#I haven’t read the book from beginning to end yet
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nicolascageisagoth · 2 years ago
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Lol Tolhurst, GOTH a History. Depeche Mode Department
I should say it looks nice and could be a good present. The cover is designed in vintage style, I had books with similar covers from the 30s-50s-70s. If you think to buy this book I recommend to choose the hard cover, it's worth it.
I will leave a comment about «the contents» after reading and reflecting (and not forgetting about photos inside). Everything looks pretty interesting, albeit briefly.
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xxblairexxss · 1 year ago
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Cookies!
Pairing : dad!Jude Bellingham x reader
Them : Angst, I think.
Word count : 2k
Jude had a bad day and it seemed like a cookie wasn’t enough to cheer him up.
I haven’t written in soooo long. Apologize for any mistakes. Might delete this one. I don’t know. Sorry! Should start writing more. 😔
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Jude and you were highschool sweethearts. Back when eveyone thought you guys wouldn’t make it because kids in love? Yeah, who would have thought you guys could pull through.
But you did.
There were ups and downs especially at the beginning of his career. Those multiple rumors and gossips came flooding all at once and you went from a normal girl to someone who was known to have a famous boyfriend. They ven called you “the girl who hit the jackpot”.
Some even called you lucky.
A few months after your marriage, Jude and you were blessed with a little girl named Aaralyn. Jude was a perfect father figure to her though to be honest, her arrival wasn’t really align with the immense growth of his career but he managed to balance it all out.
But there were still ups and downs.
The small little hand was flipping through pages of pages from your baking cookbooks whilst her other hand kept on tapping on her chin. Her soft little hums filled through the air.
“Have you make up your mind, honey?” You asked whilst rummaging through the cupboards to take out every baking tools needed.
Jude had been feeling under the weather these days. He tried to hide it from you as he always did but you always catch on it. You knew him very well.
And so did Aaralyn.
Apparently, your little girl was fully aware of it too. Aaralyn woke up this morning and came up with an idea to bake cookies for Jude because it was her favourite and based on her logic, whatever foods that made her happy, should made others happy just as much.
“Mommy, we… bake choco cookies!”
You let out a cackle. “You flipped through the whole book just to decide with a basic one?”
“It’s Alyn’s favourite!” Her small little hands started patting on her chest with a proud expression written all over the face.
“Of course, baby. Can you let mommy see the ingredients, please?” You were about to pull the book closer to your side but your duaghter was quicker.
She snatched the book back with her lips jutting out. “Alyn can read!”
“Okay, read it out loud while mommy gather all of the ingredients, yeah?”
“This one says..powder!” Her little finger pointed to the first ingredient on the list.
“What kind of powder?”
“Co— cocoa powder, mommy! This one..” The little finger then slid to the second ingredient.
••
Your little girl’s eyes widen when the sound of a car came from the garage. There was no other car that could have parked in the garage except for your husband’s.
“Daddy is here! Mommy, daddy’s here! We need to be faster!” She made a hop sound as her dangling little feet touched the ground and scrambled to get her princess plate from the cupboard.
“Use Alyn’s plate!” She lifted her pink coloured plate up high for you to place one of the baked goods.
The sound of the door slammed put your little conversation with Aaralyn to an end. There were no words exchanged as both of you stared at Jude. He threw his bag on the couch, the things inside hit with some of your daughter’s toys.
“Alyn, I told you to clean up your toys, didn’t I?” The tense in Jude’s voice was enough to make his mood known to the rest of the family members.
“Uh-oh, mommy wait!” Your daughter tiptoed to place her plate back on the kitchen counter before scrambling to the living room.
You were looking from afar as she straighten her arm to grab on her little toy whilst Jude was ignoring her existence, eyes solely on his phone.
“Daddy, can help me? Please?” Aaralyn mumbled a little as she patted on her dad’s laps.
“You should clean up your own mess. We talked about this yet you still refuse to learn.” He stood up, picked up the bag which he threw earlier and headed straight to the bedroom, leaving your little girl alone.
You saw she brought her little hands close to her chest, lips pouting as she stood there, completely baffled with what just happened.
“Baby, it’s alright. Mommy will help you.” You picked up your daughter’s toy box and brought it closer to the couch, Aaralyn then made a little noise as she jumped on the couch to gather all of the toys left.
“Daddy might be feeling a little sad today. I’m sorry about what happened, sweetheart.” You cupped on her chubby cheeks to give them a little kiss.
“It’s awright! Daddy will be happy after my cookie!” She squealed.
Your brows lifted, smile widen as she mentioned the main point of the day. “You are right! I forgot about the cookies. Should we bring it to daddy?”
“It’s okay! Alyn will do it.”
You trailed behind as she ran back to the kitchen, boths arms high up in the air to get her plate back.
“Be careful!” As soon as you handed her plate back, she already made her way to the room where Jude went.
“Alyn will come back after I make daddy happy!” Her voice sounded afar as she ran to the hallway.
Aaralyn’s pace stopped in a sudden as she nearly hit the closed door. There came a new problem as she couldn’t knock on the door whilst holding the plate.
“Uh-oh..” The soft little mumble slipped out from her mouth.
“Daddy? It’s me!” The back of her hand hesitantly knocked on the door as she took a step back, waiting for a response.
Jude heaved a sigh, arm propped up to cover his eyes. He wished a second for himself and he got was continous knocking sound greeting his ears.
“Daddy…?”
“Daddy!” She crouched down to carefully put the plate on the floor before bringing both of her fists thumping against the door.
“It’s me, Alyn!”
“What do you want from me?!” The inside of the door banged agaist the wall of the bedroom as Jude opened the door. There was nothing but tense in his voice.
Jude saw his little girl struggling to stand up straight with the plate of cookies right as he brought his gaze on her.
Startled by the sudden loud noise, some of the cookies in the plate fell onto the floor. Most of the perfect sized cookie now turned into little bits and pieces.
“Alyn just— just wanna give daddy a cookie…” Your little girl immediately cut the vexed gaze from Jude, her head hung low and she bit on the inside of her cheeks.
“You are making me suffocated. I need a fucking break and I can’t even do that in my house?!”
“Sorry daddy…” Her words turned into a mumble, lips started trembling.
Jude heaved a sigh when he spotted the cookie crumbles now all scattered on the floor. “Great, another mess. Clean it, Alyn. Now!”
Hearing the voice of your husband gradually got louder and louder, you immediately flipped the main valve. You barely had any time to wipe your hands as you scurried to the bedroom where you saw your little girl crouching on the floor, her little chubby hands quivered as she picked up the mess she did.
“Jude! What was that for?!” Fuming, you pushed him by his chest, tears welled up in your eyes.
“I just need a rest, Y/N,” He rolled his eyes with no hint of guilty.
“You could have just said so instead of cursing to my daughter. She did nothing wrong!”
“She should have just left me alone. No one gives a fuck about a fucking cookie right now! I couldn’t play for 2 months and you didn’t even ask me if I’m doing fine!” Jude responded back, not giving any sign to back down nor to tune down his voice.
“I know you aren’t doing fine. Alyn knows it as well. In fact, she knows it better than me. She planned all this. She planned a movie night, we waited for you to come home only to find out you spent a night at Vini’s without telling us beforehand. Alyn wanted to cook your favourite food. We did and you weren’t able to come home again. She then decided to bake her favourite cookies, thinking it could cheer you up only for you to shout at her face. Is it her fault that you have to rest for two months? That you had to lash it all out on her? Do it to me! Scream in my face, Jude! Do it.” Jude didn’t flinched when your fist repeatedly hit on his chest.
“This isn’t about you, Y/N.” He breathed out.
“So, is it about your daughter? Is that why you lashed out on her?”
Instead of saying anything else, he heaved a sigh and made his way to the bathroom.
You went back to where your little girl was sitting. The tears stain were immediately gone as you quickly wiped of your cheeks before crouching in front of her.
“Come, baby,”
Your little girl pulled her hand back from you and went back to picking up the crimbles. “Daddy— daddy asked Alyn to clean up this mess first or daddy will be mad again…”
Your heart broke when she kept her head low. Aaralyn always loved to make eye contacts, she had always been the mood maker in the house.
“Mommy will clean up the mess. Can you go back to your room, please, baby?”
“Daddy won’t be mad..?” She lifted her eyes and you were greeted a pair of puffy eyes, her cheeks were more round as she jushed her lips forward. She looked exactly like Jude and it broke the dam of your tears.
“Daddy won’t be mad at you anymore. Go back to your room? Mommy will see you once I clean this all up, alright?”
**
Jude clearly forgot what happened after. He was literally losing the grasp on time as soon as he woke up from his nap. The blanket was pushed aside as he grabbed on his phone. The brightness made him squint his eyes. The picture of you and your little girl greeted his sight.
3:02
Even in the dark, without him having to turn his head aside, he could still feel the bareness. He wasn’t sure what it was yet. Not until he tapped on the other side of the bed.
It was empty. Untouched even.
“Honey?”
His heartbeat gradually turned even faster as every call was left unanswered. You were a light sleeper. Even a slight noise could have woken you up. Soon as he left the master bedroom, his feet bought him to your little girl’s room. The light was left on but there wasn’t any sight of his baby girl too.
“Aaralyn. Honey?”
Jude went uneasy. His skin turned sticky as he broke intol cold sweats. Part of him wished all of this was just a dream. Before he reached the main door, he caught a glimpse of a pink coloured plate on the dining table with some sort of yellow coloured paper by its side along with a box of crayon pencils.
“Daddy’s
— Aarlyn ❤️”
••
You could have brush it off if it was only between you and him but not to your little girl. Aaralyn was clearly upset. Even when you packed her stuffs, she remained seated at the dining table, staring at her remaining cookie.
As you rearranged her folded clothes into the luggage, she came back into her room, looking determined as if she had to get something done. You let her be as she ran back outside as she took out her crayon set with a piece of paper from her notebook.
Unknown to you, she actually wanted to leavr a little message to her very first love.
“There! For daddy!” She mumbled, the crayon in her hand was slipped back into the rest of the set as she left the paper right beside her plate. Her little hand then rearrange the cookie right in the middle. Not before she took a small bite at the corner of it.
“Daddy will like it…” She murmured with a small smile on her face.
“Come, baby. We gotta go.” You called out to your little girl, voice half whispering not to wake Jude up. After all those things that he did, you dtill couldn’t believe he had the audacity to just call it a night.
“Okay, mommy!” Aaralyn hopped off the chair and ran to you as you crouched down to put on her shoes. As she remain still with her little leg on your lap, she sticked her index finger in her mouth, eyes locked at the dining table area.
“What are you looking at, sweetheart?”
“Alyn forgot to keep my crayon…” She answered.
“That’s alright. Just leave it be.” You picked up your luggage bag, your free hand locked on your little girl’s wrist.
“Mommy, where are we going? Aaralyn asked.
“Daddy needed some time alone so it’s just gonna be you and me.”
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threeacttragedy · 7 months ago
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Entry 12: The One Where We Start Laying the Yellow Brick Road to Italy
I realized the other day that, even though I like to bounce around from place to place in the Lukola timeline, I probably needed to start tightening things up on the ship if I ever wanted to get to the end of the story. And, yes, dammit, this story better have a finale at some point because there’s nothing more annoying than an open-ended ending, particularly in the romance genre.
Today we’re going to take a quick jaunt over to Italy because –
NO! Not because Luke is allegedly filming there. If you’re into real-time stalking, you’re in the wrong blog. But, I’m sure there’s a Discord for that.
It’s because I’ve had several people ask for my opinion about the change in behavior between Luke and Nicola during their Day 1 interviews there. Wait – people are interested in my thoughts? Wow, that’s actually kind of nice. Thank you! Okay, back to what I was saying –
Was there a change in behavior when Luke and Nicola reached Italy? Yeah, actually, there kind of was.
By May 9, we had been gifted with a slew of material from Luke, Nicola, and the Bridgerton cast and, I must admit, those early interviews are some of the most entertaining of the tour. In the very beginning, Nicola appeared as the utmost professional – charming, intelligent, and witty at the right moments – and Luke played her likeable counterpart to “Book Colin” perfection – bouncing between being awkwardly boyish and wickedly roguish, all while looking at Nicola like she had just served him homemade peanut butter crumble.
The two of them together, playing off each other, in my opinion, was better than Bridgerton Season 3 (you cannot beat the World Tour being 99% Luke and Nicola, with only a few random side characters taking up screentime). There was some major “Electric Love” radiating from those two throughout the tour, but it seemed very much heightened in the beginning (probably because they hadn’t yet answered the same question 67 times). By the way, if you haven’t heard that song by Børns, go have a listen. It will, at the very least – hopefully – put you in an upbeat mood for the day.
Now, where was I? Oh, yes – was there a change in behavior between Luke and Nicola when they reached Italy?
Absolutely.
Do I know why?
Absolutely not.
Perhaps Luke was bent because someone spilled his coffee, or Nicola was upset because her stylist made her to wear that little silver bow in her hair. In my opinion, the most intriguing part of Day 1 of the Italy press junket was that Luke and Nicola struggled with answering the question, “What is love?” I swear they both babbled on like two kids in debate class who hadn’t bothered to read the material given to them before taking their respective podiums. They finally seemed to settle on Luke’s “Maybe it’s, like, connection.” Well, they seemed to be missing the “connection” that day.
Honestly, no one can explain their “don’t stand so close to me” vibe during those first day interviews except Luke and Nicola. But, we can at least have some fun and speculate about it with a bird’s eye view. At this point, you should know that I love spreading the puzzle pieces out and seeing how they might all connect. Most people – when putting a puzzle together – start with the side pieces, right? You’ll get my joke in a moment (I hope).
In March 2024 – I don’t know the specific date because my timeline is rather murky going back that far (I was unaware Lukola even existed!) – Luke traveled to Los Angeles for a photo spread with InStyle magazine. I’ve heard two versions of this story. The first being that Luke traveled to Los Angeles with Antonia alone; the second being that he traveled to Los Angeles with his friend group, which included Antonia. I couldn’t tell you which is true, and it really doesn’t matter because it doesn’t necessarily add or take away from today’s story.
Before I get started, I wanted to give a “hurrah” to The-One-Whose-Group-Chat-Fills-in-Lots-of-Missing-Bits-for-Me-Including-the-Part-Where-Video-Footage-of-Antonia-in-Los-Angeles-Seemed-to-Indicate-a-Celebrity-Was-Not-the-Videographer-and-There-Were-So-Many-British-Accents-in-the-Background-One-Would-Fancy-a-Guess-She-was-Traveling-with-a-Group.
Moving along…
On April 7, 2024, Antonia posted a series of photographs and clips to her Instagram grid indicating she had been in Los Angeles, including one where she was laying on a blanket in front of the Griffith Observatory and one where she was sitting at a table marked with the number “95.” On April 14, she posted a second set of photographs, tagging her location as Beverly Hills, California and using “End of Beginning” as her audio (yes, I side-eyed this choice of music so don’t feel bad if you did as well). The second photo dump included her lounging on a rooftop.
I’m not going to delve into posts made by Luke and Nicola during that timeframe. I mean, I’m sure Nicola’s comment, “’Friends’…sure Jan,” on Luke’s April 11 reshared post about Bridgerton Season 3 was only meant to be applicable to Polin. And, if Luke wanted to use yellow and black hearts to represent the colors Nicola and he were wearing in his April 12 post, that’s cool, too. And, I am definitely not going to speculate on Nicola’s April 15 post (for Big Mood) that Luke liked, and she captioned, “I will bite off anything that dangles.”
By April 21, Luke and Nicola were in Australia at the World Premiere of Bridgerton. I am only going to provide a quick overview of Australia instead of a full-fledged recital because, at some point, I will almost certainly dedicate an entry to this country. Let’s start with Luke pulling off the hottest walk-up in Netflix human history (I mean, have you watched it in slow motion?). Then, we had the hard launch of the handholding business (because why again?). And, we had Luke tripping over his words, “We’re very, like, giving…I’m not talking about those scenes…” Oh, and Nicola telling an interviewer that, “[y]ou can’t keep a good girl down,” and, in response, Luke’s lips curling into a wicked-ass Cheshire cat's. We had them in the garden, with Nicola bending down to hug Luke after she had scratched/hit/petted his head. Perhaps I should not mention the possibility of a man’s shirt being visible on a bed behind Nicola (I said possibility not that it was). And, Nicola telling Luke, “You’re the funnier one,” when he was concerned that perhaps Benedict was funnier than Colin. Then we had the “Nicola-in-the-green-dress” day where, as they were going down the steps, Luke seemed to instinctively reach for Nicola’s hand, but she played it cool and took his arm instead. Oh, and that entire “green dress” day in general (I mean, there was so much shit going on that day). And, best we do not forget Nicola saying, “the best foundation for love is friendship,” which mirrored the bracelet “someone…in Australia” gave Luke that read, “Do you believe the best foundation for love is friendship?” Because that’s not suspicious at all. Alright, let’s get the fuck out of Australia – but not before I mention Nicola commenting on Luke’s April 27 Instagram post with “Ready for the next?” and Luke replying, “Absolutely.” Yeah, yeah, yeah, their shenanigans in Australia expanded the USS Lukola tenfold.
Oh, also, let me throw this in here because, if you are a “ring truther,” this fact plays a significant role in the Lukola timeline. If you do not know what a “ring truther” is, that’s perfectly fine. You can catch up by reading Entry 6 (The One Where I Explained the Claddagh Ring to My Dad) of my blog. I mentioned in Entry 6 that some Lukola sleuths have stated the metadata they pulled from the sketches of the Claddagh ring uploaded by Chupi indicate they were done as early as April 26. In other words, it means the Claddagh was likely commissioned between Australia and Italy. In fact, if we are to believe Chupi when it said it took four weeks to make the ring, then it had to have been commissioned by May 9, 2024, at the latest. Oh, lookie there, that’s Day 1 of the Italy interviews.
But, before we get to May 9, let’s pause on April 29. That was the day Luke’s InStyle spread was published – yes, the one I mentioned earlier. Luke has pictures from this photoshoot still on his Instagram grid – in fact, Nicola commented, “Yess dude!!” on them – but those aren’t the pictures I want to talk about. No, I want to talk about the pictures InStyle posted on its Instagram grid that day. These photographs came directly from Luke, which was confirmed by the InStyle article when it said, “…the actor delighted the InStyle team by delivering the polaroid photos he’d taken for this story tucked oh-so-carefully in a little brown bag for safekeeping.” The pictures Luke provided, among others, included one where he was laying on a blanket in front of the Griffith Observatory in Los Angeles; one where he was sitting at a table marked with the number “95;” and one where he is sitting in a lounge chair on a rooftop. If you want to see the pictures, InStyle still has them available – you just need to go through hundreds of posts to find them. Luke did not like this InStyle post, which was kind of odd because he was tagged in it, and they were reportedly his pictures.
Why did these InStyle polaroids seem so familiar?
Oh, that’s right, because they were.
Remember that April 7 post of Antonia’s I mentioned a bit ago? Yeah, the one where Antonia posted a bunch of random pictures from Los Angeles and – only after InStyle posted Luke’s polaroids – fans realized Antonia had preemptively posted her version of some of Luke’s polaroids.
I am not going to speculate too much about these pictures or their implications in this blog post, but these pictures may resurface in future posts because I find myself side-eyeing the fact they even exist. And, we should probably accept that Luke was aware of them before his pictures came out on April 29 because he threw a like on Antonia’s April 7 post. Could it have been a “blind” like? Sure, I guess, but the logical side of my brain says he probably looked through them at the time she posted. Let’s not worry too much about it right now, though.
After trying to write out my “general” opinion about the pictures several times, I finally decided that the best way I could articulate my thoughts was through the conversation I had with my father. Yes, Dear Dad returns again for another insightful Q&A.
I started by showing Luke and Antonia’s three “matchy” pictures to my dad and then asked him to compare them. To be clear, the pictures were their respective Griffith Observatory, Table 95, and Rooftop Lounging pictures.
Me: “So what do you think?”
Dad: “About what?”
Me: “Ugh! Why did Antonia take those pictures?”
Dad: “Well, to show she’s part of the ‘in’ crowd. The only reason I can see them being taken is if she was going to put them on the Internet.”
Me: “Uhh, as a matter of fact, she did put them on the Internet! Approximately three weeks before Luke’s were published.”
Dad: “See! I’m not as dumb as you think.”
Me: “Whatever. So, you really believe that? She took them to show people that she was, like, there?”
Dad: “Yeah. Why else would she take them? They’re not the kind of photos you’d take normally. What’s she going to do, put them in an album and show her friends in five years and say, ‘Look, I sat in Luke’s chair?’ Who does that? Nobody. Plus, Luke’s pictures look like they were taken with a polaroid camera and Antonia took hers with, I guess, a phone. Why use two different cameras? Again, it doesn’t make sense. Seems to me like she knew what pictures he was taking, and she was trying to copy them so she could put them on the Internet.”
Thanks, Dad.
You do not have to accept my father’s thoughts on the photographs. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. However, I think we can meet in the middle and opine that, at a minimum, Antonia’s pictures caused the weak Lukolas to jump overboard; at most, they gave some people stalker vibes; and somewhere in between, they introduced Antonia's negative influence over the fandom and what some may consider trolling behavior (even if it wasn’t recognized then).
