had a new position. The mating press. You were shocked he hadn't learned of this one sooner, yet, thankful at the same time. Mahito had you pressed in that position most of the night. Whining every time he finished. Only to continue again and again. His word began to slur as the hours drifted on. Not making as much sense as earlier. However, you could still catch a few orders and words here and there. Some of his words haunted you though.

"I'm going to breed you."

It stuck with you, simply because it made you think. At first, you assumed it was just him repeating words from porn like the others, but then you realized. When was the last time you had your period? Did you have one this month? You couldn't remember. Your body went stiff, realizing what was transpiring. You were late, who knows how long. You had spent so much time simply trying to survive Mahito, you never stopped to realize why you hadn't bled yet. All you could do now was lay there, lay there in fear and continue to let all those questions from before. Find their answers.

As the night turned to day and Mahito disappeared. You ran to your calendar, you had tracked your cycle. Searching through the months, looking for the last of the red boxes. Not this month, not last, no they only appeared three months ago. Three months you had missed your period. Three fucking months.

You raced to the store, hoping that if you were a regular pregnancy test would answer your question. Would this cursed creature even make a pregnancy test be positive? Would any test be able to read if you were or not? Once you got home you found the answer. It was yes, the test could pick up on the creature growing inside of you. It was positive. Mahito had done the impossible.

All you had were questions when it came to Mahito, this only added to them. He never made sense, never explaining his actions fully, but at least before you knew what was happening. This was unexpected. Could you get rid of it? Would an abortion work on this?

Looking at yourself in the mirror. Staring at yourself, analyzing your body. It was mad, but you still lifted your shirt. Gazing at your stomach. Running your hands along it. You couldn't be, this had to be a bad dream. No god, if there were any, could hate you so much.

"Fascinating."

Mahito has sprung into view in the mirror. Standing behind you, in the door frame. He was gazing at your stomach. Looking over it again and again as he stood there.

"What the hell did you do?"

You were scared now, fearing the worse. The way he looked at you was terrifying. As if you were a wonder of the world. Just something to be analyzed and examined. A look he had never given you before.

"I wanted to know if it was true."

You were just his little science experiment. His school project to be tested on. You weren't a person to him, just something for him to use. If that hadn't set in before. It had now. You wanted to scream at him, cuss at him, hit him. Anything to get your anger out, but what use would that be? He had gotten you this time and there was no way out from him. Not that he now knew.

Mahito made his way to you. That same smile never left his face, instead only getting wider. He was behind you know, holding your form against him. Resting his hands on your stomach.

"It's finally taken."

"Mahito...Please tell me-tell me i-it isn't-"

"Oh, sweetie, it is. You're carrying my seed." He was nuzzling his head into your shoulder as he whispered. Kissing in between words. As if you two were a happy couple with thrilling news.

Mahito had gotten you pregnant. He had fucked some fucked up thing into you. He was going to force you to carry this thing to term, to birth it. Would it even be human? Or even resemble anything like you?

"W-what is i-it?" You were holding back tears.

"Hmm... I'm not sure, but I'm looking forward to seeing it." He saw the fear in your eyes. "It's okay if this one isn't to your liking. We now know we can always make more."

He was planning more. Planning to fuck more fucked up creatures into you. Make you something to bread him as many monsters as he pleases.

"I don't want this."

It was a whisper, but you knew he heard. Refusing to look at him in the mirror. Instead staring at his hands on your belly.

"Hmmm, that's sad because I do. I want to see you grow big. Like those women I see. Barley able to walk properly. Not fitting into anything anymore. Yeah, I want to see you like that." His hands began to rub your stomach as he held onto you. "I want you as mine like any other man could have you and if that means fucking you until you give me a whole army of monsters." Mahito leant in more, kissing your cheek before continuing. "Then I happily will."

#yandere #yandere mahito #yandere jjk #mahito #jjk #yandere mahito x reader #yandere x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #yandere jjk x reader #mahito x reader #yandere anime #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #yandere smut #jujutsu kaisen #nova writes

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cynicalclairvoyantcadaver · 17 days ago

Text

COMPARING JUDE DUARTE TO PERCY JACKSON AND SOPHIE FOSTER

So, I've read TFOTA, KOTLC and PJO, and I'm sure many other people have done the same. I've been comparing Jude to Percy and Sophie for a long time, so I wanted to type it out and make an analysis. Here we go now.

One thing I find about Jude is that she's different from both Percy and Sophie in the sense that she's thrust into a hostile world where she had no friends and had to fend for herself pretty early on. Her parents are murdered right in front of her eyes and she's taken to Elfhame, and we know that the TFOTA faeries don't like humans-most of them at least.

And while Sophie is also thrust into an entirely different system, it's friendly to her. Yes, she misses her human family and Amy, but Shannon barely goes into this. Sophie's not harmed or looked down upon (except by a few people, and they're not that relevant.) In fact, she's quite important and gets a lot of help (along with a bunch of trauma, though. Not trying to downplay Sophie's experience).

Percy also discovers the world of demigods, but he doesn't have to leave much behind-the mythological and modern world are heavily intertwined, so actually gains something, which means that he can go on living his life like he used to, except with advantages now (except being hunted by monsters)

Which brings me to my first point-

JUDE HAS NO PROTECTION SYSTEM OR HELP

Sure, she's Madoc's ward, but she's not his actual daughter. But she's a human in Elfhame-and we all know what that means. Those of us who have read the books, at least. Sure, being Madoc's adopted daughter gives her some protection, but it doesn't stop her from being glamoured and traumatized. It doesn't stop her ring finger's tip from being bitten off at 9 years old, by one of Madoc's servants no less, right in his stronghold. It doesn't stop the servants from mentally abusing her by making her feel inferior and telling her that she is lucky to be raised like this. Jude herself says that Tatterfell was probably considering pricking the former with a pin, implying that Tatterfell has done it before, which is still physical abuse. It doesn't prevent her from being drugged and danced around against her will at 11, and it doesn't stop her from being bullied by Cardan and Co.

Now moving onto Percy and Sophie-they had amazing support systems. Percy had Camp Half Blood. He was Poseidon's son, a Big Three Kid, and they're practically worshipped. He had so many friends at camp. He had Chiron and his mom Sally, who was an AMAZING parental figure. And then Percy had Paul. Percy also had Poseidon at times, though the latter rarely showed up-he still helped Percy quite a lot. Percy also had the gods. Artemis and Apollo helped him. Aphrodite helped him. Poseidon helped him. Dionysus helped him. Hestia helped him. Hera guided them through the labyrinth and made Percy's arrow fly perfectly. Hephaestus helps him too. The majority of the Olympian council has helped Percy, and without their help, he'd be nowhere. He also has magic, insane magic powers and he's pretty magically powerful, which Jude is not. She doesn't have any magic-the closest thing she has to it is the geas that makes her immune to glamours, and that Prince Dain placed on her when she asked him to. Percy is basically a Chosen One after all the other Big Three kids (Thalia-huntress, Bianca-dead and Nico-too young) are pushed out.

Sophie also has a great support system. She's got many parental and trusted authority figures-Elwin, Alden, Grady, Edaline and Della. She also has her friend circle-Keefe, Fitz, Biana, Dex, Wylie, Marella, Linh, Tam-which rapidly expands and the support of the Black Swan. AND she has powerful magic and is a chosen one like Percy. Something else that Jude doesn't have.

To summarise this, Percy and Sophie had great support systems that they could lean on and they were helped by others quite a lot (especially Percy) whereas Jude mostly helped herself.

JUDE HAS NO GOOD PARENTAL FIGURES OR FRIENDS

Unlike Percy and Sophie, Jude doesn't have healthy parental figures either. But! you say. But she has Madoc! Madoc is not a healthy parental figure.

Jude loves him in an uncomfortable way, yes. He cares about her, yes. He insisted that she be raised like the Gentry Faeries-that she learn swordplay and strategy, wear beautiful gowns and attend Faerie revels. But he still murdered her parents right in front of her eyes when she was a child. He still ran his sword through her and left her out to bleed. He still abandoned her to die when he felt that she was a hindrance. He loves her, yes, and he would do a lot for her, but he is in no way a healthy parental figure. Oriana is not a parental figure to Jude. She's only Oak's mother. Not Jude's, not Taryn's, not Vivienne's. She is, in fact, normally cold and stand offish with them, though she can be helpful at times. Taryn is Jude's closest 'friend' and we know how many times she betrays Jude during the course of the series (Locke and Madoc). Vivienne is perhaps the healthiest relationship that Jude has (besides the Court of Shadows). She's a good sister who has come through plenty of times for Jude when no one else has, supplying her and Taryn with quick magic whenever necessary…… but even she has her limits. First of all, she doesn't want to stay in Elfhame forever. She understandably hates and doesn't want to live with her parents' murderer, but where else can she live in Elfhame? Even if she could live somewhere else, she doesn't want to, and wants to go back to the Mortal Realm. She stays for Jude and Taryn, then leaves for Heather. She is also somewhat selfish and doesn't listen to Jude either. She doesn't help Jude with politics either-Jude is able to trust Vivienne because the latter stays loyal to Jude, but only for so long till she tires and goes back to the Mortal Realm. And this is where I come to the Court of Shadows. Honestly, they're one of my favorite parts of TFOTA. Their relationship with Jude is amazing-BUT, hear me out. I'm talking about Jude for the whole decade that she lived in Elfhame, and she didn't even have the Court of Shadows for a fraction of that time. So yes, they're her best support system, even if The Ghost was under Locke and then Madoc's control for much of the series-and he showed remorse afterwards and apologised. Even if the Bomb tried to kill Jude because the former understandably thought that the latter was trying to kill Cardan-and she showed remorse afterwards and apologized. And there's no time when the Roach actively tries to harm Jude. Yeah, I love these guys' dynamic so much, I'd read a whole book on them. (Honorable mention for Fand here-while she was not Jude's friend, she was friendly with her and was Jude's first personal guard as Queen).

To summarise this paragraph, Jude didn't have a good support system her whole 10 years-Madoc's protection didn't always protect her, Taryn is self-explanatory and Vivienne could be selfish and had her limits as well. Except at the very end when Jude joined the Court of Shadows.

PERCY AND SOPHIE WERE CHOSEN ONES

Percy and Sophie were also 'Chosen Ones'. Percy was the prophecy kid, the Savior of Olympus, and Sophie is the Black Swan's weapon. Jude is not a Chosen One-being a mortal in Faerie, she's quite the opposite. She's simultaneously at a high rung of a ladder due to being Madoc's ward and at a low rung, due to being a human among faeries. She never had any magical powers and was at a severe disadvantage due to this for most of her time in Elfhame until Dain gave her the geas.

To summarise this paragraph-Percy and Sophie were magically powerful 'chosen ones', something Jude was most definitely not-in fact, she was the opposite until she got Dain's geas.

Percy and Sophie were already at the top of the ladder-they only had to climb a few rungs, while Jude was quite lower than they were, though not at the very bottom, and she had to climb a whole lot more than they did.

These facts make Jude a more compelling protagonist than Percy or Sophie to some people.

TO CONCLUDE Now, I'm not trying to bash Percy or Sophie here-Jude had 10 years in Elfhame while Sophie barely has 3 years in the Lost Cities and Percy only has 2-3 years of training his powers. There's a difference between the appeal of Jude versus Percy and Sophie-the first one's appeal is a powerless person rising to power and the second appeal is being a powerful person, an important chosen one, and having people admire and look up to you. Both can appeal to different people and the same people. But protagonists like Jude have an appeal that protagonists like Percy and Sophie can never have.

I think Jude is somewhat like Luke-ruthless and willing to do anything to ensure her loved ones' safety, including killing. She also rebels against the system like Luke and changes part of it by breaking the mold to fit herself in there. I'm not sure whom she's like from KOTLC, but if I had to pick a person, I'd pick either Forkle or Fintan-ruthless, morally grey, willing to do a lot to break the system and get accepted.

Though she is WAYYYYYYY morally better than them-a lighter shade of gray, if you will. She would never kidnap and torture a bunch of children for information and she'd never leave them to find their own way home when the chances are quite low.

I also think, that if the circumstances mandated it, Percy could be as ruthless as Jude if required. I'm not quite sure about Sophie, due to the whole elf guilt mental break thing, but I think that she could also be ruthless like Jude if she can convince herself that it's for the greater good and her loved ones.

Whew, this might be my masterpiece post. Well, if you have any counter arguments, then feel free to post them. I might edit this, so don't be surprised if it changes.

@the-way-astray I know you've read both KOTLC, PJO and TFOTA, so here you go. In return for your amazing Keefe Sencen analysis, this is my somewhat meagre gift to you :)

@roseadleyn, I know you like Jude a lot and you've read PJO too-I'm not sure if you've read KOTLC, though

@madockisser, I read your cruel prince posts and really liked your analyses, so I want to tag you here-if you want me to remove it, please say so

@imaginelovewrite, obviously. I hope you like this! Jude and Oriana coming soon

@rosabell14, ok, so I don't know if you've ever read TFOTA or KOTLC, but I thought you might like this analysis. Feel free to tell me to remove you if you want

@lady-menrva

@my-pjo-stuff

@justaneedle

Not sure who else to tag-feel free to tag people if you reblog this!

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little-diable · 11 months ago

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A Losing Game - Professor Aaron Hotchner (Profiling 101 Series, Part 8/?)

Chapter eight, here we go. I hope you enjoy the way this moves into, I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this! Thank y'all for the love on the past chapters! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader enrolls in professor Hotchner's class "Profiling 101", a man she has always looked up to, a man who treats her like an asshole from day one. Will her need for academic validation manage to push the two closer together? Will her bright mind push her into the world of Aaron Hotchner and the BAU team? Will he manage to keep his distance before the world he tries to protect her from can get its grasp on her?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, shower sex, some angst due to the kidnapping, regular CM stuff

Pairing: Professor!Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (2k words)

Profiling 101 Series Masterlist

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Nine

It took her a while to wake, forcing her eyes to stay shut, not daring to give away her awakened mind should she not be alone. With a quiet exhale leaving (y/n), she tried to focus on her other senses, on what she could feel, smell, and hear. But she was surrounded by complete silence, nothing could be heard, no cars, no beeping sounds that could indicate any machines, not even the sound of somebody breathing.

She felt the hard chair she was sitting on pressing against her aching back, her wrists unable to move due to the tape that was burning into her skin, keeping her glued to the chair. Fuck, panic arose in her system, not being able to move made the whole thing even more complicated, unable to fight off whoever had taken her.

It had been too dark inside the SUV to make out the features of her stalker, only his unfamiliar, deep voice had rang in her ears before he had knocked her out. She hadn’t even gotten any time to struggle, face falling forwards against the dark console, swallowed by the darkness within seconds before Aaron could come rescue her.

Aaron – oh god, Aaron. (Y/n) knew that he’d blame himself for letting her out of his sight, leaving her side for just a minute too long. Had he seen her stalker drive the car away from the BAU? Or had he thought that she had driven off on her own? No, he knew what had happened, they were already looking for her – they had to be.

Chills ran down her spine, a sensation so strong, (y/n) could no longer keep her eyes closed. She had to blink a few times to adjust to her dark surroundings. The room was small, looking like a prison cell, with only her chair, a table, and a small lamp that barely managed to alight even half of the room.

Where the hell was she?

Her gaze flickered down to the black tape that had been wrapped around her wrists, glueing her to the chair. With a huff breaking through (y/n), she tried to tug on her restraints, knowing that she’d eventually be able to break free if she’d get enough time to find her strength. Her body felt weak, leaving her to wonder how long it had been since her stalker had gotten his hands on her.

Fuck, she had been careless, in retrospect she should have been all too aware of the dangers lurking outside. She couldn’t help but curse herself for leaving Aaron’s side, for declining Derek’s offer, she would have been safe with them around. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

(Y/n) didn’t get any more time to curse her stupid actions, eyes flickering to the door which was pushed open. The man who stared at her looked unfamiliar, a stranger she hadn’t ever crossed paths with before – at least not willingly. She wasn’t sure if she should feel relieved that he was a stranger, or scared, unable to tell what he’d do to her.

“Well, finally, sweetheart, you had me worried.” He wasn’t much taller than she was, with brown hair slicked back, and dark eyes hidden behind round glasses. The guy must have been in his mid-twenties, a lanky figure she could take down in a fight if she’d only get the chance to. “Now, don’t look at me like that, I warned you, didn’t I? You should have been a good girl, should have listened to my warnings, to the rules, but you’ve never been good at doing that, huh? Of course not, you’re sleeping with your professor after all.

A humourless laugh left the man, dripping with jealousy and hatred. Fear thumped through her veins as he took a step closer, forcing her to part her lips to flush some water down her throat. Perhaps she could use his anger to her advantage, perhaps she could try to rile him up just enough to force him to cut her restraints – she’d only need one chance to fight her way out of this.

“Who are you?” Her voice was monotone, not dripping with anything that could give away her fear, the uneasiness she was held hostage by. She kept her eyes on him, not daring to look away even for one second.

“That’s not important right now, darling. What counts is that I’ve got you here with me, and well, I’ll need to thank the lovely Penelope Garcia for that. She helped me get you after all.”