Now, before we land in Italy on May 9, let’s summarize what has happened during the preceding two months.
First, we had Luke traveling to Los Angeles in March with Antonia, either alone or as part of a friend group. Luke had pictures of himself taken while there.
Second, we had Antonia posting pictures in early April that would be linked directly to Luke’s pictures by the end of the month.
Third, throughout the month of April, we had Luke and Nicola traveling together for the World Tour. We have all seen these interviews, and we have all formed independent opinions about them.
Fourth, based on Chupi’s own words, we know the Claddagh ring must have been commissioned no later than May 9.
Okay, now we’ve reached May 9, Day 1 of the Italy press junket.
Besides the press interviews, what happened on that day?
Well, Antonia reposted Luke singing Coldplay’s “Yellow” to her TikTok account.
Uhh… Huh. Interesting.
I mean, it’s possible that this was just a coincidence and she just liked Luke’s version of it. Or, it’s possible Antonia knew that “Yellow” was the Polin wedding song and she anticipated trolling Nicola and/or the fandom with it. But, if we believe she knew “Yellow” was the Polin wedding song, that means either Luke told her, or someone with that knowledge told her (i.e., someone from Luke’s team or family/friend group). We also know that Luke mentioned this song in the May 16, 2022 Netflix Tudum article when Nicola and he were asked about their song choices for Season 3. Luke stated his frontrunner was “Yellow” by Coldplay “because of Penelope’s dresses.” Regardless of why Antonia posted the song, I find it hard to imagine Netflix, Bridgerton, Shondaland, Nicola, or Luke were too impressed by Antonia resharing it on TikTok. I mean, at this point, Netflix & Co. would surely have been aware that Antonia’s “copycat post” went over with the fandom like a wet blanket in December in Canada. I imagine some questions were being asked and Luke may very well have received a hand slap from Corporate – and maybe even from Nicola.
But, that’s not the only thing that happened on May 9.
Luke posted his Homme magazine spread to his Instagram grid on that day, too. He captioned the post, “Chatting through all things S3 with @hommeplusmag [o]ut next week x.” Nicola commented, “Yessss,” and Luke tagged his post with the location of Hackney, London. That last part – about Luke tagging the location in Hackney – apparently sent the fandom into a deep-dive of…Nicola’s backyard. Why? Because Nicola lives in Hackney (Nicola herself confirmed she lived in Hackney in a March 18, 2024 interview with Derry Now), and rumors started to circulate that Luke’s pictures were taken at her home.
Hmm, I didn’t realize May 9 was such a busy day, did you?
So, which came first – the chicken or the egg? Did Antonia repost “Yellow” to her TikTok before Luke posted his Homme in Hackney images to Instagram, or vice versa? I’m sure someone out there has this information. The answer might help shine some light as to why Luke and Nicola seemed “off” in the early part of their Day 1 Italy interviews. But, then again, does the order really matter? Regardless of who posted first, it would seem to me that “Yellow” was a very possible culprit for the different energy on set that day.
That, or Luke really was peeved over someone spilling his coffee.
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starkeymeow · 10 months ago
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lover of mine ₍₈₎
drew starkey x actress!reader au
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— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.
warnings: a really long chapter part thing i fear . kisses .. maybe .. IM NOT SPOILING THIS
prev next
authors note: erm guys .. if im rushing this then do NOT pay attention !! I WANT THEM TO BE OKAY AGAIN JUST LIKE U GUYS I FEAR. I CANT HELP MYSELF. but do NOT think this is the end because this is NOT!! we still have to get through the rest of the second week + the wedding. and if u think about it, DAMN a lot happened in week 1 omg goodnight
anyway, if u still arent part of the tag list, feel free to let me know thru replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3333
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you keep your distance from him the next two days. you know you have to face him, and sometimes you do, but you’re stiffer than before. he knows better than anyone to maintain that gap until you’re okay again.
it just feels like your breakup with him all over again, but this time, for a different reason other than having too much time apart. this time, you’re all he spends time with but there just happens to be something getting in the way of that. another girl. it isn’t fair.
drew’s been trying to show in little ways that he’s sorry, but it doesn’t cut it for you. not yet. and you don’t want to lead him by a string and take advantage of him caring about you. but him bringing you breakfast, then trying to avoid you throughout the day until you’re back in libby’s bed again—it’s just frustrating.
you don’t even want to be there anymore. you don’t want to have to deal with this. but it’s for leila and theo, their day is coming up soon. you just want them to have a good time and then you can all separate ways and live your own lives again. how it’s always been and how it should be.
the guys are getting ready to visit town while the girls stay back. this isn’t for you though, and you’re grateful. gia proposed a self-care day after a package was shipped to the home, a large box of cookies, and safe to say you all agreed to the plan.
“i’ve been trying to get back into reading but i feel like i have no time sometimes,” leila’s telling you and the girls as you set up shop at the kitchen island.
there’s an array of face masks, moisturizers, rollers, oils, creams, other things they’ve wanted to try. gia even brings her diffuser and places it nearby as the tv in the living room plays.
“i recommend ‘doomsday’!” libby perks up from across the table. “i read it last summer and let me tell you, i bawled crying for a month straight.”
“y/n, you read,” leila says as she files her nails, crossing a leg over another. “what are your recommendations?”
“hey,” theo greets leila as he and the boys join you four at the table, each with their respective girlfriend besides libby and oscar, and technically you and drew. he hovers behind you but just merely nods his head to say hello. “we’re gonna head out.”
“oh, okay,” leila says with a small frown, but kisses him goodbye. “drive safe, alright?” you’re winking at roman who points at you to say to behave, but he kisses gia’s cheek before he’s following theo out.
you answer leila from earlier with a shrug, “i’ve been wanting to find ‘the last love letter’ but i haven’t really been reading lately. been too busy.”
gia mouth gapes open as she slams her hand on the table, nearly knocking something over. “shut up, i’ve been wanting to read that too!” she shrieks as libby tells her to be more careful.
you can only giggle at her while she gets off her seat and comes up behind you to pull your hair and tie it back.
“that book is literally nowhere, i swear the author only made like five copies of it.”
“have you guys read ‘self sabotage’?” leila asks as she and libby, already prepared, begin to place their face masks on.
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you’re on the couch with the girls as libby records you on her phone. the box of cookies are opened and after careful review, you’ve all decided what to try first and what comes after that, and so on.
“now?” you ask libby if she’s ready, and she nods. you, leila, and gia take a cautious bite out of the pieces you’ve broken off of the first cookie. it only takes you a few chews in to realize how heavenly it is. gia even pretends to faint beside you.
“holy shit,” leila says as she covers her mouth, taking a look at the cookie with wide eyes. “are you serious?”
libby lunges at you with her phone to take it from her, “well now i wanna try it!”
you’re in a fit of laughter as you try to turn the camera around before she can sink her teeth in, but she’s too fast. your eyes widen at the girl, “libby, slow down!”
and eventually, you’re full of cookies and half of them are still yet to be tried. you agree with the girls to continue this matter tomorrow if the boys don’t eat it all themselves, and you know they will. you’re just glad you’ve already tried all the ones you really wanted to before then.
when the guys get home, it’s exactly what you anticipated. they bee line directly to the cookies on the coffee table, but not without greeting you all first.
theo groans as he takes a bite, roman right beside him to stuff a whole chunk in his mouth. “this is better than sex,” he murmurs while roman snaps his fingers several times. leila can’t help but nod in agreement.
“i feel cookie-drunk,” you say with your hand on your stomach, and gia curls up into your side as she holds onto hers. “what’d you guys get?”
roman is quick to reach into his bag and pull out a couple of keychains, as if he just got reminded about something. he tosses one at gia’s head, and you look over to see what it is.
“the world’s okayest girlfriend,” she reads aloud, and she chucks it back at him, no longer accepting the gift that roman laughs about. she gets up to see what else is in his bag, leaving drew to plop down next to you and libby, who’s on the other side of you this whole time.
she’s cleaning the ice cream off her spoon when she speaks up for you and her, “what’d you get?”
“few things,” he says as he lets you look inside for yourself.
you pull out a long box and open it. it’s a chain bracelet, sterling silver. it’s nice, and you nod with raised brows. there’s other things inside that you only glance at, but when you look up at him you notice the new pair of sunglasses that’s resting on his head.
you pull it off of him silently and place it on yourself, unspokenly thanking him for the temporary gift you’ll give back later but you like them so now they’re yours for a few hours.
drew purses his lips and closes his bag, assuming you’re done, so he gets up and starts heading upstairs. you look over at libby. without hesitation, she asks, “you okay?”
you hesitate, and you know she’s only asking this because this is one of drew’s brief interactions with you since a few days ago. but you shrug it off, “yeah, i’m okay,” you say.
libby doesn’t miss a beat, she’s not convinced at all. she knows you well enough to understand what ‘im okay’ really means is ‘i’ll be okay’. that it’s not okay, but it will be eventually.
she’s seen this look on you before, during the hardest parts of your relationship with drew. she can feel the unspoken words between them, the ones you don’t even need to say out loud.
“right,” libby says with a soft sigh. she wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a comforting hug. “you’ll be alright,” she whispers. you know she won’t pry further, but knowing that whatever drew did, it was enough to hurt you again.
after a few moments, she pulls back and, with a small smile, asks, “wanna help me with dinner soon? leila thought it’d be nice to eat out in the backyard tonight, by the pool.”
you hum softly, nodding your head, “yeah, that sounds good.”
libby grins, “awesome. ‘cause it’s pizza night and i cannot do it alone.”
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the next few hours blur together. you’ve successfully prepared the pizzas with libby and slid them into the oven. now you’re cutting into them and displaying them outside on the table.
it used to be bare, but someone since morning has gone out there to help decorate the backyard to make it just a little flashier. there’s a cloth on the table, which is scattered with candles, flowers, dishes, platters of cookies, fruits, a charcuterie board, and there’s a helpful variety of drinks.
fairy lights blink across the backyard, even over the pool, and it illuminates the whole place. you place the different pizzas in between each candle piece, which libby lights as you do. when you call everyone outside, you join together at the table.
and once theo leads you once again with the ‘i’m grateful for my future wife’ shit, you get to dig in. you’re pretty sure it was longer this time around and even roman started to just eat until he was kicked under the table by drew.
“fucking finally,” libby murmurs under her breath after theo concludes his speech, to which causes him to pick up an olive off the plate and toss it at her. “yeah, you’re so lucky i like olives,” she whispers to herself as she rearranges her napkin, “fucking loser.”
“libby,” you scold, though you can’t hide your laugh. she’s grinning when she looks up, silently laughing with you.
when you turn to drew on the other side of you, he’s taking large bites from his slice. he tilts his head back with a groan, then takes a longer look at the pizza as he chews.
“s’it good?” you ask, and he nods rapidly, and soon his body moves with it. you bring yourself to smile, grateful that people you care about like what you’ve cooked.
you reach over to take your own slice from each pizza and just stack it on your plate, planning on going through them one by one from the one on too being the one you least want to eat, and the last at the bottom being the one you’re most excited for—a ‘save the best for last’ type of thing. it’s silly but you do it anyway.
drew’s finishing up his bite when he leans into you gently. “i have to talk to you later, by the way,” he says, and it sort of startles you because at this point you’re just talking to libby.
you look at him with furrowed brows, but again, you’re not mad. you’re not upset with him. at least not in this moment, you can’t be.
and it looks like he’s grateful because he can see it too. “if that’s alright with you,” he says, then takes another bite. you just nod at him in silence, and watch as he turns back to oscar who’s on his other side before talking to him.
you look straight ahead where roman’s sitting, and he sends you a look. he heard drew talking to you, he knows it must be about something important, but it’s not what’s on your mind right now.
you shrug it off. “—tell you later,” you mouth to him, then turn to libby when you realize she’s talking to you again.
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after dinner, gia and leila clean dishes while literally all of the guys clean up outside as a thank you to you and libby, who lay across the living room with bellies filled with food.
there’s a movie playing on tv that you can barely pay attention to, but you’ve been laying there for about an hour so if you really want to, you could. you just play into the laziness that you’re allowed.
you hold your phone above you as libby rolls around the carpet, or at least that’s what you last saw her doing before you looked away. you’re scrolling through texts with your manager as if a new message will come in.
“did elyse get back to you?” libby asks, a face-full of carpet and it sounds like she’s just a few feet away. “about the thing.”
“no,” you mumble, then turn your phone off and set it face-down on the carpet, just like libby. the side of your head is laying on your arm as you look at her. “i could go for another cookie.”
“you ate three!” libby’s muffled voice raises.
“and i’ll make it four,” you tell her, raising your volume back. you consider getting up but don’t feel like it. you can actually lay here forever—maybe.
“y/n,” you hear his voice. it’s drew.
and you get up immediately. he was so softspoken, so cautious with you. he’s entering the house with the other boys who must’ve finished outside, meaning it’s time to have his talk. you almost ask if you guys can just have it there if it’s not that important, but if that’s possible then he wouldn’t be trying to get you alone.
you look over to libby, who—at the sound of drew’s voice—peeked her eyes out to see what he wanted. she looks to you, and she understands why you have to go. she convinces herself to get up and find the remote so she can turn the volume up.
you know it’s for you and drew, and a part of you wants to nudge her or be offended, and you do. is this going to be normal behavior in the house? turning up the volume just for you and drew when you guys need to have these ‘talks’ that are just screaming practice in disguise?
you’re almost embarrassed but you know that you’d rather have this than let them hear you two upstairs.
you follow him to your room, or technically his room as of three nights ago, and he lets you inside first. there’s a chilling feeling when you realize what’s about to happen and you feel like he’s literally about to murder you.
the room is clean, for the most part. you didn’t doubt for a second that he wouldn’t take care of this room regardless if you’re in it or not. his bed isn’t made and his backpack’s on the edge of it, opened and rifled through.
you look to him when you’ve entered, and he nods toward the bed, as if to say he would rather you sit there while you listen to what he has to say, so slowly, you make your way over and settle down on the edge.
drew pulls out a chair from the desk across the bed and turns it around, pushing it closer to you. you’re surprised that he’s doing a whole setup just to talk to you. maybe he really is going to kill you.
“i haven’t been honest at all . . . since we started talking again,” he begins as he sits down in front of you. you stay there and close your mouth. you want to hear what he has to say, even if it ends terribly. you need to hear what he’s been thinking. “so i’d like to tell you everything about this past year if you’re okay with that.”
you shrug and gesture to let him have the floor. “please,” you insist with a nod.
he sighs as he fiddles with his fingers in his lap. “there’s . . . mila," he starts, and even though you knew this conversation was coming, it still stings when you hear her name.
“i guess you could call it a situationship or whatever,” he says before he catches himself, realizing how that sounds. “i mean, to me, it felt like that. but i think—” he pauses, chewing on his words. “no, she definitely saw it as more. she always viewed it as a relationship.” he glances at you, watching for your reaction, but you just sit there, waiting.
he rubs a hand over his face, frustrated with himself. “we just weren’t on the same page. i was . . . i was using it to distract myself, if i’m being honest. and i know that’s not fair. i knew it even then. but it felt easier than than facing what i was actually feeling at the time.”
he continues, “i told myself it was nothing, but i knew, deep down, it wasn’t fair to her. she didn’t deserve to be strung along like that.”
you feel your chest tighten, but not from jealousy. it’s you knowing that someone else had been hurt in this too, someone who had clearly thought there was more between them. “does she know? about this?” you ask him.
he flinches slightly, as if the concern you’re showing for mila makes this even harder to explain for him. he hesitates, “i officially ended things with her three nights ago. the night you confronted me about her. i told her it was over, that i couldn’t keep pretending things were fine when they weren’t. she didn’t take it well. and honestly, i don’t blame her.”
you’re quiet for a moment—so he’s decided to keep you and him a secret from mila? to spare both his and her feelings? you aren’t sure if you should bring light to it or just push it aside. you did say before that it was ultimately his decision.
“i’m glad you told her,” you say carefully, but there's a pause before you add, "but i can’t imagine how confusing this must be for her.” you shift in your seat, rubbing your palms on your knees. “i mean, from her perspective, this whole thing must feel like it came out of nowhere.”
he swallows hard, nodding. “yeah, it wasn’t fair to her. not at all.”
there’s a beat. he looks at you, his expression more vulnerable than you’ve seen in a long time. “i told her about you,” he says. he’s quiet, as if he’s afraid of the confession. “i told her that i’m . . . that i’m still not over you. that i don’t think i ever really was.”
what?
you blink, startled by his words, though in a way, you’re not entirely surprised. you’ve felt the tension between you two from the moment you started talking again, but hearing him admit it, finally saying it out loud . . .
his voice is rough, like he’s forcing himself to continue. “but that’s why things with mila were never real. not for me, at least. i kept telling myself i could move on, that i could just forget, but every day i’d realize i wasn’t. i couldn’t let go of you.”
“but you broke up with me, drew,” you remind him. “that doesn’t necessarily sound like you’re in love with me.”
“i didn’t break up with you because i didn’t love you,” he says, his brows furrowed. “i do, more than i’ve ever loved anyone else.” his eyes meet yours briefly before dropping to his hands, which he’s fiddling with in his lap. “like, it was the opposite. i felt like i wasn’t enough for you. like i was failing you.”
you feel your breath hitch in your throat, but you don’t interrupt. you sit up on the bed.
he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he speaks. “our jobs, the schedules, the distance . . . it was tearing us apart, you know? and every day, i’d think about how i wasn’t giving you what you deserved. we were supposed to click, supposed to last, but i felt like i was just holding you back.” his voice is quiet, and he rubs his forehead slowly. “and i couldn’t stand the thought of you waiting for me when i could never give you the time you needed. it was eating me alive.”
you stay quiet, but tears prick at the corners of your eyes. his words hit hard, and you feel like everything that was left unsaid was finally coming to light now—there were arguments that could’ve been avoided, the misunderstandings that built up. he was overthinking, spiraling, and instead of talking to you, he made the decision for both of you.
“and i just kept thinking, like . . . ‘she deserves someone who can be there for her, really be there. someone who can come home to her every night’. i wasn’t that guy. i’d go days without seeing you, weeks even, and it broke me.” he swallows hard again, shaking his head. “i convinced myself that you’d be happier with someone else. someone who wasn’t always on some stupid set, always busy.”
your heart aches as you watch him, his guilt written all over his face. you lean forward and whisper, “but you don’t get to decide that for me, drew. we make decisions together. or at least, that’s how it’s supposed to work.”
“i know,” he mutters, his tone regretful. “i know that now. but back then, i thought i was doing the right thing. i thought i was . . . protecting you, i guess. from me.”
you shake your head, wiping at the tears that are now falling freely. “protecting me from you? drew, i never, ever wanted anyone else. i wanted you. i didn’t care about the schedules, or the distance. i would’ve waited, and we could’ve figured it out. together.”
his eyes finally meet yours again, and for the first time, you can see the depth of his regret. “when we broke up, i tried. god, i tried to move on. i tried to find something, you know? but i was always looking for you.” he takes a shaky breath. “every girl i met, i’d compare them to you. i’d look for pieces of you in them, trying to find something familiar, something that felt right. but it never worked.”
you knew he had tried to move on, but hearing that he was always searching for you in others, that no one ever compared. it leaves you speechless for a moment. if that’s what happened, then why invest so much time into mila?
you finally gather the courage to ask, “mila. did she . . . was she like me?” your voice is soft, almost hesitant, but you need to know.
“no,” he admits, shaking his head. “not really. mila was cool, and she’s . . . she’s great in her own way. but no. she wasn’t like you.” he pauses, as if trying to find the right words. "but i remember i wanted her to be."
he didn’t try to replace you with mila, but it was clear that he had been searching for something, anything, to fill the void you left behind. and it never worked.
“no one’s ever going to compare to you, y/n,” he continues, “i realize that now. it took me a while, but i’ll always search for you in everyone, and it’s never going to be the same. it’ll never feel the way it felt with you."
for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re finally getting the truth. the real, unfiltered truth about why things ended the way they did. he wasn’t running because he didn’t care. he was running because he thought he wasn’t enough for you. and now, he’s sitting here, telling you everything he couldn’t say before.
“i’m sorry,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper now, on the verge of crying. “i’m sorry for walking away. for not talking to you about it when i should’ve. i was scared. scared that i wasn’t enough for you, and scared that i never would be.”
you can feel the tears still lingering in your eyes, but there’s also a strange sense of closure. you’ve needed to hear this for so long, to understand why things fell apart the way they did. and now, you finally do.
“i messed up,” he says, “i messed up everything, and i know it. but i never stopped loving you and i’m . . . i’m still in love with you.”
you stay silent, blinking away the burn in your eyes, trying to absorb what he’s saying. part of you feels relief, but another part of you is cautious. you’ve been hurt before like this. by another and by him.
he watches you closely, and it feels like the longer the silence is, the more anxious he gets. “i know this doesn’t fix anything, and i’m not asking you to forgive me or take me back. i just needed to tell you the truth. i needed you to know that mila . . . ? mila was never you. no one is.”
the room feels too small suddenly, too full of emotions that you don’t know what to do with. you take a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts, but all you can manage to say is, “why now, drew? why are you telling me this now?”
his gaze softens, “because i didn’t want to lose you again. not without you knowing the truth.”
you can only look down at your lap. your vision blurs as you try to focus on your fingers, interlocked and tense in your lap, the pressure in your chest is tightening by the second.
you don’t trust yourself to speak just yet, so you hold everything in, to find the right words, but nothing comes out.
when you finally lift your head to look at him, the tears are already pooling in your eyes. you blink rapidly, trying to keep them from spilling over, but it’s useless. without saying anything, he stands up and pulls you into him, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame.
you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding as your face presses into his chest, and it’s like the dam inside you finally breaks. the tears fall freely now, your body shaking as you cling to him, feeling the warmth of his arms around you—something you’ve missed so desperately.
and it’s not just about the last few days. it’s about the past year of missing him, of pretending you were okay when you weren’t. and you can tell drew needed this too. you can feel it in the way his grip tightens, like he’s afraid to let go, like he’s trying to hold together everything that’s broken between you both.
you stay like that for a long time, the sound of your quiet sobs muffled by his chest, his hand slowly rubbing up and down your back as if to soothe the ache inside you. it’s a comfort you haven’t felt in so long, and it is exactly what you’ve needed.
toward the end of it, your face still pressed against his chest, you mumble something, your words half muffled by the fabric of his shirt. he loosens his hold just a little, enough for you to pull back slightly, just enough to breathe. “i . . .” you take a shaky breath, your hands still gripping his arms, and when you finally meet his eyes again, you whisper, “i never stopped loving you either.”
the words hang between you, raw and honest, and as soon as you say them, you see the way his expression softens, like it’s the only thing he’s been waiting to hear.
his lips crash into yours, urgent and insistent. his fingers tighten against the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as if he can’t get enough. his lips coax yours open, deepening the kiss, and he swallows the whimper that escapes you.
his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his lap as he sits back on the bed. he kisses you like he's been starved of you, his tongue swirling against yours, his hands exploring every inch of your face, your neck, your hair. this is what he’s been waiting to do.
his hands trail down to your hips, pulling you flush against him, and he breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips along your jaw, down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “stay with me tonight?”
you can’t get enough of him, and although you know that everything can’t be completely fixed over just one conversation, sleeping and waking up in the same bed as him isn’t hurting anyone.
you nod, a soft smile on your face that causes him to grin. but he pulls away slowly hesitating for a moment, his smile growing a little wider as he reaches past you into his backpack, his fingers rummaging around as if he’s searching for something precious.
you watch him, curiosity bubbling inside you. what could he possibly have?
“hold on,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and filled with warmth, and you smile as you press another kiss to his.
finally, he pulls out a book, holding it out toward you with a look of pure joy on his face. you take a look at it but almost don’t even catch it the first time until a second later. your heart skips a beat as you recognize it—the last love letter.
“shut up,” you say, taking it into your own hands to see if it’s real. and of course it is.
he nods, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “i heard you talking about it with the girls before we left earlier,” he explains, but he knows you can tell already that much. there’s a goofy look on his face as he wipes underneath one of his eyes. “i knew how much you wanted it and i saw a copy in town, so . . .”
“no, shut up. i can’t take this,” you exclaim, feeling tears welling in your eyes. “star.” the words spill out, a mix of disbelief and overwhelming gratitude. it’s not just the gift; it’s the thought behind it that strikes a chord deep within you. you trace the cover with your fingertips as if it’s a treasured artifact.
he watches you intently. “i wanted to,” he assures you. “i heard it, i thought it would mean something to you.”
your gaze shifts from the book to him. “thank you, it does,” you whisper, your voice shaking as you blink out a few more tears.
you set the book aside momentarily, throwing your arms around him once again. the embrace feels like a lifeline. you hold him tightly, your heart racing as you bury your face against his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent.
he wraps his arms around you, holding you just as tightly, as if he’s afraid to let go. the world outside fades away, and in this moment, it’s just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s arms, a bubble of intimacy where everything feels right again.
after a long pause, as you pull back slightly to meet his gaze, you can see the softness in his eyes. “you really didn’t have to do this,” you say again, looking down at the brand new book. “but it means the world to me that you did.”
he grins, “i know it’s just a book, but i wanted to show you that i’m here—like, really here this time.” and you are so glad he is.
“i missed this,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.
he closes his eyes for a moment, and you continue to explore the pages of the book, though your thoughts keep drifting back to him. aw you run your fingers through his hair, it dawns on you how much you've missed this—this connection, this easy banter, the comfort of being together.
“i missed us,” you finally admit, looking into his eyes, and in that moment, everything feels right again. it all floods back to you.
he shifts slightly, leaning in closer, and his arms slide to wrap around your waist as he lays his head on your shoulder to take a look at your book with you, his voice in relief as he mumbles, “me too.”
and you’re happy, it all just feels like your dream again.
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rogueddie · 2 years ago
Text
There are a lot of rumors about Eddie Munson. From his sexuality, to his religion, to him being some sort of supernatural creature.
Steve doesn’t put a lot of merit in most of them. They’re usually just bullshit people make up to entertain themselves with whilst beating down on the weird kid. Steve thinks it’s boring… usually.
He’s seen enough weird things happen around Munson to know that something isn’t right. Something about him is unnatural. And Steve is staying clear out of the way of whatever the hell he is, or whatever the hell he’s messing with.
Unfortunately, his friends haven’t gotten the message.
“Do it at your own house!” Steve complains, though he makes no move to stop them. He’s sure it’s nothing, that it’ll only lead to an annoying clean-up job, but there’s a nagging sense of dread writhing in his gut. “This shit is bull anyway.”
“If it’s bull then what’s the problem?” Tommy counters.
“Because none of you dickheads are going to help clean this shit up!”
“I promise to help you clean up,” Carol says. “There. Problem solved. Right?”
"It's still stupid," Steve mutters, glaring at the janky make-shift pentagram they've made. "And a bad idea."
It's drawn on nine pieces of paper- they wanted to draw it big on the floor, but Steve had but his foot down. He lets them use some of his moms candles as a compromise.
With the lights off, sitting with the two of them in a circle, it suddenly feels too real. Even Carol looks suddenly nervous.
Tommy is the only one still smirking, though Steve is sure that it's forced. His voice shakes a little as he begins reading off the paper he'd torn out a library book. His Latin is clunky.
At first, nothing happens.
Long enough that Carol says, "did you even say it right?"
"Yes, it even has-" Tommy starts.
The candles all blow out, suddenly. The light Steve had left on in the kitchen flicks off too, plunging them into complete darkness.
After a horrible moment, where they're still and silent, Carol yelps.
"Don't grab me, Tommy, that's not funny!"
"I didn't grab you."
"Wh- Steve?"
"No," is all Steve can get out.
"I'm turning the lights on," Tommy says. "This is ridiculous."
Steve listens to his footsteps and, when he sounds like he's almost at the light switch, he yelps.
"Fuck this," he says.
"What the fuck, Tommy!" Carol yells when they both hear him running past them. She's up on her feet immediately, chasing after him.
He wants to scream after them, plead with them to come back, that they shouldn't be abandoning the circle.
But, the same gut instinct that insists he stay where he is, keeps his mouth shut. Everything in his being is telling him that if he leaves, if he speaks first, horrible things will happen to him.
Something tuts, like a parent admonishing a child.
The living room light flicks on, so bright that Steve has to blink a few times to clear away the white spots.
Eddie Munson sits in the space they left empty.
"Someone didn't read the terms and conditions," he snickers.
"What..." Steve pauses, clearing his throat. "What are the, uh... terms and conditions?"
"Oh, they're simple, really. Look," he holds up the page Tommy had read the incantations from, pointing to the little paragraph at the end. "They even translated it to English! But all you need to know, big boy, is that you are A-OK."
"And... Tommy and Carol?"
"Eh, they're fine. Lucky, really. I'm trying to relax up here. I'm only gonna pay them back with a minor curse or two. Nothing lethal."
"Fuck."
"We haven't even got to you yet!" He spins around so hes laying on his belly, resting his chin on his palm. "You didn't technically summon me so you can just tell me to leave... or."
"Or?"
"Deal with no consequence, baby. One wish, whatever you want, free of charge. Well... I'd want your silence about the whole... summoning thing. Let's consider that payment."
He doesn't need his gut or book to warn him that it's a bad idea. Munson could be lying, easily. There could be fine print. It's a bad, very bad idea.
"There's... definitely no consequences? I won't, like, go to hell for this?" Steve finally asks.
"Do some charity work for a week, you'll be fine," he says, waving his hand around. "What do you want, King Steve?"
"Could- could you make someone love me?"
"Oh, ho ho ho! Who's the unlucky lady who said no to you?"
"No, it... it's not like that. I mean, um... my mom."
Munsons smile drops. The temperature drops with it, making a chill run up Steves spine.
"Your mom," he repeats.
"They're busy like, all the time," Steve automatically defends. "And they're barely here so, uh... of course they wouldn't- I mean, it's normal, right? You can't love a stranger or... whatever. It's fine. It's just... I don't know."
"Steve..." Munson pauses.
He groans, throwing his head into his hands, dramatically. He almost immediately flings his head back up, hair flying everywhere, giving Steve wide and pleading eyes.
"I can't make people fall in love or any shit like that. I can make illusions, that's it. Love is, like... way out of my jurisdiction."
"I- I'm ok with an illusion. Like, just one day or something."
"Steve, baby, you're breaking my heart."
"Please?"
"Jesus- ok!" Grumbling, Munson shifts so he's kneeling. "And in return, you won't say shit about any of this. Deal?"
"Deal."
"Great. Ugh. This next part is... weird."
"What do you mean, weird?"
"It's weird, I don't know. Deals about, like, love are sealed with a kiss."
"You're joking."
"Nope, and that's not even the weird part. Now, come on and pucker up, let's get this over with." He gestures for Steve to shuffle closer, waiting until they're sat close enough that their knees almost bump together. "You can still change your mind. Anything at all, Steve. Anything."
"I thought you wanted to get this over with?"
"On your head..."
Munson leans forward, kissing him. It's just a peck, simple and easy. No big deal, right?
Steve feels possessed. It's like someone lit a match in his stomach, leaving him lightheaded and confused. He's not sure how he ends up in Eddie's lap, clutching onto his shoulders, desperately trying to lick into his mouth. He feels so-
He wakes up in his bed, the morning light blinding him.
"What the fuck..." he mutters to himself, grabbing at his throbbing head.
At first, he thinks he's hungover. That he'd just had a weird dream... but he's wearing the same clothes. And, sat on his stomach, is a guitar pic. It's got 'corroded coffin' written on it too- Eddie's band.
"Steve!" He hears his mom call. "Time to get up!"
He scrambles out of bed, dashing down the stairs.
She smiles when she spots him, so bright and warm. She even raises an arm, laughing when he practically throws himself into her side and hugging her tight.
"Morning, sweetheart. Good dreams?"
"Yeah. Yeah, great. But, uh... I feel sick."
"Oh no," she frowns. She puts her hand to his forehead, cooing when she brushes his hair out his face. "Is it your stomach?"
"Yeah. Just... might be better to stay home today. If that's ok?"
"Of course it is. I'm sure we can find something fun to do together, yeah? How about we get a vhs movie, hm?"
"I'd love that."
"Great. Well, if you're feeling up to it, I've made breakfast." She steps away, plating the food she's cooked up. "Oh, did I ever tell you about Paris? It was beautiful, you would have loved it. We should bring you, next time we go."
Steve can't stop smiling. He's sure that his cheeks will be aching by the end of the day.
He'll have to thank Eddie- as soon as he can even think about him without blushing. He'll need to ask if it's normal to still feel... affected, even after the deal is done.
Part of him knows it isn't the deal. Part of him is too curious about how Eddie will react.
2K notes · View notes
1999hiru · 3 months ago
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okay but what about a sorta opposite from your mean!reader nerdy!abby. reader is a total book worm but when it comes to anything outside of a textbook she’s a bimbo. while abby’s set on getting her doctorate and doesn’t have time for anyone but reader wriggles her way dumbly into abby’s heart
- 💐
WAAAA I LOVE THIS ONE OMG … so cute i luv this so bad thank you flower anon !!!!!! i’m kinda obsessed with dumb reader and nerdy abby … but maybe i’m projecting because i’m also quite dumb </3
i made reader more bimbo-y (that is not a word forgive me) and focused on the fact that she’s more interested in books than studies , i hope that’s okay !!!!! <3333
i hope you enjoy !!!!!!!! ^_^ ♡ ♡ ♡
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cw. slightly mean abby, fingering
⋆˙⟡ nerdy! abby and bimbo! reader, a match made in heaven.
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♡ . — ꒰ 1 ꒱
୨୧ you’re obsessed with reading. your shelves are filled with a wide range of genres, from the most intricate fantasy stories to thriller and horror, and even to the most insane smut you’ve ever come across. when you’re not busy shopping or doing your makeup to take selfies, your head is buried in one of your many books for hours. unfortunately, your passion for reading hasn’t transferred to your academics…
୨୧ exam season is coming up, and you haven’t been studying at all! but one quick glance at abby anderson, the well-known top student of your classes, and you decide you need her help. you haven’t spoken to her at all, never in the two years you’ve been attending college, but after your lecture had ended, you confidently approach her wearing your favorite mini-skirt. you have a big smile on your face when you get to her, a little too big, but this was important. first impressions mattered. but abby simply looked at you from head to toe, packing away her textbooks and making her way out of the room without saying a single word.
୨୧ no biggie… maybe she’s just busy, she probably had a lot of things to do considering she had to keep her place as number one. so the next week you see her, you end up following her out of the lecture hall like a lost puppy — she doesn’t respond back to you, even after you offer to buy her a sweet treat from the campus’ cafe, or when you asked if she wanted a study partner. she kept walking to wherever she needed to go. you ended up following, of course. abby wasn’t pleased at all. you could tell from her face, but that didn’t deter you!
୨୧ abby didn’t budge for a while. she told you off one time, something along the lines of “i don’t need an idiot distracting me,” which you took with a grain of salt. maybe all those calculations and body anatomy memorization made her moody. she was always in the library studying, laptop open with lecture slides, her notebook full of notes that you couldn’t even begin to comprehend, even five different pens for differing information. you were lucky enough that she didn’t say anything when you followed her to the library, but it was like you weren’t even there at all.
୨୧ you’re sitting across from her, a book in hand as always, you’re almost halfway done in the time that abby had been studying. you wonder how she can focus for so long without wanting to do something else. but abby thinks the same about you, taking small curious peeks when you were distracted. she wonders how you’re so goddamn annoying about your college work but can read a bunch of big words for hours. beats her, not her problem.
୨୧ abby had enough one day. she invites you over to her dorm room for a “study date” just to shut you up, and almost immediately tells you to sit down when you prance around, touching almost every medal and trophy she has on display. you sit on her bed, a sheepish smile on your face. now that you’re here with her — alone, it makes you a little nervous. you’ve been begging for this, and yet, it makes you blush a little when abby sits right next to you. your arms are brushing against each other, and she’s flipping through her notes while she explains them to you. you weren’t really listening.
୨୧ for the first time, you’ve gotten the chance to get to know abby. her cologne is strong, but not overpowering, it’s just enough to keep you wanting more. she smells good. her hair is always neatly braided. her notes are also freakishly organized, perfect handwriting with different brightly colored titles for every single chapter. you laugh a little, and it confuses abby. she lets out a “what?” with a glare, and you wrap your arms around her bicep, “nothing, just kinda funny that all your notes are so cute when your personality is the complete opposite!”
♡ . — ꒰ 2 ꒱
୨୧ abby who flushes at your comment — cute? no one had ever called her notes “cute,” that was ridiculous. she didn’t have time for your teasing when you were so adamant about your grades being in jeopardy. you chased her around campus, interrupted her cherished library time by poking around, doing absolutely nothing but cross off another useless book from your list. but for some reason your grasp around her, warm and welcoming, made her feel a little weird. she didn’t like that at all. she had no time to babysit some dumb girl that couldn’t even be bothered to pay attention to her! she was using her precious study time to help you, and you were teasing her. nonetheless your jab at her personality. she knew she was cold, distant even. but she needed to be completely focused if she wanted to get her doctorate. she didn’t want to hear that from someone like you either.
୨୧ abby scoffs, pushing you away. she shuts her notebook and sets it to her side, getting up from her place next to you. she lets out a heavy breath before staring right at you. “look, seriously, i have better things to do. if you aren’t going to try then you need to get out.” you’re pouting almost immediately, your eyes finding hers too. glossy and big. abby’s almost exasperated — you’re a grown woman looking at her like that. but the more she stares at you like this, the more she starts feeling the horrible twist of guilt in her stomach. shit, she thinks. maybe i was a little too harsh.
୨୧ she doesn’t want you to know she feels bad, so after a while of your very unconvincing puppy eyes and finding her will power, she sits back down and opens up her notes again. a smile spreads across your face instantly, and abby does her best to ignore it. you’re a pretty girl, dumb and incredibly annoying yes, but so pretty. she would be an idiot if she said otherwise, but she continues on, grumbling a “pay attention this time, no more talking.” you nod eagerly. she can’t help but take a few glances at you when you’re reading over her notes for yourself.
୨୧ you and abby spent the rest of the afternoon going over concepts you struggled with, and abby hates to admit it, but you weren’t so bad. you were smarter than you acted. yeah, you struggled with the most basic topics, but you eventually got them after a while. (with a lot of re-explaining from abby, a heavy sigh from her when you couldn’t answer her questions) you were funny too, and even made her laugh occasionally, but abby always covered it up with a cough. you both had gone through everything you were struggling with, and abby found it… endearing? to see you try so hard. the way your tongue poked out when you were working through a problem, when you scribbled down little mental notes to keep track. she found herself staring at you a lot, embarrassingly enough, and abby tried to keep herself busy when she caught herself — picking up a random textbook from her pile and flipping through it.
୨୧ over the course of exam season, abby was spending a lot of time with you. it annoyed her still, that her carefully constructed routine was suddenly destroyed by some girl that put her energy into fictional literature rather than actual important reading, but she was getting used to it. she even started waiting for you to pack up your things when the lecture ended, slowly putting away her books and electronics just so you had enough time to walk up to her. abby always greeted you with a blank stare, an eye roll if you were lucky, but you’d never know she purposely slowed herself down for you. she didn’t know why either. it’s like her body did it on autopilot, and now her routine consisted of her studies and you. walking to the library together, her telling you to focus when you got sidetracked, plus the lengthy hours of studying in her dorm room. it was her new routine.
♡ . — ꒰ 3 ꒱
୨୧ when abby finally finishes all her exams, she takes a lot of time relaxing in her dorm. she continues reading up on chapters she wanted to smooth over when she hears a small knock at her door. of course, it’s you, and you let yourself in with your laptop held tightly to your chest. “abs, i think i’m gonna die. this last exam is gonna kill me.” abby groans at your dramatics, “do not call me abs,” but she pulls out her little table anyway and you both sit next to each other. you’re pulling up the exam practice questions like clockwork, and you run her through the ones you didn’t understand.
୨୧ you’re almost an hour into it, and abby can tell you aren’t focusing. you’re constantly spacing out, interrupting her to talk about a new book coming out, and you aren’t grasping anything at all. she made a little quiz just for you, and you hadn’t gotten anything right. abby runs a hand through her hair, breathing out a deep sigh. she closes your laptop and places the pen right back into your hand. you stare at her confused.
୨୧ “if you get a question right, i’ll give you something. how about that?” abby proposes, your eyes darting from her own to her lips. abby is a little taken aback, you’re bold, you make it so obvious. but she patiently waits for your answer anyway. “like what?” you reply quietly, and the air is suddenly thick with tension. it’s too quiet.
୨୧ “whatever you want.” abby was done with her own exams. she could afford to be reckless for a little. maybe she’d regret it in a few weeks, but with the way you’re staring at her, the way you’ve been staring at her, she knows exactly what you want. she couldn’t go back now. and abby couldn’t lie to herself either. she was getting distracted — thoughts about what your lips would feel like, what it’d be like if your bodies were so close that she started smelling like your perfume, the stolen glances when you both pretended to be working, she knew. and you knew it too.
୨୧ “then…” you answer, no elaboration, you’re shifting up to tug your shorts down. abby bites the inside of her cheek when she sees how perfectly your panties fit your ass, the material hugging it like it was made for you. she hasn’t taken her eyes off you the moment you moved, and she should be upset at the fact you just discarded your clothes on the floor, messily, but she didn’t care. her hand reached out to touch your hip before she could even realize, caressing you softly. you smile at her, that stupid smile abby insisted was so annoying, before you turn your attention to the makeshift quiz she made for you. abby shuffles closer to see you work, watching as your hand moves to answer.
୨୧ you think long and hard before answering, circling one of the multiple choice answers abby provided. it’s correct. abby doesn’t say it, but her hand moves to slip down the front of your panties. she leaves it there, a hitch in your breath when she’s just over where you needed her the most. the room feels so hot, abby thinks. was it always this hot? you continue on to the second question, your brain working overtime to focus on the right choice — it’s hard when abby’s warm hand is over your cunt, the fact that you’re almost indecent while abby is fully clothed. you throb at the thought.