……

“Hotch, c’mon man, at least sit down for a few minutes. We’ll get your girl.” Aaron’s coffee-coloured eyes met Derek’s wide ones, letting go of an exhausted huff as he slowly sat down on the chair. It has been over six hours since (y/n) had been taken, forced to watch the video over and over again, watching how a masked figure had broken into the SUV, how (y/n) had stepped into the car all too obliviously, and how the SUV had hastily left the parking lot moments later.

“Alright, so we can rule out Lorey, we can rule out her family,” Emily repeated what they had put together hours ago, letting go of a defeated huff.

“So, we have nothing.” Aaron let go of another sigh, eyes momentarily squeezed shut to try and collect himself. This is what he had been fearing all this time, after losing Haley Aaron had known that he needed to be even more careful, that he couldn’t take any risks, for his sake and Jack’s.

“Garcia, anything you could pick up on the CCTV feed?” His dark eyes snapped towards Penelope, studying her tired features, not used to seeing her this quiet. She kept her teary eyes focused on the screen, not replying verbally, only shaking her head. With Derek’s hand placed on Peleope’s shoulder, they found themselves engulfed by silence. A silence that left their insides churning, knowing that time was working against them.

……

She helped me get you after all. She helped me get you after all. She helped me get you after all.

Bile rose in (y/n)’s throat as his words kept ringing in her ears. Penelope? It couldn’t be, not the one she had instantly clicked with. It couldn’t be, not the sunshine that had brightened the darkness she had been trapped in. It couldn’t be, it simply couldn’t be.

She needed to distract herself, needed to get a grip before she’d spiral. Her thoughts brought her back to Aaron, how he had touched her only hours ago, in the early morning, pressed against the dark shower tiles.

“Hold on to me, I’ve got you, baby.” Aaron’s raspy voice left her gasping, choking on the moans he forced from her. He had her pinned against the wall, hands holding her up as she slung her legs around his waist. With their eyes holding contact, he pushed into her, making them moan in unison.

Their hearts were racing, minds silenced by the intense sensations washing through them. She wondered if she’d ever get used to feeling him this close, deep inside of her, pressing against her stomach.

Aaron fucked her without holding back, his thrusts were fast, rough, and calculated, knowing that they couldn’t waste any time in the morning. The open-mouthed kiss they shared managed to swallow some of their sounds, leaving them clinging to one another.

“Fuck, Aaron, I can’t.” Her pulsing bundle was overstimulated from the two orgasms he had pushed through her only minutes ago, pressed to the mattress with his face buried between her thighs. No man had ever managed to make her cum this fast, this hard, an insatiable need that guided the two of them on.

“You can, and you will, baby.” His voice dropped with possessiveness, a dark touch that left her toes curling. Fuck, (y/n) knew that she was close already, once again letting go with a moan clawing through her without another warning.

Aaron kept fucking her, chasing his own high with his eyebrows furrowed together and his fingers digging into the flesh of her ass. She could tell that he was about to cum, pulling out of her at the last second, watching his cum paint her lower stomach.

Fuck, she needed to get back to Aaron, to touch him again, to feel him again, to speak to him again. She had waited too long to finally be with him, and nobody could take that from her, and especially not her stalker.

As if the man had heard her thoughts, he waltzed back into the room with a smug grin glued to his lips. He wore a suit, trying to come off as sophisticated, as if he was just another normal guy, not the sick and twisted bastard who was holding her hostage. Only as he placed her breakfast down for her did (y/n)'s eyes focus on the badge dangling from his neck, clearly stating that he was working for the FBI.

The FBI? Had he been that close the whole time?

“It’s time for me to go to work, I was called in earlier because the oh-so-valuable assistant team member of the BAU is missing. Of course, they won’t find her, especially not since I’ll be the one supporting them.” The smirk he wore on his thin lips left (y/n) choking on her angry gasps, trying to keep quiet. He wanted to get a reaction out of her, wanted to rile her up – but (y/n) wouldn’t give in, she couldn’t. “You should eat something while I’m gone. And there’s a bucket for you, I’m sure you’ll eventually need the toilet.”

“Cut me loose, asshole, otherwise I won’t be able to reach the food or the bucket.” A raspy laugh left the guy, slowly stalking closer to (y/n). His breath fanned her skin, leaving her covered in goosebumps, torn between disgust and fear.

“You’re a smart girl, (y/n), I’m sure you’ll figure something out. I’ll see you tonight, babe.”

……

“Guys, this is Kacey, he’s from the Tech Department, he’s one of the best down there, I thought it’d be good for Penelope to have some extra help.” JJ’s voice echoed through the room, she shot Kacey a grateful smile as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Hi guys, it’s good to finally meet the rest of you, Penelope always speaks so highly of you. I’ll do anything to help you find her, I promise.” He nodded at the team before he was pulled in for a tight hug by Penelope. She and Kacey had crossed paths a while ago, spending some time in her office together as they talked about shared interests, making plans to go out with their friends together, and building a friendship she deeply cherished.

“Thank you, we’ve got no time to lose, it’s been over twelve hours by now.” Aaron’s voice was emotionless, no longer dripping with the fear he had shown his team, no longer appearing vulnerable in front of a man who was a stranger to him. “Garcia, you two will keep on following the unsub on the feed, the rest of us will go back to (y/n)’s apartment, we’ll comb through it again, and see if we missed something.”

“You found him on the feed?” Neither Penelope nor the others seemed to pick up on the surprise filling every word that rolled off Kacey’s tongue, eyebrows furrowed.

“I did! He thought he was sneaky, but he missed a few cameras, it’s not much, but maybe we can eventually trace him back to his work, his car, or even his home." Penelope shot Aaron a hopeful smile, clinging to the smallest detail. "Thank you for helping us, really, I know if somebody can push us in the right direction, it’ll be you, Kacey.”

.……

Sweat was pooling on (y/n)’s forehead, lips bloody from the way she had pierced her teeth into the thin skin. She had lost count of the amount of tries she had used to free her aching wrists, without any luck so far.

“Fuck, c’mon!" Tears dripped down her cheeks and a deep, shaky exhale left her, trying to keep herself somewhat collected. With another breath inhaled into her burning lungs, (y/n) collected all her strength to try and rip her wrists free. One last try. It took her a second to realise that she had managed to break through the layers of tape on her left wrist, having to shake her numb fingers a few times before she could free her other wrist.

She’d get out of here, for the sake of herself, for the sake of Aaron.

#Aaron Hotchner imagine #profiling 101 #Aaron Hotchner x reader #Aaron Hotchner smut #criminal minds imagine

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perpetualexistence · 7 months ago

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Sea Monster AU: Agony of a Sea Witch

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It sure has been a while since I've made a post for this AU, hasn't it? I know I said I would get this done in time for Mermay. But it's only technically two days away, so I consider this to be Mermay in my heart. That and it's Pride month so now this is just my contribution of incredibly toxic yaoi to Pride month!

What's with the song choice you might ask? And the title? Don't worry about it. Noah'll be fine. Probably.

But yeah this is like 3.5K words so I hope you guys enjoy my blood sacrifice Sea Monster AU update!

Content warnings: Murder mentions, toxic relationship, Alejandro being manipulative as per usual

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With his new body comes new risks. He can't afford to have his legs suddenly turn into tentacles on land. It'd be even worse if they transformed in front of Alejandro. So he's not leaving this cove until he's convinced he can leave it without instantly outing himself.

He starts with turning his legs to tentacles and back. A lot of it has to do with wanting them to transform. Which is good because otherwise this would be a pain.

As the adrenaline fades away, he's more cognizant of how weird it is to feel each leg split into four separate limbs, and then come together again. He shudders at the sensation, but over time he gets used to it.

It takes him all night until he's finally comfortable enough to make his way back home. He sneaks back in at one point only to be caught by an older sibling. They express their concerns about his recent behavior. He manages to get them off his back for now, but they're clearly still worried.

It's summer break at this point, so Noah has plenty of time to learn more magic. He lies to his family about taking summer classes so they don't question his time away. He tells the same lie to Alejandro so that Alejandro doesn't insist the two spend more time together.

That lie he's much more worried about. Not only because Alejandro is more volatile, but also because he knows that Alejandro is going to ask him about how his revenge went.

The intent lie Alejandro believes, so he won't have to explain why he did it. But he'll have to lie about how much he enjoyed it to cater to Alejandro.

Except it doesn't really feel like a lie. Because there's a part of Noah that knows he did rather enjoy it. When his mother asked him whether he was getting a job over the summer or staying at school, he almost admitted right there that he wouldn't need to get a job. Their biggest money problem is gone.

Noah has been considering a lot of people 'problems' now. It's easier to feed a problem to a ravenous sea creature than a person. He knows, on a logical level, that this is wrong and is a very concerning line of thought. But he's been through so much that he feels like he's done more than enough to earn it.

When he goes to talk with Alejandro, the large eel does pick up on his hesitation in taking pride in his kill. He's...surprisingly sympathetic towards Noah's reluctance. He admits that doing it in cold blood for the first time hits a lot harder than simply watching it. It's not something for the faint of heart.

It's why Alejandro was so happy that Noah was willing to try it out. Once you get over the morality of it, it's such a delightful, vindicating experience. Alejandro would love to be there one day to witness Noah finally let loose. Noah deserves it, truly. However, Alejandro won't force it. He's not that crude. If Noah does want to go further down the path of might then Alejandro will be happy to guide him along. Until then, Noah can take his time with it.

Noah leaves that conversation with zero suspicions from Alejandro, but so many questions. The way Alejandro phrased it was oddly sweet and felt like an earnest attempt to comfort him. But it was still encouraging murder. Even if it was arguably justified. And satisfying.

At least it made it clear that shrinking Alejandro was the only way to go. Once he was less dangerous, Noah could figure out what to do with him after.

But first of all he's got to figure out this new body of his. Knowing how to switch between human to cecaelia won't mean anything if his new tentacles keep slapping him in the face every time he tries to use them. Or using suckers to attach onto rocks when he did not mean for them to get adhesive. The retractable fangs are rather annoying since he keeps cutting his tongue with them. Not to mention the excessive amount of saliva that seems to come with it.

The most difficult part is learning how to operate eight lower limbs instead of two. It's also the most exhausting. Chef's training had done little to improve his endurance. Even worse since he's underwater where his whole body feels sluggish.

Slowly but surely, he starts getting better at swimming with his tentacles. He doesn't have the finest control over them, but he can swim with them and go in the direction he actually wants to go in. He isn't sticking to everything he touches with his tentacles, either. He considers that progress.

He'd still like to know how being an octopus was supposed to protect him from a giant electric eel. Sure, he can swim better now. That doesn't do much against someone who can easily outpace him. Or just zap him.

He knows the basics about octopi. He knows they can make ink clouds to confuse their enemies. Which might work for about five seconds until Alejandro goes around the small cloud. The more useful thing is the ability to camouflage. It'd only work when standing still. But if the ritual to shrink Alejandro means he has to go out to open waters, he NEEDS a way to hide himself. He wouldn't be able to afford Alejandro catching him collecting something, or worse, with tentacles.

Through trial and error, Noah finds out that his whole body can go invisible, not just his tentacles. All the better for him. He anchors his ability to camouflage with his desire to disappear. It's an easy feeling to pull up. He usually wants to stay out of most interactions, and his desire to get away from all of this is enough to get him invisible. The harder part is stopping it. Because it means letting go of the feeling. Noah can't really calm down to let go of it because Alejandro has him on high alert at all times. He just forces himself to think of something else, and it works.

All of this is just taking more time away from preparing the ritual. He hasn't even had the chance to read over it properly. He very badly wants to jump the gun, but that'll risk getting caught in a body he can barely control. But being unprepared for the ritual, and the lives it'll probably require given this book's track record so far, is also a huge risk. And during all of this, he's still going on hunts with Alejandro. Risks all around, and Noah feels like he's this close to snapping completely when he's pulled in different directions.

So when Owen sends him a text asking if he wants to hang out over the summer? You know what? Sure. Why not?

Noah deserves a distraction from all the things he's putting himself through. Is this distraction also risky? Yes. But it's not as if he's going to go out in the water with Owen. There's plenty to do in this incredibly isolated town that only advertises its incredibly visible beaches with the extrovert who has constantly been inviting him to going to another yacht party in Alejandro's hunting grounds.

God Owen would be so screwed if Noah wasn't setting up Alejandro's menu.

At least Owen doesn't push so much into what's going on in Noah's life once Noah makes it clear that's not happening. It's nice to actually have the ability to say no. Not the illusion of choice Alejandro brings. It's easier to forget all the things he's done when the most he has to worry with Owen is avoiding a nose milkshake.

Well, there is the fact that Owen is also still insisting on Noah coming along to group hangouts. More people means more lies and more suspicion. But it also means more chance to be in the background conversation. Not do anything.

Noah misses not having to do anything. So against his better judgement, he says yes.

He lets himself get swept into the hurricane that is Owen, Eva, and Izzy. He appreciates Eva not asking any questions from him and just letting him exist. Plus watching her go off on people is fun. Izzy, for all the rabid energy she brings, is more than happy to make all the choices for what they're going to do. He's more than happy to just let her. Owen's both enabling all the chaos and making sure everyone's doing great. He doesn't question Noah wearing a scarf during the humid, sweltering summer. He just scoops Noah up when the heat exhaustion starts getting to him.

And Noah? He's just there. There's no expectations that he does anything. He snarks and they don't complain about his personality.

It's such a nice break from all the murder and deceit. It takes away from the time he could be spending to solve this problem. But if he doesn't give himself this he's pretty sure something's going to snap inside of him. So he fits it in between the magic and the hunting and the hanging out with Alejandro that the eel still insists on.

Hanging out with Alejandro does make hunting more bearable. And Alejandro more bearable. Alejandro still enjoys reading with Noah and bringing him smaller treasures.

Still, now that Noah's started to hang out with other people, he can how conditional spending time with Alejandro is. There's a stark contrast between being with people who could kill you on accident with their shenanigans, and being with someone who would kill you on purpose for trying to pull shenanigans.

It nags at him. Constantly. He doesn't want it to. He wants to relax for once in his life. He can't have that with Alejandro like this. He needs to stop distracting himself. No matter the cost, he has to go through with this. He's done too much now. He just has to keep playing this game a little longer.

He doesn't realize Alejandro's picked up on anything until they're on their way back from a hunt.

The conversation started off simple enough. Noah was making snarks about the people Alejandro had thrown into his gullet. They were long past having any sanctity for the dead.

Alejandro was pushing the boat that was carrying Noah along...and then he began to slow to a stop. They were nowhere near the shoreline. It was just open waters.

Noah asks what's going on. He's trying to sound as casual as possible. Maybe if he keeps faking it, he'll actually begin to calm down.

Alejandro promises it's nothing major, really. It's about a few things that have been bothering him, that's all. He's noticed some new things about Noah.

At first Alejandro thought they were great changes. He does find Noah's scarf cute, and he's very fond of Noah's new interest in Alejandro's passions.

But he's also noticed that their conversations have started to become more awkward. Like Noah isn't completely there for the conversation. He's just curious about what could be on Noah's mind.

Noah's immediately concerned as he now has to come up for an answer for this. It's just him thinking about school, that's all! And the whole murder thing! Giving that serious thought. That's the only thing on his mind.

Alejandro smiles at Noah. He wants to believe Noah. He does. But there's one other thing that's bothering him.

Noah's scent.

The day after Noah came back from his first kill, there was something new to it. Something charged. And salty?

It's very strange. Alejandro was willing to be patient for an answer from Noah. To an extent. The real problem, though, are the newest scents on Noah. They're all human scents. From different people.

Noah would have to be especially close with these humans for an especially long time for their scents to intermingle. Yet Noah hasn't mentioned anything about other humans. Given what happened the last time Noah was getting close with other humans, Alejandro is very interested in knowing what explanation Noah has for this.

Noah knew he shouldn't have let Owen bear hug him so much. Or let Eva carry him around no matter how convenient it was. Or let Izzy constantly invade his personal space. Even though the only way that he could have stopped any of them would have been not to be near them at all.

This was on him, really. For letting himself get distracted. Now he has to figure out what to tell Alejandro. If he tells the truth, he'll be dooming his friends. Alejandro will force him to make an impossible choice. It's what he always does.

He's racking his brain for something, anything to get him out of this mess. Alejandro is waiting for an answer. He does not want to be in this situation. He would give anything to get out of this situation. To just disappear.

"Que es esto?"

Noah looks up to see Alejandro looking down at him. There's some mix of confusion, horror, and anger in his eyes. It's worrying since Noah hasn't given a response yet. His eyes are also darting around Noah. Around?

Noah brings his gaze back down to the boat to figure out what Alejandro is looking at.

Then he looks down to realize that on instinct, he's camouflaged with the ship.

Oh.

No.

Noah's body acts before he can think twice about it. He jumps into the water. Staying on that boat would be a death sentence. At least this way he has a chance at getting away and figuring out SOMETHING.

He knows Alejandro is calling for him and he doesn't care. He's never transformed while invisible and he doesn't want to take any chances now. He's barely gotten any distance until he feels the hairs on his arms raise.

Invisibility means nothing to electrolocation.