୨୧ you shakily circle another answer, an approving hum from abby. she shoves her hand in deeper, now moving her fingers up and down your folds. you’re already so wet, and you just barely started. you can feel her watching your every move, peering from right above your shoulder. you go to the third question, one you thought you knew, circling confidently. abby continues her slow pace across your aching pussy, “no, not that one.” you groan, frustrated, she’s going too slow and it’s making you crave for more. your brain is starting to feel fuzzy.
୨୧ you get to question five, and abby had started to move faster, her fingers circling your clit and rubbing at your entrance, teasing, you moan when she rubs over your clit again — “focus,” she mumbles in your ear, continuing her pace. you do your best to. you glance over the answers for the question and circle, abby rubbing at you even quicker. a strangled “abby!” is pulled from your throat, feeling her lips at your neck. “c’mon, next one. you don’t wanna fail, do you?” you shake your head, and with a tighter grip on her pen, you move down to the next one. you’re so wet, and you can hear yourself if you listen close enough.
୨୧ you miraculously answer the next three questions correctly, and when you circle your next answer, it’s like abby was waiting — she pushes a thick finger inside of your waiting cunt immediately, a loud squelch at the contact. you’re gasping, abby pulling you onto her lap so smoothly you don’t even realize, and she’s spreading your legs with ease. she’s thrusting it in deep, slowly, so slowly that you’re squirming at every push. it’s not fast enough, and you know if you don’t get this next one right, she’s going to keep it this way. your head is buzzing, and it takes you four attempts to read question nine properly. you’re circling your best guess, and fuck. abby bites hard into the side of your neck, your hips bucking at the pain. “we went over that, stupid girl..” her mean words should bother you, but you feel yourself clench at the name. stupid, stupid, stupid. maybe you were, but that didn’t matter right now. your neck was stinging with pain and it was making you drip.
୨୧ “guess you don’t wanna come if you’re not taking this seriously?” abby laughs condescendingly, her voice right against your ear. you moan at her tone, and it’s not long before you’re trying to push down on her fingers, wanting to fuck yourself till’ you finish. but abby’s not that nice, never had been, and she completely pulls her fingers out of you. you’re empty suddenly, feeling a glob of slick pour out of your cunt. you’re whimpering, noisy and pathetic. “please, abs i can’t—“
୨୧ abby takes her free hand and grips your chin tightly, turning your focus back to the paper in front of you. it’s blurry, and your grasp on the pen seems to be getting looser. “you have one more, you wanted me to teach you right? so do it. don’t waste my time.” abby lets go of you, shoving two fingers inside of you without warning. it feels like you were shocked, shivers running down your spine. the stretch is painful, so sudden, but you’re clenching so tightly around her that abby can’t help but laugh at you. “it’s just one question, you shouldn’t have been so desperate if you can’t even do this.”
୨୧ tears are pooling in your eyes, your cheeks red from the humiliation. you’re reading over the last question as best as you can, your entire body shaking from the pressure inside of you. abby mutters something along the lines of, “following me around like a dumb puppy, you’re embarrassing” and it makes you wetter. you can’t think straight. you find two words that you recognize and circle the answer you think is right — you can feel abby press a kiss into your hair, “who would’ve thought? maybe you aren’t so fuckin’ dumb after all.”
୨୧ a sigh of relief falls from your lips, feeling abby move inside of you. she’s thrusting into you as roughly as she can now, deep, calling you a stupid mutt in your ear, you’re gripping at her thighs when she continues fucking into your pussy like an animal, digging deep into that spot. you gasp when she brushes over it. “right here, huh? making you feel good here?” she’s curling her fingers up into you, practically bruising it with how hard she’s pressing against it. you choke out her name, moans and whimpers streaming from your lips before you come hard on her fingers. you’re twitching, clenching tightly around her digits, abby’s lips are on yours and she’s licking into your mouth. you can’t feel anything for a few seconds.
୨୧ abby gently fucks you through it, looking over your paper from where you both sat. she smiles down at you, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “not bad, i think you’ll pass.”
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tag list ♡
@hyperbabes
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snowlovrrs · 3 months ago
Text
rain’s embrace | 18+
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pairing: caleb x mc
synopsis: rain’s embrace memory but make it nsfw
word count: 5.2k
cw: afab/fem!reader (she/her), established relationship, mc has stretch marks, some body worship (mc is insecure), cunnilingus, masturbation, riding, dom/sub dynamics, dry humping, orgasm denial, edging, no protection, creampie, cum eating
author’s note: first time posting smut... kinda nervous...
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you stood at the top of the step ladder in your grandma’s attic, searching for an old photo album from high school. caleb was in the attic with you, helping you look, and making sure you didn’t fall down from the step ladder.
“caleb, did you find it?” you asked him as you rummaged through a box that had some old scrapbooks and yearbooks in it.
“nope. are you sure you didn’t lose it when you moved into your dorm?” caleb asked as he walked next to you. “you climbed up pretty high. don’t stumble and fall,” he warned.
“i just tried a box, but i still haven’t found it,” you sighed softly. you were beginning to feel defeated after searching for this stupid photo album for hours.
“why do you need our old high school photo album anyway?” caleb asked curiously. he leaned up against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.
“planning get-togethers is tough after graduation. so i want to make a commemorative album,” you explained while continuing to search the old box.
“keep looking, then. and while you do that, i’m gonna flip through this notebook,” he said, looking at a plainly colored, light pink, hardback notebook. “hold on,” he chuckled as he read the title on it. “account book? since when did you keep a budget as a kid?” he laughed softly.
oh, god. that wasn’t an account book. it was the diary you kept when you two were kids. you’d developed a crush on caleb in high school but of course instead of telling him, you wrote about your feelings in your diary that was disguised as an account book. it was no longer a secret how you felt about him, considering you two were dating, but it would still feel embarrassing if he read your old entries.
“where did you get that?! you better not read it. give it to me!” you begged, the panic evident in your voice.
“why not though?” caleb stepped away from you and held the book above his head so you couldn’t reach it. “caleb!” you groaned as you reached for the book.
he opened the book, much to your demise, and began reading an entry. “dear diary,” he started in a high pitched voice, mocking you. “today caleb and i went to the movies. we saw a horror movie even though i hate them, because i wanted an excuse to hold caleb’s hand. i’m glad that the movie theater was dark the whole time because-” he was cut off when you reached too far and fell off of the step ladder.
caleb caught you when you fell, his arms wrapped around your waist. “i told you you’d fall,” he scolded you lightly. “you’re mean,” you murmured with a small pout on your face.
thunder rumbled outside and the rain splattered loudly against the attic’s skylight, causing both of you to turn your heads. “i guess a storm’s brewing,” you sighed, not wanting to give up your search just yet. “yeah, we should head back downstairs,” caleb nodded. he walked towards the attic door and twisted the door handle, only to find that the door was locked. “damn it…” he mumbled under his breath. “gran really needs to replace this lock,” he sighed before walking back to you. “where’s your phone?” he asked.
“i left it downstairs,” you recalled as you plopped down on the old leather couch. caleb began searching the old boxes for something, but you couldn't quite tell what it was he was looking for. “this attic and i just don’t get along. i always end up stuck in this place,” you recalled the last time you got locked in the attic, but that time you were by yourself. you were young and incredibly scared until caleb came to your rescue.
caleb had a knowing look on his face, but didn’t say anything about it. you quickly noticed it but kept it to yourself. “i think i remember there being some old wrenches in here,” he changed the subject as he looked through the miscellaneous items in the dusty box.
“well, worst-case scenario, grandma comes back tomorrow to save us,” you tried remaining optimistic despite everything. “i can’t wait that long,” caleb admitted. you glanced over at him, a hint of confusion on your face. “why are you more anxious than me? are you scared of the dark or something?” you teased him with a small smile.
“no, i just… i don’t want the same thing to happen to you again,” he explained with a shrug. it was touching, really, how caleb always went out of his way to protect you. even though you insisted you didn’t need him to protect you all the time, he did it anyway. you loved and hated it at the same time. “actually, i remember everything. even how… frustrated you were as you curled up in the corner. tears streamed down your face,” he recalled aloud.
“you don’t need to remember all those details…” you mumbled, your cheeks heating up out of embarrassment. “how are you holding up?” you changed the subject to avoid further embarrassment. “you finally got a break only to end up locked in the attic with me,” you said it like it was a bad thing, but in caleb’s eyes it was better than anything else you two could’ve been doing in that moment. the two of you lived busy lives and hardly ever got to spend any time alone together. he saw this more as an opportunity to spend some quality alone time with you.
“i wouldn’t think of it that way,” caleb chuckled softly, still in search of those old wrenches. “maybe i dragged you into some trouble before.”
you froze for a moment, trying to process what he just said. what did he mean he “dragged you into some trouble before”? was he the reason you were locked in the attic the first time…?
“what?” you asked, kneeling down next to him. caleb looked surprised that you got down on the dusty old floor with him. “when? you look me in the eyes and tell me. right now,” you demanded. caleb couldn’t deny how arousing it was whenever you got bossy like this, but he wasn’t going to mention it for now. he chuckled and turned to face you. “why do i need to do that? you got something in your eye?” he asked jokingly, but you weren’t having it. you were quick to lunge at him and straddle his lap, pinning him back against the leather couch. your arm pinned him down by his chest and he was gently grabbing at you in defeat. “okay, okay,” he laughed at your assertiveness. “so, maybe i was the reason you got locked in the attic back then,” he confessed. “what? how?” you asked.
“when we had just moved here, the bullies and i didn’t really get along, and one day they showed up at our doorstep,” he sounded slightly irritated by the memory, but continued anyway. “i was afraid they would try to mess with you, so i made an excuse to send you to the attic. you’d be safe there at least, and not anywhere near them,” his tone was protective as he spoke. he’d always been this way towards you but you didn’t realize just how protective he really was, even when you were kids. it felt like you two always belonged to each other, always belonged together.
“you actually locked me in the attic on purpose?” you asked, your finger gently poking his cheek and making him laugh a little. “don’t get the wrong idea, pipsqueak. i planned to let you out after i dealt with those guys, but i got carried away. they insisted i become their leader. we were walking around together,” he recalled, his hands finding their way to your waist and squeezing you gently.
“so, you decided to play with your new friends while I was locked in the attic?” you asked with raised eyebrows. your arms wrapped around his neck and you absentmindedly played with his hair while he continued to tell his side of the story.
“well, we ran into a group of kids from across the street. they were looking for trouble, so i took care of them,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “in other words, you locked me in the attic and then went off into battle?” you scoffed. “you don’t have to put it like that… i- i mean…” caleb was clearly a little flustered which made you smile to yourself.
“i could’ve joined the fight too, you know. i always have your back,” you insisted. you leaned in closer and rested your forehead against his, your noses brushing against each other. “why are you always down for a fight? i don’t think everyone dreams of brawling with their friends everyday,” he said playfully, his voice just barely above a whisper.
“that doesn’t mean i’ll lose! besides, you never let me try,” there was a hint of a whine in your stubborn voice as you pulled back to look at him again. “you’ve always treated me like a kid, but i’m an adult now! i can even beat up some of the boys during training,” caleb’s gaze left yours as you spoke. his expression and tone became more serious as he rebutted, “no matter how old you are, i’ll always look out for you. what if you get bullied? or what if there’s an emergency?” his tone made it seem like his word was final, but you were just as stubborn as he was, if not more.
as sweet as it was to have caleb want to protect you, you wanted to prove that you could protect yourself. it made you feel weak when he constantly hovered over you like this. “you’re underestimating me again. i don’t need you to protect me all the time.”
caleb was taken aback by your bold words. what did you mean you didn't need him to protect you? that was his role, right? that was the only thing he felt truly good at, it was how he showed you his love. it broke his heart to hear you say you no longer needed him to protect you from the harsh realities of the world, to keep you safe from danger like he did when you were kids. he tried not to let it show that he was hurt, but his poker face wasn’t very good. his eyes told you everything you needed to know.
noticing the hurt in his eyes, your expression softened. “baby, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it like that…” you apologized as you cupped his face in your hands. he continued to avoid your gaze, a small frown on his face. “please look at me,” you whispered and gently tilted his head towards you. once he looked at you, you smiled softly, your fingers brushing the hair out of his face. “there’s my pretty boy,” you cooed. you admired his perfect features for a moment before leaning in and kissing him apologetically. you were soft in the way you kissed him, but caleb returned the kiss in a more possessive manner. his grip on your waist tightened and the kiss quickly became more intense. it was clear he wanted to do more than just kiss, but you remembered that neither of you knew when josephine would return.
“caleb-” you were cut off with a soft sigh when he started kissing and nipping at your neck. “caleb,” you repeated his name, your tone slightly firmer this time, to which he hummed against your skin in acknowledgment. “gran could be coming home tonight,” you reminded him. you gasped softly at the feeling of him sucking on your neck. it was clear from the way he gripped your waist that he wasn’t letting you off the hook so easily tonight.
“then you’d better hope she doesn’t come back anytime soon,” he mumbled against your neck. his hands found their way under your skirt and possessively gripped your ass. you grabbed his chin and pulled him back in for a heated kiss, making him moan unapologetically against your lips. it wasn’t hard for caleb to turn you on, so you knew you were probably already soaked just from some kisses. he’d definitely tease you for it later, but he really had no right to do so, considering the fact that you could feel his boner poking your thigh.
you fully sat down on caleb’s lap while kissing him sloppily and started slowly grinding your clothed pussy against his hardened cock. he pulled back from the kiss and groaned, his head leaning against the seat of the old leather couch and his face contorted with pleasure. “baby- fuck…” he cursed breathlessly. your knees were starting to hurt from being pressed against the wooden floor of the attic, but you were so immersed in caleb that you didn’t care about the pain. “yeah? does that feel good?” you cooed with a smile. you felt satisfied knowing that he was enjoying this as much as you were. “yeah…” he sighed with a nod, his chest rising and falling as you continued grinding against him. his hands helped guide your movements but ultimately you were the one in control at the moment.
your movements became slightly faster and caleb’s breath hitched in his throat. a pathetic mix of a moan and a whine escaped him. “baby-” he whimpered as he opened his eyes and lifted his head to look up at you. oh, he’s so beautiful like this, you thought. his cheeks flushed, his eyebrows furrowed slightly with pleasure, his jaw hanging open. you wanted to keep him like this forever.
“i don’t- fuck- wanna cum yet,” he admitted, his voice slightly strained. it had been a while since you two had seen each other, which meant it had also been a while since you’d had sex. it made sense that he was already on the verge of cumming in his pants, but you still teased him for it. “already? but i’ve hardly done anything, sweet boy,” you cooed with feigned innocence. he groaned in response and firmly grabbed your hips, forcing you to stop for now. “i need you to sit on my face,” he said breathlessly. of course he wanted you to sit on his face, he loved it whenever you sat on his face.
you didn’t hesitate to stand up and remove your skirt and panties. once the pesky articles of clothing were tossed aside, you pressed your knees against the couch cushions and hovered over caleb’s face. he leaned his head back to look at you and moaned at the sight of your glistening pussy. he thought you were the most beautiful person he’d ever laid eyes on, in every single way possible. in his eyes, you were perfect from head to toe.
caleb’s hands wandered up your bare thighs and encouraged you to sit down. of course you obliged, but you didn’t sit down completely. you were just barely hovering over his face out of fear that you would suffocate him, and caleb was having none of that. he gripped your thighs and pulled you down onto his face, making you gasp softly with surprise. he flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe up your pussy, making both of you moan.
sometimes, you thought caleb ate you out for his own pleasure rather than yours. the way he’d lap at your juices and suck on your clit made you see stars, but you’d swear he was enjoying it more than you with the way he moaned and looked up at you with a lustful gaze.
your hands gripped the back of the couch for support and you felt breathless with how good caleb was making you feel. you looked down at him and saw he was looking up at you, his face flushed from the heat between your legs. “fuck, caleb…” you moaned, one of your hands running though his hair.
his tongue prodded at your entrance and his nose bumped against your clit, making your breath hitch in your throat. you couldn’t control how loud your moans were becoming, and you were relieved that you two were home alone. you watched as caleb’s eyes closed, clearly enjoying fucking you with his tongue. the way your walls clenched around his tongue made him go crazy. he wished he could feel you clenching around his cock like that, but he was content like this for now.
your moans became more and more frequent and high pitched, a telltale sign that you were about to cum. caleb opened his eyes to look up at you again and admired how perfect you looked like this. you felt the heat in your stomach growing by the second, and you were right on the edge when he suddenly lifted you off of his face and forced you to hover over him rather than sit down. confused and slightly irritated, you looked down at him for an explanation. “what the fuck?” you asked him impatiently.
“you said you don’t need me, right? go on, finish by yourself,” caleb challenged. you rolled your eyes at him. he was being ridiculous. “you can’t be serious,” you groaned. “oh, i’m very serious. i’m not going to be the one to make you cum. you said it yourself, you don’t need me,” he repeated. he was being petty at this point. he knew damn well you struggled to get off without his help, and that’s exactly why he was doing this. you tried to sit back down on his face but his grip on you was firm and he was quite strong. “i’m not going to tell you again,” he threatened.
you knew what he wanted. he wanted you to tell him you needed him, but you were stubborn and you weren’t going to give in quite so easily. there were occasions where you did make yourself cum without his help, but it was rare. you were stubborn enough to push your luck in that moment and prove to caleb that you didn’t need him to make you cum.
your dominant hand found its way between your legs and you gathered your wetness on your fingers. your movements were slow at first, the tips of your fingers circling around your clit, before you started stimulating yourself properly. you let out soft moans as you pleasured yourself with caleb watching from below.
after a few minutes, you started getting frustrated. you were right on the edge, you could feel it, but you knew you weren’t going to cum like this anytime soon. you looked down at caleb, who was looking back up at you with a smirk.
“seriously, this is stupid,” you whined. “i would love to help you, baby, but you told me you don’t need it…” he cooed innocently. you groaned as you continued trying several different ways to make yourself cum. you tried playing with your clit slowly, you tried speeding up, you even tried fingering yourself but to no avail.
caleb could see the frustration on your face, and he was beginning to feel triumphant, knowing you would give in before too long. “give up yet?” he asked with a small smirk.
“caleb, please, i’m sorry…” you apologized as you looked down at him. “you know that’s not what I want to hear,” he hummed, his eyebrows raised expectingly. you huffed, feeling defeated. “fine… i do need you, baby, i’m sorry… i do need you, please just help me cum,” you finally gave into him and gave him what he wanted. “that’s a good girl,” he hummed with a smile.
he pulled you back down on his face and got back to work, the feeling of his tongue and lips on your pussy making you shiver and moan loudly. his lips wrapped around your swollen clit and he started sucking gently, and you swore you felt the wind get knocked out of you. it didn't take much longer before you were cumming with a gasp followed by a series of loud moans. caleb couldn't help but moan with you as you came on his face, your cum dripping down his chin. he helped you ride out your high until your legs were shaking and you ran your fingers through his hair, silently asking him to stop. he licked your cum up from your pussy before letting you dismount his face.
“was that so hard?” he asked playfully as you sat down on the couch. “you’re the worst…” you mumbled, watching as he rose to his feet and joined you on the couch. he wiped your essence off of his lips and chin with the back of his hand before pulling you in and kissing you on the lips with a soft hum. he maneuvered you so that you were straddling his lap again as he continued kissing you.
your arms wrapped around his neck and his hands found their way to your waist. he gently pushed up your shirt, a silent request for you to take it off. you pulled back from the kiss only for a moment to discard your shirt and toss it on the attic floor. you leaned in to kiss him again but he stopped you and looked down at your almost-naked body. all that remained at this point was your bra. “let me look at you,” he mumbled as he ran his hands up your sides, causing you to shiver.
caleb’s hands wandered towards your back and went to the hook of your bra. with practiced ease, he unhooked it and tugged the straps off of your shoulders. you let the garment fall off of you and tossed it aside, watching caleb’s expression the whole time.
you couldn’t help but feel flustered at the way he stared at your naked body. it’s true he’d seen you naked more times than either of you could remember, but having him stare at you unabashedly like this always made you feel shy. his fingertips lightly traced over the stretch marks on your stomach and your breath hitched in your throat. “caleb…” you mumbled his name. he didn’t bother looking up at you when you said his name. he was too enamored with the perfectly sculpted body in his lap.