Noah is grabbed and is pushed away from the surface. Noah lets out a shout as air bubbles escape him. He switches to using his gills since Alejandro wouldn't notice those anyways. He has a clear view of the fury on Alejandro's face as they swim deeper.

Alejandro demands an answer NOW. He won't return Noah to the surface until Noah shows himself and agrees to explain. Alejandro will keep him here until he drowns if he must. Because he needs to know how Noah knows magic.

Noah thrashes as he tries to get out of Alejandro's vice-like grip. Alejandro doesn't know about the gills, but he'll figure it out eventually. The most he can do is buy himself some time. He's terrible with coming up with plans on the spot but he's got no choice to learn through trial by fire.

He refuses to respond. Speaking would expose his gills. He can hide somewhere and wait Alejandro out if Alejandro thinks he needs to go to the surface for air.

Alejandro is still demanding an answer. How does Noah know magic? That would explain the new scent, but not where Noah got it from. Alejandro has scoured these waters thoroughly. He's the only sea creature here.

So how? And why? They've been having such a good time together. Alejandro didn't even know he could enjoy spending time with a human. Yet he waited with bated breath for Noah's visits. He had been looking for every excuse to keep Noah alive when he fully recovered from his journey here.

Then, when Noah suggested these hunts-

"What?" Noah asked. Holding his cards to his chest be damned. He could NOT let Alejandro try to make Noah out to be the bad guy.

"When you suggested the hunts." Alejandro repeated. He seemed too agitated to even notice that Noah shouldn't be able to speak underwater.

"I didn't suggest them! I never asked for this! You made it clear it was help you or die!"

"I never said you had to help me. I only said you had to give me a reason to let you live."

And no. No, that's not how that worked. That can't have been how that worked. Noah can remember the threat on his life.

"You made the offer to help me hunt all on your own. You could've offered only to spread my legacy and I would've accepted it. You chose to be just as vicious as me. And I was so delighted that you chose me over your own kind."

That's not how that happened. Because if it was, then Noah could have avoided all of this. If it was, then Noah might have been able to reason with Alejandro from the beginning. Noah wouldn't have any blood on his hands. He would still be a good person. Instead of whatever he is now.

It takes more effort than he dares to admit to keep his voice flat. "If it was a choice this whole time, then why didn't you tell me?"

Alejandro paused for a moment. He looked like he wanted to search for Noah's expression. There was none to give with the camouflage. "I thought you'd be happier this way."

How dare Alejandro? How dare Alejandro?

He can't stack the cards against Noah and then blame Noah for not playing the game right. He can't say Noah could have communicated better when he was the one who made Noah feel as if he couldn't say anything at all.

Months of pent up aggravation are bubbling to the surface. He wants Alejandro to hurt. He wants Alejandro to bleed. It's the only way this monster will understand the extent of what he's done to Noah.

Noah feels the transformation happen, and he welcomes it. He's revealed as legs become tentacles. The blue rings on his tentacles glow bright and fierce. He can feel Alejandro struggle to re-adjust his grip. Alejandro is transfixed by the glowing rings. Good.

He uses his tentacles to push at Alejandro's hand to give him room to escape the grip. It's working somewhat. It gives him enough room to sink fangs deep into Alejandro's finger. This was for every time the damnable thing had ruffled his hair. Every time he was given a playful pet or a light jab. Every agonizing moment of patronizing.

He can taste when he pierces through the skin. He keeps going. As hard as he can. Noah's saliva is pouring into the open wound. It's small, but it's something.

Alejandro shouts in pain but doesn't let go. Noah can see the water around Alejandro's tail crackling with frustrated electricity.

Then, Alejandro's grip loosens. Noah bursts out of it. Finally, his sacrifice was good for SOMETHING. He tries to swim away from Alejandro's range.

Alejandro uses the same hand as before to block Noah's escape and bring him back to face the merfolk. Noah is expecting to be squeezed again and tries to get off of Alejandro's palm before it happens.

He does escape. Alejandro's hand closes around where Noah had just been a couple of seconds ago. Alejandro looks...confused. His hand is trembling. He reaches for Noah again, but the hand is slower this time. Much easier to avoid.

"What...what did you do to me?" Alejandro asked.

Noah's rage is marred with confusion. Alejandro's arm slowly falls to the side. Limp.

That's when it clicks for Noah. He'd never looked up the exact species of octopus he was. He'd been far too preoccupied with other matters, and he thought it would never come up. Yet here he was, with glowing blue rings and a bite chockfull of saliva.

Except it was never saliva. It was venom. And now they're both finding out how deadly Noah had made himself.

The fear in Alejandro's eyes is satisfying. Noah's finally managed to turn the tables on him. Even if he never wanted it like this. The plan had never been to kill Alejandro. Just to contain him. Alejandro would have killed him if he thought he had to. So whatever's about to happen is just going to happen.

So long as he keeps telling himself this, he can ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

He can't ignore the gray mass of flesh barreling towards him.

Of course.

Noah should have realized it was always going to end like this. He's not going to be fast enough to outswim that tail. He's been martyring himself this whole time. Might as well go all the way. At least the few people he cares about will be safe from his stupid, horrible mistake.

His last thought is wondering if there ever was a way this could have ended differently.

The tail hits him. Electricity courses through his body.

He screams, and it goes dark.

(For all of you curious, Noah's a blue-ringed octopus! I would have shared a picture earlier, but I didn't want to spoil the surprise in case you knew about it already. Here is a lovely little picture of an incredibly deadly octopus the size of a golfball that can kill a human in minutes!

#sea monster au #total drama au #total drama #total drama noah #td noah #total drama alejandro #td alejandro #td alenoah #total drama alenoah #alenoah #giant/tiny #noah td #alejandro burromuerto #horror au #tw toxic relationship #cw toxic relationship #total drama horror au #td horror au

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my-brain-soup · 4 months ago

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I've Never Seen Luka, But Jon Kent Has

Basically I've never watched Luka but I read a fanfic where Jon gets the teen titans to watch it (parallels are drawn between Luca and Alberto and Jon and Damian) so now I will be watching it and writing the thoughts I have during it

No I will not give context and spoiler warning ig

Love the music during the studio logos

We love a superstitious king, I mean, I have a feeling he has a point

IF THEY HIT HIM IMMA BE SO PISSED

Awww, he's such a polite little guy

Luca is a farm boy!!! I love my little Jon Kent varient :)

I, too, would risk my life for shiny object

I, too, do the murder

OMG THEIR SO JON AND DAMIAN BUT LIKE BEING HUMAN IS BEING A VIGILANTE AND ITS THE SAME AS THEIR START BASICALLY I LOVE THEM

HE EVEN HAS THE SUPERMAN CURL

Dami would say he invented walking

And pretend he's not proud of Jon

THEYRE SO CUTESY

Bruno? Or Bruce...o... you get the idea

Sorry, they have Luca grab Alberto like that and expect me not to see them as the most adorable little guy love story? Their so crushing on each other

"You're so lucky your dad lets you do what you want," cue Superman's comment about Bruce getting hit on the head all the time

NO WAY THEIR SENDING HIM TO (basically) BOARDING SCHOOL TO KEEP HIM AWAY FROM THE "bad influence" THAT IS ALBERTO

Yes! Grandma, my queen!

"We can do anything" I love this movie

MY FRIEND SMELLS AMAZING

God I don't know her name yet but I love her

JULIA OR HOWEVER YOU SAY IT

We're not telling you our secrets! Tells secrets immediately.

FROM EVERYTHING YOU LOVE?????

I love Alberto so muchhhhhh

I love Mr dad human

Oh they know SOO many fish

No way everyone, including an adult, just saw that bitch rob some kids and didn't do shit

He is a sad little catfish

Why are his parents actually crazy

Aww, Alberto doesn't want to lose his friend

Noooooooo

Luca just wants to learn, and Alberto just wants to feel loved :(

How is the gayest looking dude there being homophobic?

When your new father figue wants to kill your entire species

Alberto got mad when Julia touched Luca's hand...

Why does Luca's hair looks like a croissant

NO LUCA WTF

I WAS ALMOST ON YOUR SIDE

GOD WHAT THE HELL

YES, MR DAD HUMAN, I LOVE YOU PLEASE DONT KILL YOUR NEW SON

FUCK.

IM NOT CRYING.

Nooooo

Their fort :(

BESTIE NO

NO ALBERTO MY BABY NO

STOP PUSHING PEOPLE AWAY SO YOU DONT GET HURT. IT'S NOT GONNA WORK

God the organizer adult lady us such a bitch

Why is no one concerned that the scuba kid isn't coming up for air?

Aww, his little clap self tap in

It's totally about to rain

Well shit. Sometimes I hate when I'm right

WAIT WAS THAT ALBERTO

I TAKE IT BACK I LOVE WHEN IM RIGHT

FUCK

NO I TAKE IT BACK AGAIN

I love them so much!!!!

MR DAD HUMAN NO

MR DAD HUMAN YES

YAYYYY

KING

Is the mom the same person that voiced Aunt Cass in big hero 6?

YES LOVE ME THE OLD LADIES

I decided it is a metaphor for older lgbtq people, feeling able to come out after younger generations have proved that times have changed, I love them

(They're sisters, so they're not together, but they can still be gay!)

BRO ITS SO ABOUT BEING GAY I LOVE THIS MOVIE

BRO ALBERTO

THOSE LITTLE LOOKS

YOU'RE NOT FOOLING ANYONE

JULIA 100% KNOWS

About his crush, not just Luca going to school

AHHHH HES SO SWEET

YES, MR DAD HUMAN, YOU NEED EACH OTHER

Their in love, your honor

THEIR LITTLE HAND HOLDING THING I CANT

IM SO MENTALLY ILL FOR GAY FISH

IM CRYING AGAIN

AHHH, THEY RIGHT EACH OTHER LETTERS

ALBERTO LOOKS SO SMITTEN WHEN THEY'RE ON THE PHONE

ALBERTO GETS HIS KNIFE

DOES HE BECOME A LIFEGAURD???

I love this movie

So much

DAMIAN ALSO HAS A CAT AND JON ALSO HAS A DOG

Also, here is my formal apology, her name is spelled Giulia, my b

Alberto learns to carve wood, awww

Also, does Luca EVER get shoes?

I've decided I need an Alberto to become a tattoo artist future au, at least like on the side or for fun or sm

The dedication is adorable

Yes, I just watched all of the credits. What about it?

I was rewarded with an after credits scene, so fuck you.

I'm gonna watch all the deleted scenes now, I'm not gonna specify which one so have fun guessing

Haha, they called Alberto and Luca the main relationship

BOO STOP TRYING TO GIVE LUCA A CRUSH ON GIULIA

YES ALBERTO CHEER ON THE KRAKEN AGAINST THE HUNTER

YES! CONFORMED LUCA A GIULIA ONLY PLATONIC

Also, she was almost a photographer, like TIM DRAKE?!?!?

Don't worry, Luca, I'll ride in a barrel lit on fire down a hill with you

Awww, they were raised by a lobsterrr

BRING BACK CANNED SEA MONSTER FACTORY

OH SEA MONSTER CAN PASS BUT IF THEIR FOUND OUT THE CONSEQUENCES MIGHT BE REALKY DIRE??? SOUNDS KINDA GAY TO ME.

Oh, Jon is extremely charming

I love how they used different animation styles (in how they had the characters move) on land and in the water

PH THE TRANSFORMATION ISN'T CELEBRATED IN LUCAS FAMILY AND HE MAKES IT A CONSIOUS DEASITION TO CHANGE HIS THINKING FROM I SHOULDNT DO THIS TO I SHOULD EMBRASE THIS? SOUNDS KINDA GAY TO ME

Bro, not the first version where Alberto outs Luca to Giulia, eek

And finally, Ciao Alberto!

Aww, Luca wants to see to Portorosso!

THE GAY OLD LADY SISTERS ARE DEFINITELY CLOSE WITH ALBERTO, AND I LOVE IT FOR ALL OF THEM

He finally has people who care about him!!!

AWW ALBERTO JUST WANTS MR DAD HUMAN TO BE PROUD OF HIM

Alberto, you do NOT got this

DONT LIGHT THE BOAT ON FIRE

OH SHIT

Noooo!!! Don't leave!!!

YOU'RE NOT HIS EMPLOYEE, YOU'RE HIS SON

HE CALLED HIM DAD!!!

YAY HUGS

I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

MY HEART

I CANT

I love Alberto being an artist (a bad one, for now, but still and artist)

Okay, that's it, Ciao :)

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colesluvr · 2 years ago

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REQ: Heyy :]I don't know if you still accept requests, but maybe could you write a GN!reader × Lloyd? Like Lloyd had been busy lately and it's the readers birthday but he forgets? I leave your imagination the rest of it, but please let it end in Fluff cause one more Lloyd angst oneshot from ANYTHING and i will break LMAOOO

Birthday Surpise: Lloyd Garmadon x GN Reader

HII TYSM FOR THIS REQUEST, THIS WAS ACTUALLY RLY FUN TO WRITE! I HOPE YALL ENJOY <3

TO ALL MY OTHER ANONS WHO REQ'D: i have not forgotten about the rest of you, yall are coming up next 🫶

keys:

B/D : birthday day (monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday, friday, saturday, sunday)

"Lloyd?" You called out to yourboyfriend who was training out by the courtyard. He seemed foucsed because he never noticed your presence. He aims the tip of his sword to the neck of the dummy he was currently training with.

You stood on the side of the courtyard, slowly moving around to face Lloyd from a distance.

"Lloyd?" You once again called, and this time your eyes caught a glimpse of a energy blast zoom it's way toward you. You reflexed fast and dodged it, the blast hitting the wall leaving a burnt mark.

"Y/N?"

Lloyd called out, running up to you as you stood up, rubbing your arm. "Are you crazy?"

"Sorry," Lloyd awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, "I-I didn't think anyone would be up this hour." He was right. The time was 7am. Everyone else is probably still asleep, or awake up in their rooms doing whatever.

"Sure, but you could've done much worse then make a burnt mark on the wall."

Lloyd aplogized once again, checked for wounds, and went back to the middle of the courtyard to countine training.

"Lloyd?"

"Hm?" He replied, landing a hit on the dummy.

"Well," You began, "I was thinking about something."

He nod, telling you keep talking. You stepped down on the rocky path and made your way toward him as you spoke, "I was wondering if you wanted to hang out with me today! Y'know, because it's nice and early and your already awake?"

Lloyd paused to look at you, "I'm sure, but not for long. I've been sloopy durning training sessions with the others. Trying to get better, but I'm sure we can get an hour in together.

"Just one hour?"

Will that be enough time?

"I mean, yeah, why not. I'm sorry babe,but I really gotta focus today."

You took a miunte to think, "Lloyd, do you know what today is?"

Lloyd slammed the dummy to the floor, it bouncing back up in less then 2 seconds and paused to think, "Uhm. B/D?"

You waited to see if he'll continue, but he didn't.

"Yes, but what's special about this day?"

"Y/N, what are you talking about? It's a normal B/D. Look, I'm pretty busy right now, how about we plan tomorrow? I'll take you to your favorite-"

"Forget it." You waved off the ninja, making you way back inside in the Monestary. Lloyd raised an eyebrow, but shugged off your sudden outburts.

Inside the Monestary, you felt tears begin to build up in your eyes. How could he forget your birthday? Is is Ninja business more importabnt then you? You walked down the hall, trying to cover our mouth to prevent you from sobbing out loud.

Why are you even crying? Its not our fault he forgot, he should be the one feeling your pain.

Sudden;y, you bumped into a figue the walked out of a room. In a panic you wiped your eyes as you made eye contact with the person.

"Zane." You chuckled, "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

"It's quite alright, Y/N. What are you doing up so early?" Zane asked, looking at you. He noticed your eyelids were red but didn't say anything about it until you replied to his question.

"Oh, I-I just said hi to Lloyd, I-I'm heading back to my room."

Before he could say anythin you push by him but pause, "Zane, do you know what today is?"

"Well, of course I do. Happy birthday, Y/N."

You smiled softly, thanking him and returning to your room. He watched as you entered your rooom beside Nya's and Kai's.

It was now later in the morning, around 9AM. Lloyd came back from outside and he was done training for a couple of hours. At least 1 or 2 he told himself.

As he entered the kitchen, he ran into Zane who was finishing up breakfast. "Good morning, Lloyd. Have you finished training?"

Lloyd smieles as he sits at the table, "Yeah. I am." Lloyd soon looked around the room. With the corner of his eye he spots ballons and banners in a supply closet. He tilted his head to the side, "We still have these? I thought we put them away after Nya's birthday last month?" He said as he took a sip of water that Zane placed down for him.

"Well, we did put them away, but I took them back out for Y/N's birthday today-"

The sound of Lloyd spitting water out of his mouth caused Zane to jump slighty, obviously not expecting it. "WHAT?" He basically shouted, wiping his chin. "It's for Y/N's birthday today, I asked Cole to assit me in putting up the banners and Nya and Jay offered to get them presents from all of us. Kai will be in charge blowing up balloons."

Zane spoke, looking over to Lloyd to see panic all over his face. "Lloyd," he started slowly, placing down his cloth and cup he was drying, "You do remember it's Y/N's birthday? Correct?"