“you are perfect, baby. you know that?” caleb whispered softly. he didn’t give you a chance to respond before he was leaning in and kissing your chest. he was slow and deliberate with his kisses, wanting to be sure that you felt loved and appreciated. he left a few light hickeys along your chest, knowing that only the two of you would be able to see them. caleb was so hard at this point it was honestly painful, but he could wait a few more minutes if it meant making his favorite girl feel beautiful. he made sure to kiss every “flaw” you thought you had. they weren’t flaws to him, though. in his eyes, they added to your beauty, to your perfection.
caleb kissed along your breasts and captured your right nipple in his mouth. you gasped as he gently sucked on it and lightly pinched the other one with his free hand. you threaded your fingers through his hair and arched your back ever so slightly, making it easier for him to access your chest. he alternated between your nipples, making sure both of them received an equal amount of love and attention.
you couldn’t take it anymore, you needed him inside of you. “i need to ride you. like, right now,” you said desperately with a groan. caleb couldn’t help but chuckle at your desperation, but who was he to refuse you when you looked so pretty on top of him like this? “alright, pretty girl,” he hummed, giving into your demand. he was quick to remove his shirt while you unbuttoned his pants and helped him strip. he tossed his shirt aside and lifted his hips, to which you pulled down his pants and his boxers.
once he was completely naked, you couldn’t help but stare at his cock. it was rock hard and so red you knew he must be in pain. feeling bad for him, you didn’t delay any longer. you gently grabbed his hard-on and aligned it with your entrance. the feeling of your wet folds against his tip made him groan and close his eyes for a moment. his hands rested on your waist as you slowly descended onto his length, and caleb swore he could cum right then and there.
you grunted softly as he bottomed out. it had been so long since you two had sex, and he was so big, you needed a second to adjust to his size. you looked down at him and admired the way he looked with his head thrown back on the couch, his cheeks a little pink, his mouth slightly agape. you leaned in and kissed his jawline, trailing down his neck and making him shiver.
once you adjusted to his size, you lifted your hips and slowly descended onto his cock again. caleb couldn’t help but let out a guttural groan, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly. you gently grabbed his face with one hand and kissed him lovingly, moaning into his mouth whenever his cock rubbed up against your g-spot.
caleb felt like he was drunk off of the feeling of being inside of you again after so long. the way your walls clenched around him, sucking him back in over and over again, like you were made for him. he mentally vowed to never go this long without fucking you again.
you pulled back from the kiss and buried your face in his neck, moaning into his ear. as you gradually sped up your movements, caleb was beginning to whimper pathetically while babbling about how tight you were and how good you felt wrapped around his cock. “fuck- you feel so good, you’re so perfect, baby… i love you so much,” he whined softly. eventually, your movements got a little faster, and the sound of your skin slapping against his could be heard throughout the attic.
it didn’t take very long for caleb’s cock to twitch, signaling that he was going to cum. he was trying so hard to hold back because he wanted his consent to finish inside of you. “i’m- please, baby- can i-” he grunted, his voice slightly strained. you understood what he was asking for and nodded, giving him permission to cum inside of you. “go ahead, sweetheart,” you said after kissing below his ear.
only a few seconds passed before caleb was groaning loudly, his head thrown back in bliss on the back of the couch as hot ropes of cum coated your insides. you couldn’t help but moan into his neck at the feeling. you gradually slowed your movements to a halt, and heard him hiccup softly. is he… crying? you thought to yourself.
you lifted your head and saw tears streaming down his flushed cheeks, your expression softening at the sight. “what’s wrong, my love? are you okay?” you asked with concern as you wiped the tears from his face. he nodded, his eyes closed as he continued to cry a little. you gently cupped his cheeks and looked down at him as you spoke. “baby, talk to me,” you encouraged him.
caleb sniffled and opened his eyes before speaking up. “i’m okay… i just… i love you so much,” he whimpered, his bottom lip trembling. your heart swelled at his confession and you couldn’t help but coo at him. “my sweet boy…” you said softly with a smile. you leaned in and kissed him lovingly on the lips, and caleb returned the kiss with an equal amount of passion. “you’re just so full of love, huh?” you teased him with a smile after pulling back slightly. he nodded in response and sniffled before taking a deep breath.
“it’s been so long since i last saw you,” caleb mumbled an explanation. you thought he was so sweet like this, all emotional because he loves you so much. “i know,” you hummed softly, “but we’ll have all night tonight and all day tomorrow to be with each other.”
caleb nodded in response and sighed softly, his body relaxing beneath you. you slowly pulled him out of you, eliciting a soft grunt from both of you, and watched as your combined cum leaked out of you. “oh shit,” you mumbled while catching the fluids on your fingers.
you didn’t want to make a mess on your grandma’s couch, but you also didn’t have anything to wipe the cum off with. caleb took your fingers and put them in his mouth, gently sucking the cum off of them. he looked so pathetic, yet so pretty like this, with tear stains on his flushed cheeks and your fingers in his mouth.
once your fingers were clean, caleb pulled back, releasing them with a soft pop. you smiled down at him and leaned in to kiss him on the lips again. you couldn’t help but hum at the taste of your cum mixed with his on his lips. “i love you,” you mumbled against his lips. he smiled into the kisses and pulled you impossibly closer. “i love you more,” he said with a smile.
once you two were cleaned up and fully dressed again, you laid together on the couch. caleb was on his back holding you while you laid on top of him, your head tucked under his chin.
“hey, pipsqueak,” he spoke up after a few moments of silence. “hm?” you hummed in response, not bothering to lift your head to look at him. “did you really have a crush on me in high school?” he asked with a playful smile. your face heated up when you remembered he’d read one of your diary entries earlier. you lightly hit his chest, making him laugh. “it was a genuine question!” he said defensively.
“…so what if i did?” you asked in response. caleb couldn’t help but laugh at how shy you were acting. “oh, come on, don’t be like that. with the shit we just did, you shouldn’t feel embarrassed about having a crush on me in high school,” he teased you. you hid your face in his chest in embarrassment. “shut up…” you mumbled.
he laughed at you again, thoroughly amused by your embarrassment. “if it makes you feel any better, i had a crush on you too,” he admitted.
you perked up and looked at him with raised eyebrows. “you did? …you’re not just saying that, right?” you asked suspiciously. “no, of course not. why would i lie to you?” he chuckled at your suspicion. “to make me feel better, i dunno,” you shrugged and laid your head on his chest again.
the two of you cuddled on the couch in a comfortable silence until you both drifted off to sleep. the sound of his heartbeat beneath you was a comforting reminder that he was here with you. caleb could sleep easily, too, knowing that you were right where you belonged; in his arms.
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sunniskyies · 10 months ago
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐬 || 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 || 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑
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𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Bill’s schemes try once more to tear you two apart. But Ford swears that nothing will come between you again, not even the end of the world. 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Ford Pines x fem!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Show-typical injury 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Reunion, fluff, romanceeeee 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.9k 𝐀/𝐍: Weirdmageddon time! I know I could’ve written about the date, but I want to wrap this up neatly. Everyone’s support has been amazing, I haven’t written in a while so thank you so much for reading! (I rewatched the Weirdmageddon episodes for this so it should be pretty accurate? Although maybe a tad dramatic but that’s just my flare)
𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒
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It has been a good few weeks since Ford returned. The best few weeks. Even before Ford fell through the portal he was never this romantic, the scientist now reduced to flushed cheeks and soft hands reaching out whenever he saw you. Even when you were a little ways apart, you’d catch him staring at your profile, or coming up from his work just to place a silent kiss on your forehead. You giggle and shove him playfully, but you truly enjoy the little gestures. In return for the vases of wildflowers and cups of steaming coffee you wake up to find on your bedside cabinet, you’ve begun to annotate the books you read, hiding them around the shack for Ford to find. To your delight, when you go down to the basement to touch base with him, you tend to find the book you left the very night before open-paged to the side of his desk.
The man makes you dizzy. Electrified yet soporific, thrilled yet comfortable. Your lives have re-entwined together after far too long apart, and it can’t be more perfect. You will spend the rest of your life with the man you love, safe and content in his arms.
For Ford, he will spend the rest of his life ensuring nothing will come in the way of that happening.
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You were in the forest, swabbing the cheeks of a local colony of redcaps for a research paper on gnomish tuberculosis, when a wave of nausea floods over you. The sunlight pierces, fractured, through your eyelids, a kaleidoscope of colour and madness.
As the feeling subsides, you realise that the wave wasn’t purely physical; there really was a vivid wave of madness washing down the Gravity Falls basin.
As you stand stock still, squinting eyes trying to work out what the hell that was, the notebook in your hand begins to quiver.
Looking down, you’re horrified to see that the bendy little writing pad has sprouted beady eyes and a gaping mouth, and is ripping out its own pages.
“GAH!” You squeal, dropping the notebook like it’s hot to the mossy floor. The loose papers now scattered around must be like some fucked-up version of reproduction for the crazed notebook, because each of them have eyes of their own. They begin swirling towards your ankles, small gnawing sounds being emitted as they bite into your ankles with sharp little teeth.
“EEEE! Get off of me!” You scream, shaking out your legs hopelessly as the pages seemingly multiply, crawling up your legs until your lower half resembles a mummy. Tiny teeth like acid on skin.
The madness continues, your tearing hands useless as you’re cocooned in note paper. Your screams are muffled, and you soon slip into unconsciousness. The last thing you see through the gaps in the paper is a large cross in the sky.
Bill.
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Cool air trickles into your mouth, your aching lungs reacting by attempting to suck every molecule of oxygen from the atmosphere. Choking on the stink of smog, you try to open your stinging eyes and rip the swathes of paper from your skin. Your second pair of hands quickly help you peel the sweat-soaked sheets from your face.
Wait.
“Whoa, whoa dude. Calm down, breathe.” Startled, your cloudy vision tries to focus on the face of the person helping you. His face is shadowed from the soupy, apocalyptic sunlight. His hands are deftly stripping you of your papery scales.
“Who—” Your hand tentatively rubs your throat when your voice comes out a hoarse gargle. “Who are you?”
“Oh, dude! It’s me,” Soos pulls back his hood. “Handyman of the apocalypse, at your service!”
You sag with relief. “Soos! Thank god,” you say, pulling him in for a hug. “Where are we? How… long was I out?” The landscape around you is barren, a strange wasteland.
“I don’t know, ‘found you here just now. We’re a few days into Weirdmageddon, if that helps jog your memory?” Soos replies sympathetically. You must look like a wreck.
“A few days? I— How— How have I survived so long?” The binding around your mouth and nose was surely tight enough to prevent air getting in completely, your body quickly losing consciousness. Your tissue should’ve experienced hypoxia within the first few hours, yet your cognitive functions seem fine. How did you not succumb to asphyxiation? During the period of time suggested, the symptoms of dehydration and exposure would’ve surely exacerbated the danger of this situation exponentially! It’s a paradox of biological resilience! A miracle! “There must have been some sort of supernatural intervention. Bill’s presence in our realm suggests an anomaly, this ‘Weirdmageddon’… I’m just not sure. I’d need my notes, and more data. Surely other people experienced what I did?” You vocalise, rhetorically.
Soos looks a little lost. “I don’t know, dude. But I have been helping stragglers for the past few days, and it seems to me anyone affected by those weirdness bubbles and that wack-o wave recover just fine. I think Bill’s magic things are really just illusions that mess with your brain?” He offered.
“Fascinating,” you murmur. “If only Ford was here, between us he’s the expert in anomalous— Wait, Ford!” You break off, jumping to your feet. “God, where’s Ford? Have you seen him?”
Soos shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I haven’t seen him.” You sag, heart split and stinging like your chapped lips. “But, hey dude, I think we should worry about that later… there are two suspiciously car-shaped dots speeding this way.”
Looking over your shoulder, you see that Soos is correct. Two vehicles are erratically approaching, slamming into each other with thuds that reverberate across the flatland. You hold onto his hand as you wait to face what’s going on; you’re in the middle of the apocalypse, there isn’t anywhere to run if there’s trouble. You have to face it head on.
“Not-Mrs-Pines?”
“Yes, Soos?”
“You were totally nerding out just now,” he says. “You and Mr. Pines are really perfect for each other, y’know?”
You smile softly. “Yeah, we are, aren’t we?”
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𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫
Bill laughs through Ford’s howls, unrelenting as the man is bombarded by electricity. “Ready to talk now?” The demon cackles, Stanford limp in the shackles around his wrists.
Ford’s voice is husky, body spent, but he is equally as resolute. “I won’t. I won’t let you into my mind!”
Bill rolls his eye, spinning to survey the minions crowded around him. Pointed tongues slide hungrily over teeth, gleaming talons fidget eagerly. “What do you think pals? Another 500 volts?!” The triangle calls. His kinsmen jeer in response.
Bill raises a finger, sparks flickering on the tip. As he lowers his arm to direct it at the dying man, a thunder shakes the chamber. His body rotates, form quickly turning red as he sees that blasted Mystery Hack interrupting his interrogation. Large animatronic arms and legs have turned the building into a Demon-Quasher-3000. Who do you think you are?!
You're standing at one of the small windows, Mabel’s friend controlling the limbs via a motion capture suit. You’re her eyes, telling her what to do from your viewpoint. 
“Candy! 8-Ball on your ten o’clock!” You shout.
With a grunt, Candy takes him out with a powerful swing. For the first time since Dipper, Wendy, Soos and you regrouped and found the Mystery Shack, faith flares in your chest. The machine is working! We’re coming for you, Ford.
McGucket’s monstrosity really does work perfectly. One by one it picks off the interdimensional hellspawn, craters appearing in the wasteland’s dry earth. You clutch the windowpane tighter with every jolt, knuckles pale. At one point your eye catches them, lingering on your ringless finger. For the second time in your life, you think about how as soon as you get yourselves out of here, Ford better get his act together or you’ll get down on one knee yourself!
Up in Bill’s palace, the demon is livid. “One job! They had one job!”
Ford’s body has perked up, eyes shiny with hope. Bill does not miss this, eye narrowing as he examines the man.
“Well,” he drawls, “would you look at that! Those playthings of yours really care about you. And you care about them, don’t you!?”
Ford’s breath catches. “What are you— No. Oh, no!” Sweat beads on his forehead, fists clenched and trembling. Bill Cipher, however, was quivering with barely contained glee.
“Perhaps torturing those kids will make you talk!” He taunts giddily, floating behind Ford and gently lifting his chin to point his gaze at the Mystery Shack. He leans into his ear, “or… say, Fordsy, how about that doll of yours?”
“No, not her! Cipher, you can’t—” Ford’s cry is silenced as he turns gold inside out, his shimmering figure a cruel contrast to the horror twisting his features.
“You don’t tell me what to do, Sixer.” Bill says, not looking back. Looking out at the shack malevolently, he cracks his fingers. “Now. Let’s get this over with.”
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A chill washes through you as you enter the chamber, behind you the Mystery Shack attempts to ward off Bill. You brace your legs as your vibrant parachute sets you down on the concrete, but you still fall over.
“Plegh!” You bite your tongue as your jaw hits the floor, and you lay still for a moment waiting for the breath to return to your body.
“It looks even worse in person,” you hear Dipper say. Looking up, you see he’s right. A throne of petrified corpses looms above you, the townsfolk’s pupiless faces staring out. You immediately look for Ford.
“Ford? Can anyone see him? Is he in a separate room?” You immediately start questioning, hauling yourself to stand and looking around. The cracks in your heart deepen. “Ford?”
Mabel grits her teeth, “on it!” She raises her grappling hook, pulling her up to the dias.
A moment goes by, and then another. Your heart is almost done crawling up your throat when Mabel calls out.
“I found him! He’s golden!” Her face peeks over the edge. “But… not in the good way!”
Mable disappears again, and Dipper is quickly helped up to join her. The rest of the team agrees that you’re the next to go.
With the help of a grappling hook and four twelve-year-old hands, you join them at the top. 
There, on the arm of the throne, is the love of your life, gilded and frozen in time.
“Oh, Ford!” You croak. Dipper places a reassuring hand on your arm. You smile back at him, bravely stepping forward to try and get Stanford out of this mess.
The twins quickly notice a young boy trapped in a cage, his shoes clinking against the suspended metal floor. While they discuss something, you examine the base of the throne, squinting skyward as you try to find a way up.
While studying the structure, you fail to notice the twin’s warning before it’s too late. One victim is pulled from the edifice, and the entire thing begins to collapse. Your shout of surprise is swallowed as a cascade of bodies covers you, burying you in the screaming mass.
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Disturbed by the chaos, the golden stature of Ford Pines is released from its curse, his body doubling over from relief. Dipper and Mabel quickly locate him, rushing to his side to support him.
Ford coughs, the pain from the electrocutions still ailing him. “Kids! Thank heavens you’re okay!” Despite himself, he scoops them both up, hugging them tightly.
“Great Uncle Ford! We’ve got him distracted, but Bill could get here any minute! You said you knew his weakness..?” Dipper asks.
“Yeah! A secret way to defeat him?” Mabel chimes in. Ford pauses.
“Yes, I do. But— kids, where’s ____?” Ford asks, dread leaching into his features as his eyes dart around.
Dipper’s face pales, his eyes darting toward the remnants of Bill's psychotic throne. “I... I don’t know. She was with us a moment ago.”
“She was here?!” Ford cries, hastening over to the wreckage. A thousand unknown bodies are searching around for their loved ones, but Ford’s eyes are only looking for you. His voice carries above everyone else’s cries, your name echoing the loudest through the chamber. Frantic hands part bodies, his search not sparing a second to apologise for treaded-on fingers or too-rough shoves.
Little did Ford know you were 538 bodies away on the other side of the carnage, battered and bruised, trying to muster up a cry loud enough to ask for help. There are too many people on top of you, and every effort you give to rise to the surface is hopeless as others tamp you back down in their own attempts.
Buried and afraid, your last hope is to peel off Ford’s red turtleneck you’d been wearing and try to use it as a beacon. You’d put it on upon reaching the Mystery Shack, as it still smelled like your beloved’s scent of pine, parchment, and ink. Now, you ball it up in your fist and use all your energy to push it through the tumult, its scarlet fabric disappearing to the surface.
You curl up into a ball, eyes scrunched shut as you wait for unguaranteed help. You don’t even know whether Ford got saved…
“Great Aunt ____!” The twins call, nimbly hopping through the human rubble. People are slowly recovering and dispersing, only a few pockets are left.
“____?” Stanley echoes without much conviction, internally battling the helplessness he feels. However, his brother’s search grows more frantic with every passing minute. Ford felt he was going mad at the thought of losing you, not after finally getting you back.
A flash of red hauls him immediately from his spiral.
“The sweater!” Mabel’s excited voice repeats his thoughts moments after. “That’s her sweater!”
In retrospect, Ford never remembers travelling over to it. He just remembers picking up the turtleneck, looking around for your face. He remembers his hands wrapping around you and hauling you into his arms. He remembers pressing a messy kiss to your lips, eyes brushing over your form for injury.
“My dearest,” he mumbles quietly into your hair, his eyes closed as his skin presses to yours. You're too exhausted to cry, but Ford holds you as if you are. He’s a restless soul, hands always fidgeting for a new project, so when you hug his fingers are always moving; gentle swirls on your lower back, combing through your hair as you kiss him. You sink into this familiar touch, hoping that he understands your wordless relief by the way your fingers trace his jaw, sinking to smooth then grip his coat’s lapel.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you murmur eventually, looking up into his face. The shadows from your youth have reappeared beneath his eyes, his hair is mussed, his jaw bears a rough shadow. Your eyebrows crease. “What did he do to you,” you whisper.
His eyes are weary, yet they look at you so very softly. “Please, let’s not talk of him right now.” He gently takes one of your hands from his chest, delicately cupping it like a precious stone. His eyes don’t leave yours while he presses his lips to your knuckles. His hand lingers, thumb brushing over your fingers thoughtfully. “Do you know what else I was retrieving from the alien bunker? The afternoon the rift cracked?”
You’re taken aback by the abrupt change of subject, and the deepness swirling in Ford’s pupils. It’s like he’s staring straight through you. Hesitantly, you humour him. “You mean, other than the adhesive?”
Ford hums a confirmation, eyes still glued to you.
You’re trying to think, but his finger swirling absently over the top of one of your left fingers is awfully distracting. “Mmm… I don’t know, honey,” you attempt.
He smiles again, bringing you in for another kiss. Your head is swirling, but before you know it Ford is sinking down to the floor, your hand still resting in his large, warm palm.
He lets out a timid, breathy laugh at the look on your face. You’re slack jawed, staring at your beloved (who has always been much taller than you) bowed on one knee before you.
“Sweetness—” He is interrupted by a sound escaping your lips. “—Sweetness,” he continues fondly. “Before I met you, I was a mess. A terrible, unravelled mess that you carefully wove together.” Your spare hand goes to cover your mouth. “It’s been thirty years since I was last torn from you, thirty years since I fell through that portal while you, my heart, were holding the end of my thread. As I fell through the heavens, I came undone, and quickly comprehended how much I need you, ____. I’m—I’m not as smooth with words as others, but… what I’ve been meaning to say from that moment is… you’ve loved me at my best and my worst; And I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life trying to be deserving of that.”
With impressively little fumbling, Ford reaches into his interior pocket and extracts a glimmering silver ring, a rich burgundy stone set into it. As it shimmers you swear you see galaxies of stars swirling within.
“Oh Ford,” you breathe, reeling.
“I don’t want any more close calls. ____ __ ____, will you ma—” the rest of the question is mumbled against the lips you press to his, your body crouched down to wrap your arms around his neck. Somewhere in the torrent of kisses that precede, a ‘yes’ is uttered and a ring is blindly slid onto a finger, but really. It’s the end of the world and you just want to kiss your fiancé.
“If we’re all about to die, I’m glad we’re doing it together.”
Ford’s eyes harden defiantly. He rises to stand, offering you a hand to pull you up. “I won’t let that happen.”
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𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @sleeplessdreamer14 @2hiigh2cry @taffycandyqt @papi-machucha @muffin1304
@snake-in-a-flower-crown @shadowsandswords @darling-eos @bloodspatteredprincess @yasuuuudere
@space1crow @fries11
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© sunniskyies 2024, do not repost or translate my work
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httpvomitello · 2 months ago
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Tom Holland Peter Parker x y/n
Every time Peter looked at you, it was like the chaos of his double life faded into the background.
I hope you like it ~ ♡♡
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Where It’s Quiet .。*・゚゚
Summary: When Peter Parker looks at you, it’s like the noise fades.
peter parker x f!reader
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Peter Parker’s life was split in two.
There was the public version: college student, intern, quiet nerd with a sweet smile and permanently messy hair. The one who showed up late to lectures and forgot his own birthday sometimes.
And then there was the other version: Spider-Man. Defender of Queens, of Brooklyn, of people who had no idea their friendly neighborhood hero was just a tired guy who lived off dollar pizza and caffeine.
But then there was a third version.
One that only showed up around you.
He didn’t quite understand it at first. Just that… every time he saw you, something in his chest unclenched. Like he could breathe a little easier.
You weren't flashy. You weren’t part of the hero life. You were just—you.
And somehow, that was everything.
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It had been raining.
Peter had ducked into a bookstore for shelter, soaked and shivering, with no intention of buying anything. You had been behind the counter, flipping through a paperback and sipping hot chocolate from a chipped glass that said 'Fight Me, I Read Classics.'
He smiled at the glass before he smiled at you.
You looked up. “Need a towel or a copy of War and Peace?”
“Do either come with a working umbrella?”
You tilted your head. “I’ll throw in the sarcasm for free.”
That was the beginning.
You weren’t exactly friends, not right away. Just familiar faces in the same places. You started remembering his coffee order. He started remembering which books you’d already read. You teased each other. Laughed. He’d linger longer than necessary just to hear your voice.
And each time he left the shop, the weight of the world felt a little less sharp.
It terrified him.
Because Peter Parker didn’t get to have normal. He didn’t get to have peace.
But somehow, when he looked at you—really looked at you—the chaos faded.
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You were on your lunch break, sitting on the edge of a low brick wall outside the bookstore, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, chewing the end of a straw. Peter had dropped by under the guise of “just being in the neighborhood,” which was obviously a lie, but you let him pretend.
“So,” you said, nudging his knee with yours. “Are you ever gonna tell me why you always look like you haven’t slept in three days?”
He blinked. “I look like that?”
You gave him a knowing look.
Peter hesitated. “I just… have a lot on my plate.”
You didn’t push. You just nodded, taking another sip of your drink. “Well, maybe take something off. The world won’t end if you let yourself breathe.”
He looked at you then.
Really looked.
And something in his chest moved.
He hadn’t even noticed how tightly wound he’d been until you said it.
“Maybe,” he murmured.
It was late. You were closing up, and he was helping—just because. You stacked books. He sorted receipts. You didn’t talk much, but the silence wasn’t awkward. It was easy.
At one point, you stood next to each other behind the counter, only inches apart. Your arm brushed his. Your eyes met.
Something clicked.
Peter swallowed hard. “You make it easier. Just so you know.”
You tilted your head. “Make what easier?”
“Breathing.”
Your face softened. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
The tension was there. Barely restrained. His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you. Yours curled into your sleeves instead.
He didn’t kiss you.
Not yet.
But he thought about it the whole subway ride home.
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Everything went wrong.
A weapons deal in the Bronx. A warehouse full of armed men. Shouting. Smoke. Peter barely escaped with a bruised rib and a broken comm.
He got home at three a.m., bleeding and exhausted, hands still shaking from adrenaline.
He should’ve slept.
Instead, he pulled out his phone. Opened your contact. Stared at the screen.
Then typed:
“Are you awake?”
A minute later:
“Yeah. You okay?”
And without thinking, he replied:
“Can I see you?”
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You opened the door in an oversized sweater and pajama shorts. No makeup. Hair a mess. Peter stood there, looking wrecked.
You didn’t ask anything.
You just pulled him in and shut the door.
He sat on your couch in silence while you made tea. His eyes were red. His knuckles scraped.
“Rough night?” you asked softly, handing him a mug.
He gave a humorless laugh. “Something like that.”
You didn’t push.
You sat next to him, curling your legs under yourself. “You don’t have to talk.”
He looked at you, and for the first time that night—maybe the first time in days—his shoulders dropped.
“I just needed to be here,” he said.
“You are.”
You were leaning into his side, head on his shoulder, listening to the city breathe.
“I should go,” he whispered.
You didn’t move. “You don’t have to.”
He looked down at you. His fingers found yours.
And then—slowly, carefully—he kissed you.
It was soft. Gentle. Like he was afraid you’d disappear if he leaned in too much. Like he needed to be sure you were real.
When he pulled back, his voice cracked.
“You make everything feel quiet.”
You smiled. “And you make everything feel loud.”
He laughed, kissing your lips again. “Good loud?”
“The best kind.”
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prosypepper · 11 months ago
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deadbeat, pt.2 - toji fushiguro
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pt. 1
synopsis: still too stupid and selfish for anything good to happen.
word count: 1.9k
warnings: more angst, sort of comfort from the last part, more fighting, one (1) paragraph describing sex, toji breaks into your house, megumi is your baby, unneeded plot twist at the end, really bad writing again. (18+ mdni!)
notes: i really had not a clue for what to do as a part 2, so i stuck with canon events (kinda). i hope u like it :) please go read part 1 before reading this! it's at the top of the post! much love!!
masterlist
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“megumi, stop running away from me!”
 footsteps patter against the grass as your 1-and-a-half-year-old son tries to escape you. you laugh and chase him for a little while before scooping him up in your arms. he babbles and whines, now unable to run freely, but you tell him you need to cook dinner.
a year and some months have passed since toji kicked you out. you haven’t looked back since. you’d bought a house after getting a new job, it has a beautiful back yard and enough space for you and megumi to grow freely.
the only traces of toji left in your life was the dingy wedding ring he bought – that now laid somewhere in your jewelry box – and your son, who looked just like his father. toji’s genes absolutely outshined yours in the boy. however, you were able to look at megumi with more love than anything else in this world, despite what his deadbeat father did to you.
at the end of each day, after megumi goes to sleep, you enjoy spending a few hours to yourself, watching whatever tv drama or reading a book. after you put megumi down for bed, you stay in the room for a few minutes to make sure he falls asleep, safe and sound. and when you make your way back to the living area, a scene is in front of you that stops you in your tracks.
toji.
toji’s sitting on your couch, somehow broken into your house, and he’s looking right into your eyes. you can’t move. you can’t speak. you can only stare at toji as the uncomfortable silence fills the air more and more.
“wh-,” you stutter, anything other than the small noise unable to come from your lips, and you begin to back away slowly.
something had changed with you. since you’d left toji, a certain fear grew in the back of your mind, because toji was a dangerous person, after all. you had prayed things would be left alone, because you and megumi were just fine by yourselves, and toji is the one that told you to get out. the once fearless person you were was no longer there.
and the person that scared you the most was sitting in your living room.
“hey,” toji says, cutting the anticipation in the air, “don’t back away from me.” his words stop you once more.
“toji,” you mutter, saying his name again, something toji had longed for, “why…are you here?” you ask him, shoulders beginning to relax.
“i wanted to see my wife.”
toji’s nerve immediately angers you. you weren’t his wife anymore when he kicked you and his own son out of his house. you weren’t his wife when he cheated on you that night, either. you haven’t been his wife for well over a year. the divorce hadn’t been finalized yet, and you soon know why, when your eyes trail down to the coffee table and see the neat stack of papers you had sent toji months ago.  
“i’m…i’m not your wife anymore, toji,” you sternly tell him, crossing your arms over your chest. the fear you once had quickly fades, now replaced with nothing but anger – the same anger you’ve had for toji since you left his apartment.
“i haven’t signed the papers yet,” toji retorts, “and i won’t.”
rage boils up in your chest at his words. and the audacity he has to break into your house and declare you as his wife pisses you off even more.
“get the hell out of my house, toji,” you demand, pointing a finger towards the door – just as he did to you.
toji only crosses his arms in return. he doesn’t budge.
you stomp over to toji, leaning down and grabbing the collar of his shirt in your fist, “you’re the one that left me, you bastard,” a new strength makes its way into your arm as you tug on his shirt, forcing him to stand up, dragging him towards the entrance of your home, “get the hell out of my house!” you try and throw toji towards the door, and he stumbles over his feet for a second before regaining his balance.
too many emotions are running through you for you to act rationally. tears sting your eyes as you watch toji stand there, looking at the ground, a cold expression across his features. one of his fists is balled up. veins pop out of his arm. you lean against the wall in the walkway leading to your door, slowly sliding down until you’re on the floor. you bring your knees to your chest. tears slide down your cheeks.
toji takes a step toward you and crouches down so he’s on the same level. he reaches a hand out to cup your cheek, it’s the softest he’s touched you in a long time. you want to cower away from his touch, but all the feelings you tried so hard to push deep down — all the anger, all the sorrow, all the hurt, all the love — come rushing back into you at lightning speed.
toji’s dark pupils dilate as you look into them. he gives you once small look of vulnerability, something he hadn’t even done when you were married to him. he takes a thumb to wipe away one of the tears.
he’s sorry.
the words dare not come out of his mouth, but you can see, toji is sorry.
you break.
a small whimper leaves your lips, and you throw yourself into toji, wrapping your arms around his neck. his strong arms engulf you again.
“you…asshole,” you cry into his shoulder, tears coating the fabric of the shirt you almost ripped off of him. there are no smart remarks or retorts from the man, he knows, he just knows how much he hurt you.
the pain he put you through was inevitable.
as you continue your sobbing, a different cry comes out from down the hallway. toji’s head perks up at the wailing. it’s as if your baby knows exactly what is happening.
“it’s megumi,” you sigh into toji’s chest, quickly pushing the man off you. he stands up and helps you stand along with him. toji trails behind you as you enter megumi’s room.
there’s a look of unease on his face as he watches you pick your son up and hush him, whispering sweet words to him and combing his hair with your fingers. toji can see the resemblance to himself, how his child has the same eyes, same nose, same hair, even the same tiny eyebrows. he watches you bounce megumi on your hip, slowly settling the baby’s emotions, making him tired again in the process. as you cradle the almost asleep baby in your arms, you notice toji’s uncomfortable gawking.
“do you want to hold him?” you ask toji, voice still a little uneven when you talk to him. he hesitantly nods his head. you hold the slumbering baby out, coaching toji on the most adequate way to hold the boy.
it’s a sight to see, toji holding his mini-me, bolstering the baby in his arms. toji gives you a proud look, like, “i’m actually doing it!” but of course, his emotions go no further than the look on his face. he is content holding his son in his arms, he could stay that way forever, he thinks. his scarred lips curl into a frown when you tell him he needs to put megumi back down to sleep, but begrudgingly, he hands the boy back to you to settle him in his crib.
you and toji make your way into the kitchen, a much bigger space than what was in his apartment. the conversation you tried to outrun by crying and being angry is no longer able to be looked over. toji is left in the room with you, just you. toji sits in one of the chairs at the small dining table, you lean against the counter, across the room from him. awkward silence takes up the space between you.
“why are you here, toji?” you ask the man, stirring a spoon around in a mug of whichever tea you like best.
toji rests his elbows on the back of the chair, looking everywhere but at you, “i…just wanted to see you and the baby,” he weakly admits, although, you aren’t sure if you can trust his words. inside your heart, you so desperately want him to be telling you the truth, but he hasn’t earned your trust, he hasn’t done anything to do so.
you focus your attention on the cup of tea, still furiously stirring away, as toji gets up from the chair and slowly steps towards you. it feels like hours pass as he walks over, but eventually, he’s close and trapping you against the counter. an unsteady hand sets the mug down behind you, careful not to spill the hot substance on the either of you, and you stare toji right in the eyes, seeing a tiny look of lust.
after all the time that had passed, toji could no longer peel away the emotions he felt for you. he could no longer cover them up, remain cold, and stay mean. he needed you like this. he needed that person that took a chance on him, and he knows that no one else ever will be as courageous as you were when you asked him for his number that day.
toji leans in, and presses his lips to yours, giving you a light kiss that you hadn’t had in so, so long. you close your eyelids at the contact. once again, you wrap your arms around his neck, fully embracing the contact with him – god, you missed him. you missed your husband.
his hands find their way to your waist, he’s feeling you up and down, taking his time to touch all the crevices he remembers so well. intimacy. toji couldn’t find that with anyone else but you. it doesn’t take long for things to lead up, and toji’s carrying you to the bedroom, softly laying you down on the bed as you two rip each other’s clothes off.
toji makes love to you that night. it’s not fucking, or just sex, it’s a deep connection this time, so close, so cherished. more sentimental than all the months he spent with you beforehand. his hands are all over you, his eyes never leave your face, he makes sure it feels the best for you and him. hours and hours pass by, and the whole encounter feels like a moment, a dream, something so unreal that toji thought he could never have.
you fall asleep nestled in toji’s arms, the both of you naked and sweaty, and loved. a satisfying conclusion to the night. he waits for you to doze off first, and he watches the rise and fall of your chest as you so easily fall into a slumber, next to him.
maybe it wouldn’t be a good thing later down the line, maybe allowing him back into your life will end up being a mistake again. you aren’t sure if he will even be there by the time the sun rises. toji isn’t sure this will stay permanent, his thoughts of running away cloud his brain as he watches his wife sleep next to him, so peacefully. he doesn’t know how long he will stay.
but, neither one of you really care.
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toji’s eyes shoot open at the familiar sobbing of a baby. he sits straight up, covered in sweat, as if a nightmare had just ensued.
the bed is empty, he’s alone…and he remembers he’s been alone. you’ve been gone, for many months now, gone in a way you’re unable to return from.
it wasn’t a nightmare, no.
it was all a dream.
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chaaistained · 3 months ago
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what’s your internship like? (in your better cr)
page turners
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.
.
.
you can’t blame me for wanting to live in a world where society doesn’t reserve value and recognition to only be rewarded if you follow the standard, left brained, logical mindset of stem and maths and science and technology — and this is coming from someone who loves those very subjects and excels in them — i’m very much a maths lover, i enjoy solving logical problems, it brings a satisfaction that cannot be described, and yet . i don’t feel as alive as when i’m writing, when i’m reading, when i’m analysing, pulling apart, breaking down the intricate threads of thought that make up a story, or an essay, or a poem
my mind may find satisfaction in solving page after page of algebra, but my soul will only find its spark when i give in to emotion and empathetic analysis, and for that very reason, i scripted a different degree for my dr-self, and with that came a different internship in a publishing company that does not exist in this reality — Page Turners
in my dr at the midpoint of my first year in uni, i had gotten into a year long internship at a government office, hired because of my degree in entertainment law majoring in copywriting
but i have a double degree, my second being a degree in arts majoring in literature and creative writing, and i always knew i wanted a more creative job, rather than the technical, legal side of the publishing industry (no matter how well it pays)
so at the end of my first internship, i started exploring different avenues, and Page Turners was brought to my attention (ironically, by my english tutor from high school)
they advertise mainly to young writers, they have an open submission for a monthly online magazine, curated by a theme (think dakota warren’s nowhere girl collective but only focused on writing — whereas dakota includes submissions for art and music too)
Page Turners wasn’t hiring anyone who hadn’t gotten a full degree but with the help of my ex-tutor (and ex-boss bcs i used to mark papers for her every now and then) i was able to make a case for an internship position
it took a while, a whole year in fact, but Page Turners thought that a way to reach the youth would be to start as early as possible and the best way to do so is by implementing internship programs into their business plan — essentially, my drive to work in the creative field (and mostly due to my connections bcs networking sucks but it is everything) i was able to convince an up and coming publishing house to start hiring students, who may be exactly like me, just waiting for the opportunity to do something creative
i haven’t scripted much on the actual internship program and what it entails but i get accepted and start working at the beginning of my third year (honestly year 3 of uni has a lot of firsts for me — first longterm internship, first boyfriend who i can actually see a future with, first new car, first youtube play button for my anonymous cover channel w two of my high school friends — theres probably more but i don’t wanna sound cocky T^T)
anyway, back to the point — my internship essentially allows me to explore the workings of a publishing house, and with my background in copy write law and creative writing, i’m able to dabble in many different divisions and subdivisions, getting a chance to see how the writers, lawyers, agents and editors work — it’s where i find my passion for developmental editing : the profession of assisting with the creative process of a book, primarily a novel, where you go through a synopsis, a story board, and the overall themes and acts of the story, it’s less about the in-debt typo-prevention of editing and more about the overall narrative — stuff like helping to pivot the story or guide the plot in a certain direction to achieve everything the writer hopes for, or, my personal favourite and my special skill if i do say so myself which is patching up plot holes to be seamless and make sense
finally, this internship, the people i worked with, they are the reason i felt confident enough to go back to uni and do a postgrad degree for a masters in creative writing and a specialisation in editing, so i could officially work full time as a developmental editor
meaning i could read and write and help create stories for a living
.
.
.
if i ever script more or after i’ve properly experienced this internship, i will definitely update this post, or just make another one!! but for now, this is all i’ve got <333
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cuppa queries; order in — ask responses
2025 © chaaistained
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sturniololuvz · 21 days ago
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What exactly went down when daisy's mom left? Like what all happened that day?
(I absolutely adore this au)
🍼teendad!chris
Chris didn’t think that kind of silence could exist in a hospital room.
No crying. No yelling. No relief. Just that horrible, thick silence right after everything had happened — and nothing made sense yet.
He was still holding his breath.
The nurse had just left. Daisy was swaddled up in a bassinet next to the bed, impossibly small, face red and scrunched up from just entering the world. Chris kept looking over at her. He couldn’t believe she was real. That she had his nose. That she existed at all.
And then there was her mom — lying in the bed, facing the wall.
She hadn’t even looked at Daisy.
Chris sat in the corner chair, still wearing the same hoodie he’d pulled on at 2 a.m. when she called him saying it was time. His heart had been racing the whole drive to the hospital. He thought this was gonna be a beginning. Not the end.
“You’re really not gonna hold her?” he asked, his voice quiet, like even he wasn’t sure he should be speaking.
She didn’t answer right away. Then, still facing the wall, she whispered, “I can’t do it, Chris.”
He stared. “What do you mean?”
“I thought I could. I really thought I could do this. But I can’t be a mom. I don’t want to be a mom.”
Chris’s chest tightened. “But… you are. She’s here.”
“I know. That’s the problem.”
She finally turned to look at him, tears in her eyes. Not dramatic ones — just the kind that came from too many months of pretending she was okay.
“You’re better at this than me. You’ve already been trying, I’ve seen you buying diapers, freaking out about bottles, reading all that baby book stuff. I haven’t even picked out a name.”
Chris swallowed hard. His stomach dropped. “So that’s it?”
“I’m not built for this,” she said, voice breaking. “But you are. And she’s lucky to have you.”
And with that, she sat up. She didn’t kiss Daisy goodbye. She didn’t ask to hold her. She just signed her part of the birth certificate paperwork — and left.
Chris didn’t cry right away. He sat there frozen, staring at the door she walked out of. He wanted to scream, throw something, chase after her and demand she take it back — but instead he walked over to the bassinet.
Daisy was awake now, blinking slowly like she didn’t know what to make of the world.
“Hey, it’s just me now,” he whispered, picking her up for the first time as her only parent. His arms shook a little. She was so light, but she felt like the heaviest thing he’d ever carried. “I got you. I got you, baby girl.”
And when she whimpered and nuzzled into his chest, something inside him cracked open.
That was the day everything changed.
taglist : taglist : @sturniolo-szn2 @fadedstvrn @tezzzzzzzz @stayingstromboli @ivysturnss @sturniolofreakk @ihateemetoo @sturniolo-tease @sturniololuv3r @sturnsclam @nxvasturns @csturniolo43 @mattspillowprincess @sturniolo-fann @izzylovesmatt @sturniolosymphony @bernardmatthews @bugs-tags @emely9274 @arianna1342 @stevielovesmatt @riggysworld @ph3ebssturniolo @whore4chris @amelia4chris @pizzapocketpocketpizza @strxn-2 @xxxxxxlovesstuff @whump-loverz @sarahsturnn @urloveanaa @k-pevensie28 @chrissturniolobendmeovernow @chriss-slutt @lenus1aa @kitty-meow-meow44 @sturnslux3 @blahbel668
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hivemuthur · 5 months ago
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Nothing's New - Ch.3.
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viktorxfemale!reader explicit!
AU modern era, lovers to enemies to lovers, getting back together, a lot of angst, smut sort of present moving from this chapter forward
Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6.
word count: 5,5K
tag: #nothings new
summary: Alright folks, some abrupt decisions are made in this chapter and I am foreshadowing Viktor's self-discovery (I will place a warning in the next chapter, as here it's still not that relevant). I will post some smut in a minute so you all don't get too sad :v
Cross-posted on AO3
You’ve spent the entire weekend stewing in your thoughts. Replaying the events over and over, from beginning to end, picking up pieces you might have missed before. It’s been a week since your last interaction with Viktor, and today is the final day for you to collect your things from his apartment.