Lloyd stared at the table in thought. What the fuck? he asked himseld over and over, How the hell could I forget my own partners birthday?!

"I mean- I-I was distracted by all my ninja training, I-I didn't think-"

Zane gave a sworrowful look as he shook his head. Lloyd grumbled as he slammed his head to the table.

"Oh. Sorry Y/N, I didn;t know you were-" Cole had accdeintly walked in on you in the bathroom, and as he was aplogizing you were quick to move from the mirror nad wipe your eyes. You and him made eye contact and as you prayed he's close the door, he instead opened it slowly, noticing your puffy eyes.

"Y/N? Are you okay? Are you crying?

You shook your head fast, too fast, causing your head to hurt and tears to spill more. "N-No." Your voice cracked as you wiped the tears from your eyes.

Cole didn't know what to do, not until you choked out his name and the tears were more visiable. "Cole..." He immediatly wrapped his arms around you as you cried into his shoulder.

"Oh god, ssh. ssh. It's alright, hey, hey, hey!" He smiles as he sups your ace togethet to get a better look at your face. Your tear stained face caused a frown to form on his face, "Awh, Y/N." He hugged you once and rubbed your back in comfort.

"How-How could he forget?" You spoke.

You and Cole have moved into the hall and back into your room. He got you issues, your stuffed animal, your blanket, anything to make you feel more safe and happy. He rubbed your shoulder as he sat beside you,

"Who forgot?"

"Lloyd!" Your voice squeaked as you coughed out a cry. "How-How could he forget my birthd-day?" You squezzed your stuffed animal as Cole paused to think.

Suddenly, he started to chuckle and you snapped your head at him, More tears started to form, and Cole quickly noticed. "Omg, Y/N." Cole handed you a tissue, but still wiped your tears for you. "I thought you meant he forgot something like an aniverrsity, or a graduation."

You cocked your eyebrow at Cole, "Y/N. A lot of people forget birthdays! I do sometimes. Lemme'tell you, when I forgot Jay's birthday he was crying his eyes out. I felt bad, but he didn't take any offence of it."

"But- BUT YOU AND JAY WEREN'T DATING!"

"True, but he forgave me because it was only a one time thing. Tell me, when was the last time Lloyd ever forgot your birthday. Or Kai's birthday? Or even Darreths?!" You looked at him as you were deep in thought.

He was right.

Lloyd never forgot your birthday and even if he would, he would ask someone, no?

You shrugged your shoulders, rubbing the arm of your stuffed toy. Cole smiled, "See. Now, don't let one person who forgot your birthday ruin your entire day. Hae fun, you only turn (A/N) once!" He joked, shaking your arm to egt you to laugh, which much to your liking, did.

"You only turn any age once, dummy."

You and Cole laugh, not hearing the sudden door knock until the door creaked open. You both snap your heads to find Lloyd peeking his head in. Your stomach dropped for a minute, but you remained calm.

"Uh, Y/N. Could I talk to you?"

Cole looked back at you and smiled, you look back at him and slowly smiled back as he stood up after rubbing the top of your hair. He walked by Lloyd anc gave him a pat on the shoulder and a smile.

You placed your legs on your bed to sit criss cross on the mattress. As you didn, Lloyd entered with his hands behind his back. He sat where Cole was perviously before he left.

"Y/N. I-I just wanted to say, I'm sorry. I forgot your birthday and that was a dumb move of me. I'm your boyfriend, and I've already forgotten your birthday, I felt so bad when I remembered. This morning, when you asked me if we wanted to hang out, I was a jerk and set you off for tomorrow. So-So I want to make it up to you, if you'd let me."

You saw him reach into a bag he placed on the bed as he sat down, he took out a small box and handed it to you. You look at him, you could tell he was on edge. So you took the box, taking a moment to open it and when it did you were met with pieces of papers. You took one out and read it."

"Coupon #7 : Movie Night."

You look up at him confused, "I-I don't have any money on me, so I decided t go old-school and make you something, Basically, I made you (A/N) coupons, cause that's how old you are now, and which ever one you pick every hour we will do."

He took the paper from you, "Example, You got Coupon #7" Movie Night. Meaning tonight we'll watch a moive, you're pick but I do have those rented movies we got at Doomsday."

You paused, "I know. I know, It's not the best present, but I felt really bad that I forgot your birthday and I wish you could for-" Before you could let Lloyd finish, you jumped into his arms, tossing him backwards on the bed.

His back hits your blanket and you laid on top of him.

You laughed into his shoulder before showing him your smile with small tears in your eyes. "Thank you." You squeaked, hugging him again, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. Your the best, I love you so much, Thank you, this was such a cute idea!"

Lloyd.EXE has stopped working.

"You're-you're not mad, or-or upset."

"Of course I was, but I realized it's you." You kissed his cheek, "I know you wouldn't forget my birthday because I know you'll remember sooner or later."

Lloyd's lips formed into a smile as you kissed his lips and pulled away. You took the box and closed it, shaking it.

"Now, what will the amazing Lloyd Garmadon do with the awesome Y/N L/N today!"

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unfinishedslurs · 2 years ago

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Established Stoncy (Eddie POV) (ot4 stoncy+steddie)

“Have you heard from Jonathan lately?” She asks quietly.

“He’s been avoiding me as much as you, Nance.” He hears Steve’s hitched breath as she works, and sees her brush a soothing hand along his shoulder. Isn’t she supposed to be dating that guy they’re talking about? How can she talk about him with Steve so casually, like she’s not a hop skip and a jump from cheating on her boyfriend?

“I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Hey, you didn’t do anything,” Steve says, and there’s so much fucking love in his voice Eddie has to squeeze his eyes shut. “He’ll come around, you know that. He’s just got to work through…whatever he’s working through first.”

“I don’t get why he’s avoiding you too. It’s like…”

“He’s not. He wouldn’t.”

“He did before,” she says, sounding vulnerable.

“I think we all agreed he was being stupid back then,” Steve says. “Like, me level idiot, and he doesn’t even have the brain damage to back it up. He’ll talk to us.”

“That’s not funny.” She pauses, and Eddie can see her clinging onto Steve’s words like a lifeline. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

She stands on her tiptoes to kiss him on the forehead, and Eddie turns away, pretending like he wasn’t eavesdropping on their private conversation.

"I don't know what happened between you two but... I'd get her back man. Whatever it takes. 'Cause that — that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen."

Steve’s mouth quirks, and he looks almost amused when he glances at Wheeler. Before he can respond, the ground rumbles, and they both stumble.

“I’m not the only one who sees what's going on there, right?” He asks quietly, gesturing between the two lovebirds.

Robin looks…caught, all the sudden, like he found her putting itching powder in his underwear. He doesn’t understand it.

“Uh, yeah,” she says, strangled. “They’re, y’know, umm…”

He doesn’t understand why she’s acting so weird about this. Maybe Steve and Nancy had a bad break, years ago, but they’re clearly still into each other. It’s not like it’s out of the ordinary for two attractive, straight—

Ah.

“So, Nancy?”

“What?”

“She’s pretty,” he offers, and Robin nearly trips on her face.

“Do you—“

“No,” he says, and glances pointedly at Steve. “She’s, uh, not my type.”

“Oh?” She asks, and then comprehension dawns on her face. She looks between him and Steve, and her eyes widen. “Oh!”

“Yeah, oh,” he says. “So, like, I get it.”

“Get…it…” She blinks, and then realization settles across her face. “Oh, I don’t—-“ she cuts herself off. “I mean, yeah, no, Nancy’s like, super pretty. The prettiest. And a total badass, it’s like, insane. That’s why I’m…crushing…on her.”

She winces at her own awkwardness, and Eddie nods in support. It’s always weird to talk about it so openly. But hey, if you can’t do it in a hell dimension with no people, where can you talk about it?

“Maybe she likes girls,” he offers up, even though he doubts it. You never know.

Robin’s subsequent coughing fit is so violent both Nancy and Steve turn around to check on them.

“Rob?” Steve asks, hovering. “You okay?”

“I’m good,” she wheezes. Eddie awkwardly pats her back, and tries to pretend it’s not his fault. From the side-eye Nancy sends him, he only partially succeeds. Finally she takes one last gulp of air, and stands up straight.

“So, Nancy!” She says brightly. “Guns, right?”

She takes Nancy’s arm and scurries off without a second look back at him, which is understandable. It takes time to talk about things like this.

“What was that about?” Steve asks, falling into step with him.

“Nothing.”

“Right.” Steve gives him a look, which he pretends not to see.

Steve is on babysitting duty when the car pulls up to the extremely beat up cabin Eddie’s been forced to hide in.

They both tense, but Steve looks outside and sighs in relief. “It’s Nance’s car,” he confirms, and helps Eddie hobble outside. Eddie’s putting a hand on the bannister to balance himself when a vaguely familiar figure stumbles out of the drivers seat.

“Jonathan!”

Steve is practically a blur running past him, slamming into Byers and spinning him around. Wasn’t he just helping Nancy cheat on this guy? How can they just—

All his thoughts screech to a halt as soon as Byers takes Steve’s face in his hands and kisses him.

And keeps kissing him.

And Steve, King Steve, definitely not gay Steve, kisses back. Full on holding him by the waist, pulling him in until their entire bodies line up. As if letting go would make Byers disappear in a nice little poof of smoke.

Wow, Eddie thinks deliriously, holding onto the porch for dear life. These painkillers are no joke.

Nancy comes out of the car next, beaming as her boyfriend makes out with a man right in front of her. A man she was clearly cheating on her boyfriend with.

Unless he’s not actually her boyfriend. Is she a beard? Is she bearding Jonathan? Is Steve cheating on Jonathan with his beard?

He’s starting to think he’s missing a few pieces to this puzzle.

“Um.”

The two lovebirds break apart, and all three of them fix Eddie with a wary look as they register the fact that yes, he is standing there and has been the whole time, thank you very much. Byers is holding Steve’s hand like a challenge, glaring at Eddie like he’s daring him to say something. As if Eddie isn’t the gayest motherfucker in Hawkins.

“Right,” Steve coughs. “Jonathan, this is Eddie. He’s cool, he saved Dustin’s life. Eddie, this is Jonathan. My…uh. My boyfriend.”

Eddie stares. Nancy comes up and takes Jonathan’s other hand. “Our boyfriend,” she corrects. “We’re together. All three of us.”

“Oh,” he says. This is awkward. This is so awkward, Eddie can feel the trees wilting in embarrassment for him. Maybe if he’s lucky it’ll turn out he’s standing in quicksand or another portal will open up beneath his feet and he won’t have to deal with this awkwardness anymore.

Steve likes boys. Good! Great! It would be fucking amazing if he didn’t apparently have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who is standing there in the flesh, silently giving Eddie the biggest stink eye of his life like he’s ready to throw down if he says the wrong this and oh God Eddie still hasn’t said anything-

“Congrats?”

Byers blinks. “Congrats?”

“Yeah, man,” Eddie says, as if he wasn’t just trying to get Nancy to break this dude's heart for Steve like two days ago. God, that’s so embarrassing. They’re already together. “You’ve got pretty good taste. Your charisma stats must be off the roof.”

If he remembers anything from high school that’s definitely a lie, but a little flattery never hurt anyone.

Steve barks out a laugh, Nancy rolls her eyes, and Byers stares at him like he’s grown two new heads. “You’re Eddie,” he says, sounding it out.

Eddie spreads his arms. “In the flesh. Well, mostly. I’m missing some chunks of it.”

“DND Eddie? From Hellfire?”

“Did they not tell you anything? Harsh, Wheeler. I thought you liked me.”

“Wrong Wheeler,” Byers says. “Mike wouldn’t shut up about you. Two days straight in a pizza van after we got the news of what you’d done, and I was ready to rip my hair out.”

Aww, that’s cute. He honestly likes the kid, even though Dustin has been thrust firmly into the “favorite” category, on the basis of nearly dying in his arms and probably traumatizing the kid forever. He’s glad the sentiment is returned.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Steve snorts as he starts dragging his partners towards the cabin. “Did you notice he only started growing his hair out after he met Eddie?”

“Wait, really?” Eddie asks as Steve snags him by the wrist and pushes him in front. Like a long, awkward, queer train. Is Nancy queer? Can he ask? Are they at that stage in their friendship? Does that come before or after fighting monsters together?

Nancy laughs harder than he knew she was capable of. “Oh my god, he did! I didn’t even realize!”

“Uh, yeah, because you didn’t have to hear day in and day out from that little shit how much cooler he is than me. Dude, did you know they thought you were scary? You?”

Eddie’s touched, honestly. He put a lot of work into terrifying the masses. “I am scary,” he says. “I fucking shredded along to Metallica to stop a demon from killing us all. I’m more metal than I ever was.”

“Yeah but you’ve also got those, like, doe eyes, man.” Steve waves a hand as if he’s not making every wire in Eddie’s brain short circuit, and tugs them all down on the couch.

“I have what now?”

Nancy giggles, leaning around her boyfriends to try and poke his cheek. He snaps his teeth at her.

“Don’t you know? Steve’s weak to big, soulful eyes,” she says, batting her own eyes in emphasis. Byers rolls his, which are also big and brown and kind of wet, now that Eddie’s paying attention.

“Nancy,” Steve whines, “don’t tell him that!”

“Sorry.” She doesn’t sound sorry, grinning as she practically sits in Byers’s lap to give Steve a peck. He watches them with the kind of fondness that Eddie’s always kind of dreamed of having directed at him, and it punches deep.

So Steve isn’t cheating on anyone and probably never will, which is a relief and also a bummer to some of the more pathetic fantasies he’s whipped up in the past few days trapped in this cabin. He likes Nancy too much to ever actually get in the way of her true love, but it doesn’t hurt to dream.

“Yeah, okay, I have big ol’ Bambi eyes or whatever. You wanna talk kiddie crushes and hero worship, how about Sinclair?”

“What about him?” Steve asks, apparently oblivious.

“Uh, how about the whole basketball thing?”

Steve’s brow furrows. “He loves basketball!” He protests. “He asked me to practice with him when he first started thinking about joining the team, we still go out and play sometimes.”

“Uh huh,” Eddie says. “And how about the time I said something about your fight with Hargrove, and he jumped to your defense even faster than Dustin could about how badass and cool and handsome you were?”

“There’s no way he said that,” he says, turning bright red. “There’s—no. Billy was going to hurt him, he was, like, fucking twelve or something, I couldn’t just…he didn’t say that.”

“Might as well have. That entire speech had me clocking the kid faster than you can say ‘touchdown.’”

“That’s football.”

“I’ll tell you what he’d like to ball—“ he starts, and Steve screeches.

“Shut up, shut up, don’t say that! He’s a baby, what is wrong with you—“

“That ‘baby’ already experienced his first hangover, mom. Time for little birdies to leave the nest.”

“You calling me mom makes it so much worse,” Steve tells him. “I should have left you to rot.”

“Probably!” He says brightly. “But that doesn’t stop the fact that Sinclair has a crush on you the size of Texas.”

“Jonathan,” Steve whines, burying his face in his hands, “make him stop.”

Byers pats Steve’s shoulder sympathetically. “Sorry, man, I thought you knew.”

“It was kind of obvious, Steve,” Nancy agrees. “He does ask to play basketball a lot. Especially on hot days.”

“What does the weather have to do with anything?”

“Shorts,” Nancy and Jonathan say together.

“How short?” Eddie asks. He should probably think about switching pockets, if he’s turned into this much of a masochist.

“So short,” Nancy says. “And he usually takes his shirt off halfway in, when he’s all sweaty.”

“Jesus, no fucking wonder. And he can’t blush either, can he? I’m starting to think he’s the smartest of the bunch.”

“Well, Byers?” Eddie spreads his arms, ignoring the trepidation in his gut. “Am I everything you expected?”

Byers tilts his head, looks at him with a gaze that could cut through bone. Eddie has a feeling the guy is finding out what every single one of his organs looks like, and he can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing.

Finally he gives a sharp nod, like he’s decided something.

“I think if you stick around, the three of us are going to have to have a repeat of that conversation we had when I went to California,” he says, as if Eddie should know what the fuck that means. “You’re cool, man. Call me Jonathan.”

He blinks, mouth half open, and Byers’s-Jonathan’s mouth quirks.

“Conversation about what?”

Byers hums noncommittally, because apparently their entire trio is bent on making Eddie’s sanity take a jump off the quarry. “A lot of things,” he sighs, and sends Eddie a wry little smile. “I haven’t exactly been a very good boyfriend lately.”

Eddie’s feeling magimous enough to be honest. “They think the world of you, man. I heard them talking about you. They…shit, they really love you, you know that? I think you’re gonna be okay.”

#ot4 stoncy+steddie #sorry for the ronance bait but actually robin is just taking one for the team #steve would ABSOLUTELY spin jonathan around like a romance movie try and tell me otherwise #this can be read as jargyle as well sorry my man isn't in here he's busy doing hot girl shit #(calling suzie 'sally' in front of dustin for shits and giggles)#established stoncy+steddie au #stranger things fanfic #nancy wheeler #eddie munson #jonathan byers #steve harrington

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