You’ve been lying in bed, wondering if what happened last week was real or just an odd case of pareidolia—attaching meaning where there was none. Viktor’s anger, his cracking voice, the way he slumped back into the chair after you hurled fragments of conversation at each other. And yet, those fragments were more than anything that had happened between you in the past year.
People do such strange things after breakups. They throw themselves anywhere but into the breakup itself. They drink, get addicted to something, take up an extreme sport—or extreme hookups, which could also count as a sport—start smoking, dive into a new relationship, or become completely hopeless or cruel versions of themselves. And those versions do stupid, strange things.
Like giving your ex the keys to your apartment to pick up their stuff. Or being the said ex and going to your ex’s apartment to pick up your stuff. Utterly deranged. Utterly strange. Cruel on one side, hopeless on the other.
You have waited the entire weekend, sitting on pins. You haven’t seen Paul once, ignoring his texts and phone calls. Then, inevitably, Sunday noon has crept in, and you realise, that you have to go.
The journey is a drag in itself, but once you are in front of his apartment, you pause. You hold your breath as you slide the key into the lock. Getting here was torment. You thought the cursed triple-date restaurant ordeal was horrific, but you knew nothing. This is horrific. This is true terror. The terror of what’s on the other side of the door gnaws at you the whole way here, and now it gnaws harder, your hand frozen on the key, frozen in the lock.
When you hear it click, you release the trapped breath and close your eyes, stepping in. It’s dark. The day is muggy, with rain on and off, as the weather broke earlier in the week. The first licks of autumn hang in the air, and suddenly, you remember how freezing Viktor’s apartment is during the colder months. Your apartment. The apartment you lived in together. Whatever.
You take a timid stroll through the hallway—some pictures have disappeared from the walls. The ones of you and him. It’s expected, no reason to sulk. Moving on.
There it is: the lounge. The space where you’ve spent so much time reading, yapping, playing records, having sex on the couch, on the windowsill. Sleeping in front of the TV. So much time spent there alone, waiting, falling asleep with a book on your face, or staring expectantly at your phone. So many times you were abandoned here.
Viktor’s desk by the window is still covered in books, papers, and notes. He’s taken his computer away for the weekend, leaving behind a sharp square-shaped void outlined in dust where it had been. You draw a sad face in the dust with your finger, then hesitate, wondering if you should wipe it away so Viktor doesn’t notice.
You sit in his chair and spin yourself around, your feet dragging on the floor. No pictures to stare him in the face while he works, no particularly personal notes. No signs of Julia yet. No assprints in the layer of dust on his desk. Check.
You turn to the box he’s left for you in the middle of the room. Your name is scrawled angrily on it, as if Viktor forced himself not to write something like "CUNT" instead. It’s sealed, ready for you to grab and flee. But you want to see what remnants of you he’s collected, the things he so firmly believes need to be returned.
You rush to the kitchen and grab the first knife you see. Back to the box. A strange feeling churns inside you—something close to excitement, but also to dread.
With trembling hands, you slice the tape, reopening the wound. The box is stuffed with paper on top, meticulously packed. You pull the layers out and start digging.
Your books and clothes, mostly. You take them out one by one. Your T-shirt with "ALL MY BOOTS ARE FUCKED UP" written across it in huge letters. You used to sleep in it. You hadn’t realised it was left behind. It smells exactly of nothing—just a piece of cloth that’s been hanging in a closet for months. And yet, it smells faintly of Viktor, though maybe it’s just your imagination.
Books, each of them ones you love. Especially your first edition of The Lord of the Rings. Not the first edition, just the first one you ever got. A couple of notebooks with notes for work and personal scribbling. Your pin that says, “Bono in short legs shock.” Nothing in particular.
A few records are stuffed to the side. You wince at how he’s squeezed them in there and wonder if they’ve already melted and warped in the heat that was killing you not so long ago. And then, your heart sinks. Between the books and the clothes and an odd perfume bottle, lies a small box.
A gift you’d brought him: the tiniest chunk of meteorite you’d bought at the weirdest book convention you’d ever been to. It had been mixed with a natural minerals expo, an esoterica expo, and a reptile expo. Truly terrible. Until you spotted a man selling pieces of stars from his private collection. And you thought to yourself that if anyone on this planet deserved to receive a star for no occasion, it was Viktor.
He was speechless when you gave it to him. “Amazing,” he’d whispered, his eyes glinting as he weighed it in his hand. For something so small, it had felt so heavy. His heart had felt heavy too, with affection and devotion. He kissed you, kept kissing you until you were out of breath. It was wonderful.
And now it sits in your hand, discarded and abandoned. And it feels heavier than ever.
Forcing the tears back where they came from, you take a shaky breath and scramble up from your knees, clutching the box in your hand. You go to return the knife to where you’d taken it from in the kitchen, determined not to leave any sign of your snooping—except for the sad face drawn in the dust.
When you turn from the counter, it hits you violently in the face.
A Post-it note on the fridge. Viktor’s handwriting. Very old-fashioned. Very Viktor. More intimate than text messages. He’d left those for you once, before your intimacy had died. But this one isn’t for you.
“Miláčku, if you could grab my notebook on your way to work, I will be eternally grateful. V.”
In an instant, you forget your intention to leave no trace. You snap it from the fridge door, twisting it violently in your fingers. Something roars in your chest, and you can feel yourself spiralling. The need to go somewhere safe is overwhelming. So you go to the bedroom.
And there you are, confronted with another square-shaped void. The outline of where the bed used to be screams at you with the darker shade of wooden floor compared to the rest of the room. The empty space—what you remembered as small and cramped—now feels massive and vast.
You crumble onto the floor, squeezing the box with Viktor’s star in one hand and the wretched note in the other. There is no force that could stop your tears. Your lungs burn as you release a pathetic wail of a sob, granting yourself one of the ugliest cries you’ve had in months. The sun sets at some point.
Your chest and shoulders shake in spasms as your tears fall onto the piece of yellow paper, distorting the handwriting into blurred stains. This is the worst you have felt since the beginning. This is the bottom, surely. Crying in your ex’s apartment, on the spot where your bed used to be, clutching a word in your fist as if you refused to give it away to another woman. You refuse to give Viktor away to another woman. You refuse to give yourself to another man.
When you’ve run out of tears, you just stare at the note. For about ten minutes. No, for around twelve hours. You have no idea how much time has passed. You sit there curled up where the bed used to be, unable to move, unable to cry. The remnants of whatever composure you had when you stepped in are all gone.
You don’t even flinch when the door unlocks, and you hear footsteps and a sigh from the hallway. You are completely content to die here in your ignominy.
“Why are you still here?” Viktor’s voice echoes through the corridor, making him sound like an annoyed ghost. Hearing no response, he sighs again, louder this time, to emphasise how distressing your presence is to him. A caricature of a sigh, almost as if mocking someone else’s.
“I asked, why are you still—” He pauses when he sees you. “Are you alright?” The way his voice is laced with genuine concern makes you sick. It is the truest thing he has said to you in such a long time. One of the very few true things he has said in a year.
“What is this?” you ask, your voice utterly sad and so small. You open your shaking fists, and Viktor crouches awkwardly to make sense of what you are showing him. Once he sees the box and the wet, yellow paper, he understands.
“This,” he says calmly, “is something I no longer want. And this is a note to my girlfriend, Julia.”
His tone is devoid of emotion—quiet, calm, calculated. Inside, he is a storm. He left those two things intentionally, to stab you back. He had no idea the stabbing would work so well.
He planted them to stop feeling so fucking sodden. The rush of adrenaline at the thought of you finding those items was a momentary relief because he wasn’t able to tell you how stumbling upon your things jabbed at his heart. He wasn’t able to tell you that he actually played your records and read your books. Or that, when he found your T-shirt hanging in the wardrobe, hidden under his sweater—the one you stole all the time in winter—he died, just a little. How he hadn’t realised until he put the sweater on and discovered there was another skin underneath the wool. And that it still smelled of you after all this time. He wouldn’t tell you that he’d rather eat drywall than smell it again.
“Why is it saying what it’s saying?” you ask, your voice a sharp, trembling whisper, disbelief written all over your face. It’s so undignified to ask this. But dignity is a luxury you have to shed to get through this.
“Because I forgot my notebook for work the other day,” Viktor replies, his tone dispassionate, his eyes studying you like a scientist observing a failed experiment. This has truly backfired. Or rather, it has worked too well. In his wildest dreams, Viktor wouldn’t have dared to think he would find you curled up on the floor, your face swollen and defeated, exposing yourself to another blow.
“Do I have to wipe your face with it, so you answer my question?” you hiss, though the answer isn’t unexpected. The tiny dent made the last time you saw each other was, in the end, only a dent.
You wouldn’t even call it a crack—something you could peel off and peek inside. So, of course, you have to keep hitting.
His jaw tightens, but his voice remains cool, measured. “It is a pet name. A word you use for someone you are in love with.” He is hitting back. Your anger makes him angry. The fact that you are so angry and broken means that nothing has ended, nothing has resolved. And it boils the fear within him, and he attacks when he is afraid. Normally, it wouldn’t be a phrase to play with. But now, he is afraid.
The paper in your hand crunches loudly as you snap your fist shut. “It belongs to me,” you say in a dark tone, your voice brimming with equal parts defiance and anguish.
Viktor scoffs. “That’s rich. Nothing in here belongs to you, save for the trash you refuse to take out.” He stands up to accentuate his disgust. “Are you honestly being jealous right now?”
“No!” You shake your head and pick yourself up to level with him. “But this is just… cruel,” you shoot back, your voice rising, cracking under the weight of his dismissal.
“You will forgive me,” Viktor says with a bitter smile, “but I don’t follow. Which part of me doing the exact same thing that you are doing—moving on—is cruel?” He hasn’t moved on. He is standing stuck in one place. Julia is a distraction, and he knows it. And he knows it’s wrong to use someone like that, but he is only human. And there is no comfort in the idea of being eternally broken.
“You know exactly what I am talking about! Did you leave it here intentionally? Did you do this to hurt me?” Low. You are so low right now, the sound of you hitting this new bottom is echoing across your skull.
“You are so fucking full of yourself,” he spits, his voice dripping venom. “This is my house. It was on my fridge. As far as I remember, there was nothing in my fridge that you might possibly need to take with you.” Except for this exact note that I left there for you to see. That I left there to hurt you, and you are absolutely right about me because you know me better than I know myself.
“Why did you make me come here?” you demand, your voice trembling with rage and heartbreak.
“Do I look like a delivery man to you?” Another cold scoff. Fast, so fast, he’s afraid you are going to see.
“Viktor. This—this is not going to work the way you think it will. You can’t just get rid of me. I will be in your life. I—”
“No!” he roars, the crack in his composure finally showing. “I want you gone. You—you fucking abandoned me! You ran, as if I were some abusive bastard. You do not get the right to demand anything from me!”
You are actually being screamed at by Viktor. Your brain short-circuits, and you blink a couple of times.
“What about Jayce and Mel?” you counter, clutching at straws, desperate to find a thread that could keep you tethered to him. Why, though? Were you really going to be friends again?
“I don’t give a fuck about Mel. And if I can live without you, I can live without Jayce,” he snaps, his voice teetering between fury and despair.
“Viktor, you cannot be serious right now. Jayce is—”
“I would rip off my leg to rid myself of you,” he cuts you off, his voice raw and unfiltered, his accent thickening under the weight of his emotions. “The good one. There is nowhere I wouldn’t go to rid myself of you. I regret—”
“I could slap you for that,” you interrupt, your voice low and trembling with fury.
“I wish you would,” he shoots back, stepping closer, his face a mask of tortured defiance. “I wish you would do fucking anything other than run. I wish you had waited for me that evening and talked to me. I wish you didn’t wipe your face with a note. I wish you’d picked up the phone instead of turning it off. You ruined me. You stole so many months of my life. And you dare to be surprised that I have found someone.”
“You abandoned me first,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but the words hit him like a blow.
“Don’t,” he warns, his voice tight, his eyes closing as if to shield himself from the truth. He knows. He knows. But for once, when he needed you to be strong, you were weak, and he couldn’t forgive that. Just once, when he crumbled under the pressure of stress, under the pressure of investors gnawing at him and Jayce, he just wanted you to stay put. To just be the person he came back to, day after day, until it passed. And when you crumbled, he hated you because you made him hate himself for being weak as well.
“You abandoned me first,” you repeat, louder this time, the words escaping your lips like a confession. “I loved you so much.” There are so many bottoms yet to be discovered by you, you realise. Stacked in layers, only for you to be painfully peeled off, like the paper skin on shoulders burned in the sun.
“Stop,” he says again, his voice faltering, the dent cracking as you keep hitting. As you keep scratching and clawing your nails at it.
“I tried to stay, but I couldn’t,” you continue, tears spilling over your cheeks, your voice alien even to you.
“Stop this,” he pleads, stepping closer. His hand reaches out, hesitating in mid-air before brushing against your face. His touch is tentative, trembling. His thumb sweeps the tear running down your cheek. His face, morphing in anguish, rage, something you can’t read—hesitation, resignation—all of those things watercolour across his eyes, his eyebrows, his lopsided mouth, transforming from one into another second after second.
“It ripped me apart,” you whisper, and his hand drops, his head bowing under the leaden weight of it all.
You feel the fear of the moment escalating or fading—both wrong—as now this is the most real thing that has transpired between you in almost a year. Your breath hitches when Viktor steps closer. And then.
He rubs his face against yours, his breath trapped in his throat as his composure fades. You freeze. The feeling of his skin on yours—so familiar. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple jumping, and finally, his golden eyes meet yours. And then. And then.
And then.
The featherlight brush of his lips—not yet a kiss. A strangled movement, hesitant and unsure. Your face cupped in his hands, the pull of gravity still stronger than the pull of his arms. And you stay, fixed in your place, breathing in his scent.
The last time you kissed was a long time ago, save for the absent pecks you gave each other when coming and going. And before that, you kissed many times. But never like this. Never so uncertain, so afraid.
He holds the back of your head as if you were water. It isn’t just one kiss. It’s plenty of lingering, sad kisses—no tongue, just his soft lips gently pressing against yours, making tiny smacking sounds each time he retreats to start again.
The outside of him is calm, but his heart flutters in his chest, and you can feel it under your hands, fisting his sweater. You kiss him back with equal, fleeting tenderness. Your hands travel to his neck, to his cheeks, ghosting over the beauty marks on his face. In the deafening silence of this space, all you can hear is his shuddery breath.
So this is how it used to feel. You remember. The one tremendous feeling that was missing, that you had forgotten about. Belonging. It crawls back into the periphery of your nerves—the sensation of being taken and kept, falling from his mouth to yours. But this time, you take him back; you keep him back.
He closes his eyes and kisses you deeper, pulls you closer. The familiarity of it erases all his careful plans to kick you out of his life. It clouds his judgment as he does the unthinkable. His fingernails scrape faintly against your cheeks, and you open your mouth fully for him, allowing him to swallow you. Your tongues touch, and Viktor groans. Because it feels different than with other people, and he can’t deny it.
His cane clatters against the wood as he leans on you, pushing you toward the windowsill. His fingers now dig into your ribs, knocking the air out of your lungs. You hop up, open your legs, and he is between them immediately. Leaning on you, squeezing the back of your neck, his hands all over you, under your clothes, and you gasp for air, rutting your hips against him to feel more of him—all of him.
Your hands fumble with his shirt and sweater so you can touch the flat plane of his stomach. His belly button glues itself back to his spine as you slide your palms underneath. Your breaths grow heavy as his hands fist your hair and press you further into his face until you can’t breathe. He gropes you so hungrily it almost hurts; all the clothes you are wearing hurt your skin, and only Viktor’s skin can soothe this pain.
You desperately pull the layers between you up and press your stomach to his. His hips buck into yours, his cock straining in his pants, and he wants—he wants, he wants you so much he whimpers, rutting into your core, the pang of lust and need twisting in his lower belly.
It all falls back into place when he suddenly remembers what it’s like to be just blissfully fucking you, what it feels like to be inside you, and he is aching. He thrusts against you hysterically, cursing his clothes, his hands grabbing fistfuls of your flesh, and you wrap your legs around his hips, digging your thumbs into the hollow of his cheeks.
And it’s only when you moan out his name that he remembers something else—how hard it was to breathe when you left. How bad he felt under Mel’s worried gaze. And he knows he wouldn’t survive it if it were to happen again.
So he pauses, breathing heavily, resting his forehead against yours. He snarls and pulls away, and you feel something hooked out of your chest violently, leaving a gaping hole behind. He disappears from your space so fast you can only register him moving further between your blinks.
When you open your eyes again, you see him in the far corner of the room, hunched on his cane, chest heaving, turned so that he wouldn’t face you.
“Get out.” His voice is flat and rotten, as if someone has made him eat poison.
Wordlessly, you take the box with the star chunk from your pocket and place it on the windowsill before leaving the room. You drop your belongings back into the previously gutted box, not bothering to seal it back up, drop the keys into the bowl by the door, and leave with a loud thud echoing all the way back to the bedroom.
Viktor stands by the window, waiting to see you out on the street. His hand clasps against his mouth, trying to suppress a sob, his eyes fixed on you down there, so tiny, waving in a cab. It swallows you and takes you away, alongside your things.
It’s getting late, but he still calls Julia. He gives her the worst, most generic talk he can muster. He gives her a weak “It’s not you, it’s me,” which is, of course, a lie. Because it’s about her—not being you. And he can’t bear another woman crying in his apartment on that day, but he braces through it. He doesn’t tell her about the kiss. She cries a lot, but they part in peace. She’s understanding like that. And he feels about one stone lighter when she leaves.
But it’s not enough. One stone lighter, that’s all he feels after. His apartment is still heavy, still weighed down by the absence of you. He locks the door, leans against it for a moment, trying to breathe. The quiet settles over him, a suffocating silence that makes his chest tight. It’s not like he thought it would be. He should be relieved, shouldn’t he? He doesn’t have to juggle anyone’s emotions anymore, doesn’t have to pretend to be something he’s not. But all he can think about is you. How you left, how he watched you go, how he felt that piece of him break off and disappear when the door shut behind you.
He makes his way to the couch, sits down heavily, his hand finding its way to his lips. His fingers press against the spot where you kissed him, still lingering with the faint taste of you, the memory of your warmth. He mumbles a quiet apology, but it feels hollow, empty, like he’s talking to the walls.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, over and over, the words breaking him. “I love you. God, I love you...”
His breath catches on the last confession, as if saying it aloud will somehow make it real, but it only makes the absence feel sharper. It’s almost unbearable. The pain of not having you here, the pain of knowing he pushed you away. He presses his palm harder against his lips, as if trying to hold onto something that’s already slipping through his fingers. He feels completely gutted.
And you come back to Paul with your gutted box of things. He lets you in, no words said. He makes you tea and sits you on the couch. And you feel... so rotten, so evil for doing this. He cradles your head on his lap and makes quiet, soothing shushing sounds. When it starts to feel worse and worse, you snort up your sniffle and sit up.
“I have to talk to you,” you say in a cracked voice, Paul still smiling, still not realizing, because he would never expect you to do something so horrible.
He cocks his eyebrows and hums. “Oh-oh.”
“Paul, I’m serious,” you say, your voice trembling. The tea in your hands cools as the weight of what you’re about to tell him crushes you into the couch.
“You sure you want to do this now? Seems like you had a hard day already,” Paul replies, his tone gentle, though his gaze searches yours cautiously, as if bracing for something heavy. He’s ready for many things. He understands breakups are complicated. He knows how fresh this is when you started. And he’s told himself he’s ready for this kind of moment as well. Yet. Yet.
“I need to tell you something,” you insist, setting the tea down and folding your hands in your lap to stop them from shaking.
“Let me guess. Things are not as over between you and Viktor as you thought they were,” Paul says, leaning back, his face unreadable but his voice still gentle, knowing.
“I—” you stammer, feeling a lump rise in your throat. Were you this obvious?
“You don’t need a genius to know that. It was pretty fast… you and me. I am aware,” he continues, his voice soft but tinged with resignation, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his jumper. He’s actually hoping to be wrong, but well.
“We kissed,” you admit, the words spilling out like a confession you can’t hold back any longer. And then you wince as the memory somehow becomes real once you speak it out loud. But you can’t tell him what kind of kiss it was. That you’ve betrayed Paul about a million times today, with each tender and longing kiss Viktor gave you—and you gave back to him. Let him think it was just a kiss.
“Oh.” Paul freezes, his expression shifting ever so slightly, though you can’t tell if it’s surprise or hurt—or both.
“Oh?” you echo, your own voice quivering with uncertainty, afraid of what will follow.
“Well, I… I didn’t exactly expect you to say that,” he admits, running a hand through his hair, his movements deliberate, as if giving himself time to think.
“What did you think I was going to say?” you ask, your voice cracking, the weight of guilt pressing on your chest like a vice. The bottoms just keep coming.
“Oh, I don’t know. That you’re not ready to move in yet? I don’t know what I was thinking, really,” he says with a bitter laugh, his shoulders sagging as he looks away from you for the first time.
“Paul—” you start, but he cuts you off with a raised hand.
“Do you want to get back together with him?” he asks, his tone measured, though the tension in his jaw betrays him.
“No,” you say quickly, but the certainty in your voice wavers under his gaze. No. No, you don’t want to. You’re sure you don’t want to. And yet.
“Do you want to move in with me?” he asks, his voice quieter this time, almost cautious, as if he doesn’t want to hear the answer.
“I… don’t know,” you admit, your hands clenching into fists against your thighs, wishing you had an answer that would hurt less. No. You don’t want to.
“Do you still love him?” Paul’s question lingers in the air like a storm cloud. You swallow hard, your silence speaking louder than any words could. And you hate yourself for it. This poor, kind man. And what you did to him. Almost the exact same thing Viktor did to you.
Paul sighs, the sound heavy with understanding and pain. “Do you love me?”
“I—I don’t know,” you whisper, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes under the pressure of his scrutiny.
“Well,” Paul says, forcing a weak smile that makes his lines more prominent. “I guess that concludes it.”
“Paul—” you try again, desperate to say something, anything, to fix this.
“Don’t,” he interrupts, his voice breaking slightly. “I guess I should’ve known. Jesus, how have I been so stupid?”
“You’re not stupid. I am. I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, your chest aching with regret. He looks so hurt. And it aches to be so broken that you can’t love a nice, beautiful, boring man. It would be so easy if it weren’t so hard.
“Is that all it was? Just a wait up before you can get back with him?”
“Paul, I’m not getting back with him. And no, it wasn’t. I just… don’t think it’s fair. To be with you, when I’m not…” anything in particular. Not in the relationship, not outside of it. Just complacent.
“Do you have any idea… what it feels like to be with someone who is in love with someone else, all the time?” He looks at you and the answer is written all over your face, then takes a long sigh. “I’ll call you a cab.”
You sit in silence for a while. You drink your cold tea. You stand up, pick up your box for it to be taken from your hands and carried by Paul to a cab. He slumps it onto your knees and closes the door before you can say ‘thank you.’ Then he pats the cab’s roof and sends you away. He will make you his own box, soon.
And you come back home, to your dark place, with one box, and another already anticipated, to stack one on top of the other. Thoughts clattering in your head. Viktor, the mess you’ve made, the confusion—all so harrowing.
You should feel something, shouldn’t you? Relief, maybe? But it’s just emptiness, the kind that fills every corner of your flat, each inch of it reminding you of what you’ve lost. You try to focus but your thoughts slip back to Viktor, to the kiss, to the way he touched you, like he still cared, like he still wanted you.
Sitting down on the bed, you press your fingers to your lips, the memory of his kiss burning there, so vivid, so real. You can almost feel him again. The warmth of his hands, the way his lips fit against yours like they were made to. Your chest tightens, the ache deepening. You close your eyes, leaning into the pillow, whispering, “I love you. I miss you so much,” to the fabric, as if hoping that saying it aloud will somehow help you to repent.
And in that quiet moment, when the dust settles down, the truth you've been running from finally breaks through. It was always there, under the surface, but now you admit it. Now, you let yourself feel it, how much indeed you love him and miss him.
186 notes · View notes
superstarcherrycolagirl · 1 year ago
Text
i might as well be drunk in love
“slut!” by taylor swift
benny cross x fem!reader / 1.4k words
idea: you’re drunk, and benny takes care of you after a long night out
tw: drinking, swearing, so fluffy it’s sickening
notes: this is my first big piece that I’ve wrote and omg it took FOREVER !! i haven’t been able to stop thinking about “the bikeriders” she literally consumes my every waking thought AHH !! anyway i hope you guys enjoy reading this:))
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆
it’s just about 4 in the morning and you and benny just made it back home to your place. you’d been so busy this week due to picking up more shifts at the library so you would be able to pay off the rent by the end of the month, groceries, and afford to buy a little more thread to stitch up a pair of your jeans and the large tear on bennys jacket. not only was that stressful, but throughout the week you had to deal with some grouchy elderly women, preverted college boys (‘pinkos’ as zipco would call them), and multiple groups of chaotic elementary school students who were checking out their books for the semester, and only to have a slice of toast, scorching hot coffee with no milk OR sugar, and fucking prayer holding you together. so yes, this night out was a well deserved one. but who’s kidding? you needed that shit! now here you are, barely getting up the stairs to your apartment as benny holds onto you for dear life.
as you both stood outside of your apartment door, benny began digging for his copy of keys in his pocket while leaning you up against his side and adjusting his hold on your hip. he draped his jacket over you before you hopped onto his bike to head home, leaving him in his tattered sleeveless black shirt against the cold chicago air.
“sorry baby, turns out the key were in the other po-“ “y’arms are so pretty honey.. like-i like how they feel ‘round me” you cut him off with slurred words as you drunkenly gazed up at him.
“can’t believe i get to see them all t’time, for m’self, a-and nobody else gets ta have ‘em but me.. a’like when they hold me when it’s real cold..o-or hot.. or ‘round the pillows or the flowers ya get me.. or when ya’ cuddlin’ lula.. oh i hope she’s not t’cold, v’missed her so much.. she’s probably sad that her mama and daddy were gone all night-“ at this point benny could only chuckle as his girl jumped from talking about his arms to their sweet black cat lula, it made his heart swell.
once he got you into your apartment he began walking you straight towards your bed, as your giggles and drunk thoughts echoed down the hallway “no b-benny i don’t wanna t’sleep yet, i wanna watch t’bakin’ show on channel 6, they be makin some.. some of them valen..tines treats a-and i wanna try” you began to whine as benny sat you down at the edge of your bed, kneeling in front of you as he begins unbuckling the straps of your red kitten heels “yeah we can watch some baby, d’worry, jus’ wanna getcha out of these ‘nd this dress” “thought ‘ya liked me in this dress? grabbed these heels to match with em’” you said sadly, your eyes starting to droop.
benny looked up at you and could see the slight pout on your face, so he moved his left hand to caress your thigh “oh y’know i love this dress, but that tiny little nightie a’yours, that pretty pink flower in the middle that barely covers you up, takes the cake for me” he says as he moves closer to you “re-eally?” “yeah baby, she’s m’favorite” his voice gets muffled as he places some kisses on the tops of your thighs, still looking right back up at your sleepy eyes “but i love everythin’ that you wear.. especially when you wear nothing” he says with a smirk on his face, and had stopped your whining and shut you up instantly.
after getting your heels off benny helps you stand up to start taking off your clothes. the jacket was first to go, as he tossed it on top of your vanity chair. he then pushed the straps of your red gingham dress down which slowly began to fall to the floor. you were left in the dainty lingerie set you’d picked out for the night; the blush pink fabric with the lacy details matching the drunken flush on your face. benny takes his time to get a look at you, rubbing his callused hands up and down your sides. he knows that all the shifts you’ve picked up and the deadlines of payments have been making you stressed, so he just wants to take care of you tonight, although it won’t come close to repay you for all the sacrifices you make for him.
after benny unclasped your bra, he swiftly moved to your side of the bed and grabbed your linen night gown “arms up for me baby” you obliged, sleepily raising your arms above your head you momentarily close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of the soft fabric against your skin. but you felt something else. something running along your legs. was that fuzz? you didn’t wear socks with your heels tonight and benny already tossed your dress into the laundry bin. you were stumped until you heard a rumbling sound from beneath you. purring.
“oh lula! l-look honey s’lula! she’s purring up ‘gainst me!!” you gleamed to benny, as he too was receiving affection from lula. “she’s happy that her mama and daddy are back home, right honey? home?” benny ever so slightly teased, but out of love of his girls’ adorable rambles. “yeah. home” you said with a smile. now after changing benny walks you over to your side of the bed. he sat you down facing him, but paused briefly as he realized he forgot to take some of your jewelry off.
“one second mama, forgot to get this necklace and these hoops off, i know you sleepy but i’ll be quick” he said, quickly and gently taking them off “i told ya’ i ain’t sleepy.. gotta.. we gotta still watch our show ‘member?” “y’right baby, our show” a chuckle left his mouth; of course he remembered, but he wanted you to take the credit for remembering about it as you were fighting to stay awake. “what would i do without you baby? hmm?” “d’know ben-baby, but don’t worry, y.. ya’ have me” “and you have me baby. m’sweet baby” benny’s words became muffled as he held your jaw and kissed you deeply before placing your jewlery down on the nightstand. you were finally lying down after benny got you comfortable. he then quickly stripped down to his boxers and swapped his black shirt for a white wifebeater before joining you in bed.
just by looking at you he could tell that you were barely awake, but sticking to his word, he turned the tv onto channel 6, as clips of a dessert with chocolate and some kind of fruit in it come across the screen. strawberries? or raspberries? hell, cherries? he could not tell.
as the sounds of the baking show filled the room benny shifted you closer to him, so you could rest on his chest. “did you have a good time tonight baby? i know you’ve been excited about this meeting all week” he asked you softly. you let yourself finally close your eyes, knowing that it was okay to rest now “s’so fun.. ears are ringin’ a lil.. but had so fun with t’girls, and t’club,” benny notices that your sentences are making less sense as you are just moments away from knocking out, but he was able to make out one coherent sentence of yours before that “but i had t’most fun with ya’ tonight.. ya’ lit up m’whole night honey” seconds away from slipping into your own dream land, he had to admit, you saying that so effortlessly made his breath hitch in his throat. he didn’t have a care for anything outside the club until he met you, and you have completely flipped his life upside down because of it. it gave him meaning to ride home late at night knowing he was coming back home to you. it gave him purpose to always come back to you, regardless of what’s going on through his mind. you are there for him, you are there to care for him, laugh with him, cry with him, and to just love him for the person he is. you are there for him. you are it for him “and you light up my life baby, my light”
he reaches his hand over to turn off the little lamp on his side of the bed and when he turned his head back to look at you, you were fast asleep; soft snores leaving your mouth. he could only smile, knowing that you can get the deserved rest you’ve needed “love you so much sweet girl, with my whole heart” he kisses the top of your head as lula leaps onto the bed to join her mama and daddy for cuddles.
peace and quiet at last.
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manlikeazi · 2 months ago
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Heyyy I love reading ur stories of beta squad its so gooddd!! Idk if ur taking requests but I was hoping u would do one where reader was in a video called “guess her boyfriend”? But the twist is reader is dating one of the beta squad member (either sharky or Kenny), but they haven’t revealed their relationship yet? So they invite people on the show to try to guess reader on which beta squad member is her boyfriend, then they reveal it kn the end who it is? Just a of fluff and chemistry between them PLSSSS also can u make it a pretty long fic? Only if you can LOVE UR STORIES AGAIN
Guess The Boyfriend - King Kenny
Summary: In a special video called Guess The Boyfriend, your secret boyfriend, Kenny, is revealed while Beta Squad tried their hardest to win the game--in short, chaos.
Pairing: King Kenny x Reader
Genre: Fluff
Masterlist
Note: I didn't make this video accurate and I changed it a lot from the eliminations itself lmao just, bear with me yeah?
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The camera rolls. The set is bright, lively, and decorated with flashy cameras. In the middle stands you, grinning, heart racing, and trying not to glance too long in one specific direction.
You knew this would be chaos, the fun chaos but chaos nonetheless.
Behind you stand five very familiar faces. The Beta Squad boys, Sharky, Aj, Chunkz, Niko, and Kenny where they are all lined up like contestants on a cheesy dating show and only one of them is your actual boyfriend. The others? Just really committed to the bit.
"Alright everyone!" Aj started. 
"Welcome to Guess The Boyfriend! Today, our lovely guest" Aj said and the boys gestured to you with exaggerated flair
You wave at the camera with a playful smile. Kenny's looking at you, biting back a grin like he always does when he's trying not to laugh. You try not to look, but it's hard because he's in a white tee, chains glinting under the studio lights, hands in his pockets like he's just chilling... like he's not actually your boyfriend who kissed you before this and whispered, "Don't give me away too soon, yeah?"
"Has brought her man here... but won't tell us who it is. That's your job! Our panel of guessers will be asking questions each round and based on their answers, one of the boys will be eliminated every time. Think you can spot the real boyfriend?" Aj said to the group of random people seating and looking all professional for a youtube video.
The three people waved and applauded for themselves. Cyrus, Aila, and Gian--what they introduced themselves to be.
"Yes, I believe we ca-" Cyrus said confidently then was cut off by Aj.
"We don't give the slightest" Aj said turning to the camera with a grin while the boys erupted with laughter. Typical.
"Basically, what Aj said, just shush man" Niko said, laughing.
"Aj starting the video with a violation" Chunkz said.
"And with that, let the games begin" Aj said with a smile.
The game started with the usual question and answer.
"Okay, boys. How did you and Y/N meet?" Aila asked as she leans forward, taking this far too seriously.
"Tesco" Sharky said as he goes first. 
You nearly choke on your laugh.
"I was picking up plantain and YN was reaching for the last one. I snatched it before she could. Sparks flew" Sharky added, very calmly.
Laughter erupts across the room.
"We met on a train. I was reading a book, she asked about it. Said she liked smart guys" Niko said with a smirk but twitchy. A guy who may have never even held a book in his whole life. 
"Mmm, nah. It was at a party. She was lost, looking for the bathroom. I pointed her the wrong way 'cause I thought she was cute and wanted her to come back" Aj said. You raised an eyebrow at his answer because knowing him? He might probably do that. 
"She DM'd me first" Chunkz said with a smug and confident look. 
"Did I?" You asked while you gave him a playfully offended look. 
"Yup, said 'you're funny' I said 'you're pretty' and now we're here" Chunkz said.
Then Kenny, appearing more calm, chill, like it's just another day.
"We met on a shoot. She came to help with wardrobe. We ended up sitting in the hallway talking for ages. Didn't even realize everyone had packed up" Kenny said.
You tried not to smile. That one? The truth.
The guests murmured among themselves. They smell the honesty but it's too early to be sure.
"Alright then, describe your first date" Gian said as he grins. 
"Go-karting where she cheated and still lost" Sharky answered fast. 
"I took her out for Italian. I even remembered her drink order. That's boyfriend behavior, right?" Aj said. 
"Picnic at Hyde Park, she made sandwiches and I brought juice boxes, very romantic stuff" Niko said with a slight shrug, trying too hard to appear nonchalant.
"She cooked for me and that's how I knew she was the one" Chunkz said smoothly, shooting a playful smile and wink in your direction. To others, it might seem flirty but you know him enough to know that it's an act.
Then Kenny.
"Mini golf" Kenny said, his eyes flicking toward you for a second. 
"She beat me but in all honesty? I let her win" Kenny said.
"No, you didn't" You muttered, forgetting yourself.
Everyone turns.
"Interesting slip-up, Y/N!" Cyrus said as he grins. 
Kenny's looking off into the distance like he didn't hear anything. You could strangle him or kiss him.
"Classic. Time for the hug test. One by one, please!" Aila said as she nods. 
Sharky's up first. His hug is brief and jokey, more like two friends awkwardly bumping chests. You both laugh.
Aj's hug lingers, one hand around your waist. Oh he was definitely trying too hard as you noticed that he was a little bit of uncomfortable of being in close physical contact.
"You smell nice" Aj teased and You smacked his arm lightly.
Niko? Classic Niko, he spins you dramatically like he's in a romcom. 
"Tell me that wasn't cinematic" Niko said as he puts you down.
Chunkz pulled you in softly just like he always do whenever he gave hug to his friends You knew this because Chunkz is more of a physical affection person.
"I should win this game just for fun" Chunkz whispered, then he grins as you separated. 
Then Kenny. He steps up, slow then you breathe in. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight. Familiar, warm and home.
You almost forget where you are. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to.
When you pull back, your face is slightly flushed.
The panel whispers again.
Eventually, one by one, someone gets eliminated.
Sharky was the first to go.
"Tesco? Really?" Gian reasoned.
Then Aj was next.
"You remembered the drink order but not the actual drink" Cyrus said.
Next is Niko. 
"You just give main character energy, too suspicious" Aila said.
"And you're a horrible liar as well, I can tell" Gian said.
"Oh wow, now I wanna scrap him after this" Niko said, looking offended.
"I want the whole NDL to come after him" Niko added, laughing as he made the empty threat.
It's down to Kenny and Chunkz. You tensed but in a good way. The panel goes back and forth. Chunkz has been smooth all game while Kenny's been quiet but every answer landed.
They take their final guess.
"We think... it's Kenny" Cyrus said.
The boys cheer, slapping backs, Kenny flexing.
"Only one way to find out" You said.
"Y/N... time to reveal your actual boyfriend" Chunkz said as he turns to you. 
You smiled and acted like you are about to go to Chunkz's side that made the panelist on edge then you go straight into Kenny's arms.
The room erupts.
"SEE? AND YOU'RE TRYING TO DISAGREE WITH ME?" Gian said while pointing to Alia. 
"Kenny was telling the TRUTH?" Alia said.
Kenny's grinning as he wrapped his arms around you. You rolled your eyes, laughing. 
"Fair enough, I tried my best though" Chunkz said.
"Kenny, you traitor! You said you'd lie with us!" Niko yelled somewhere behind the set. 
"I didn't say anything" Kenny said, smug. 
"Y'all just assumed" Kenny added calmly.
You lean into his side, heart full, cheeks warm. All that secrecy, all that pretending is not worth it anymore. You looked up at him.
"Next time, I'm not hiding you" You said, smiling.
"Was kind of fun though, wasn't it?" Kenny said as he shrugs. 
"Maybe. Just this once" You said as you kissed his cheek. 
"Any last word from the couple?" Sharky asked.
"Play the trailer!" The both of you said.
The camera zooms out on you and Kenny laughing, arms wrapped around each other, while the rest of the boys dramatically fake betrayal.
Best. Reveal. Ever.
Bonus (Why not?) - #KENNYHASAGIRLFRIEND
The video had only been up for an hour.
And the internet was in shambles.
"KENNY WAS TELLING THE TRUTH THE WHOLE TIME I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT--"
"Chunkz talking about 'she DM'd me first' when Kenny was out here hugging her like she was air and he couldn't breathe without her?? Be serious"
"The way Kenny held her. THE WAY HE HELD HER. Like he'd fight God if she asked. I'm not okay"
"Nah but shout out to Sharky saying they met at Tesco. My guy really said 'sparks flew over plantain' I'm crying"
"CHUNKZ WAS ROBBED. Give that man an Oscar for how serious he took this fake relationship"
"The way Kenny was smiling in that hug... we're NEVER getting rid of this video. Iconic"
"She said 'next time I'm not hiding you' and I nearly screamed. WHO GAVE THEM PERMISSION TO BE THIS CUTE"
"Y/N really walked straight past everyone and into Kenny's arms. THE POWER MOVE. I want love like this"
"NOT KENNY BEING THE QUIETEST IN THE ROOM BUT STILL WINNING. y'all he had boyfriend written ALL over him. THE HUG?? I'm sobbing"
"No one talking about how Aj actually remembered a drink order that didn't exist. He was committed"
"why did niko hug her like he was directing The Notebook"
"No bc chunkz was lying his ass off with CONFIDENCE. man gave Idris-level monologue and STILL lost"
"aj: "she smells nice" me: pack it up romeo, you're outta here"
"niko: spins y/n like he's directing la la land the panel: "mmm yeah no, he's lying" 
"chunkz lying so good i almost convinced myself he was my boyfriend too"
Meanwhile, you're sat at home next to Kenny as you refreshed your feed in disbelief. 
"They're insane" You said.
"Look at this one, 'I've seen couples in K-dramas with less chemistry than these two" Kenny said as he chuckles beside you, phone in hand.
"We should start our own series" Kenny said as he looked up at you, smirking. 
"Beta Squad Presents, My Secret Boyfriend?" You said jokingly as you raised an eyebrow. 
"I mean, we wouldn't have to hide anymore. They all know now" Kenny said as he shrugs, pulling you closer. 
"Let them talk. Let them scream, you're mine" You said as you rest your head on his shoulder. 
"And you're mine" Kenny murmurs, kissing your temple.
- end -
Hello lovelies!!! Didn't post for a days? I think but here's one so..... enjoy
ALSOO, I didn't try to make this video accurate and I did a LOT OF CHANGES like rules of the vid as I said so yeah. I did this when my internet is down for days and I just got lazy to fix it more accurately but nonetheless, enjoy though
an aj fic next lmao
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rizzoreads88 · 2 months ago
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“ElRiEL iSnT pOpUlAr..No OnE liKeS ElAin”
Funny how not even one gwynriel moment even made the FAN FAVORITE moment roster to begin with ….
Also funny how Elain (whose pov we haven’t Even Had yet) went up against one of the best moments in the entire series with a already established endgame couple and only lost by 17 votes…
(And that’s with multiple large creators telling their followers to go vote for nessian.)
I am happy the nessian moment won. To me that speech from Cassian to Nesta in acowar was the best love declaration in all of sjms books so far. I sob everytime I read it. I hope this nessian moment wins the entire bracket ♥️
At the end of the day SJM is going to write whoever she wants as endgame. The most popular ship doesn’t even really matter but I just love that this has proven people who constantly try to push gwynriel is a bigger ship and not a lot of people like elain… wrong.
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