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calumance · 2 years ago

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The Interview

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: cussing, it got angsty for a millisecond, talking about throwing up, doesn’t actually happen, slight mention of panic attacks

Summary: She is an actor who is embarrassingly and openly obsessed with Pedro Pascal, but when she gets invited to be a guest on the same talk show as him, it doesn’t go the way she planned.

A/N: holy moly, I haven’t written in FOREVER so I apologize now if this is absolutely horrible. And this is also the first time I have ever written anything for Pedro Pascal so go easy on me!

This was not the first time she was asked to be on a late night talk show; she had been on a couple for her smaller roles. But this was the first time that she knew absolutely nothing about what was going on. No one was telling her who the other guests were, when she was to go onto the stage, where she was supposed to sit, what they were going to talk to her about, nothing. It was all kept a secret from her. So when she showed up to the studio, she felt like she was running blind.

“They’re just going to ask me about my movie that is coming out soon, right?” She asked her brother, Jeremy, who was standing behind her through the mirror.

He was the one who set this whole thing up, and he was being the most secretive. “Yeah, sure, something like that.” His phone started to ring and he left the room while putting it to his ear.

“What the hell does that even mean?” She mumbled to herself while she finished the final touches on her makeup.

Jeremy didn’t come back any time soon, in fact, no one had come and talked to her since the moment she arrived. Out of boredom, she pulled her phone out and started to scroll through her twitter. She read her latest tweet to herself: “Watched the most recent episode of #TheLastOfUs; is anyone else obsessed with Pedro Pascal? Just me? Okay.” The tweet had thousands of likes and retweets, and so did the other handful of tweets where she gushed about how obsessed with Pedro Pascal she was.

It was true, he was, IS, a brilliant actor, funny, the most respectful and charismatic man in Hollywood, and absolutely drop dead gorgeous. She was wrapped around his finger, embarrassingly so, and, as far as she could tell, he had absolutely no idea who she was. And she was absolutely fine with that, especially with her tweets about him. “I need to stop tweeting my innermost thoughts.” She said to herself before tossing her phone to the side.

It was a couple minutes later when there was a knock at the door and one of the stage crew members stuck their head through the door, “They’re about ready for you on stage, are you ready?” She nodded as she stood up, running her hands down the skirt of her dress to flatten it out.

No one talked to her as she followed behind the crew member to the stage. This was getting weird, and it made her stomach sink into her ass. What the hell was she about to walk into?

Her hands shook slightly as she waited for the host to finish introducing her, talking about her new movie and the release date. She relaxed a bit, maybe they were just talking about the movie, and this show just happens to not communicate with anyone. The door opened up for her to walk through and she waved at the cheering crowd and made her way to the couches next to the host. The second she caught sight of the other guests, her heart stopped.

Holy shit, he’s right there.

She continued to smile and make her way to the couch, Pedro Pascal and Helen Mirren standing and clapping for her.

You’re a fucking actor, ACT like you’re not having a panic attack.

Helen gave her a tender hug, and a soft kiss to the cheek. Pedro pulled her in for a hug as well, could he tell how badly she was trembling? She moved to sit on the other side of Helen, away from Pedro, when the host stopped her, “Oh no, no, there’s a spot and a drink for you right in between Pedro and Helen there.”

Dear god, this is why it was all a secret. I’ve been set up.

She smiled and switched to sit in between them, but she leaned towards Helen.

Can they tell I’m about to vomit? Holy shit, DO NOT vomit.

They started off by asking her about her new movie. It was her first big role and she was more than happy to talk about it and answer the few questions they did ask her. When they switched the focus to Pedro and his absolutely bombshell success of his shows, she tried her hardest to keep a happy face, but oh god did she want to run screaming.

The host began talking about the attention Pedro has been getting from the success of his shows and if he liked it or not. He bashfully answered that he did. “The internet sure loves you.” The host said, and she felt her heart fall into the empty pit of her stomach. “This tweet here says ‘I need to stop referring to Pedro Pascal as daddy, it’s becoming a problem.’” Everyone laughed, including her, trying to act like she wasn’t about to pass out.

But then she saw it on the screen, the username was blurred out, but it was absolutely her tweet. She knew it was based on the emoji’s she put at the end; and even though the username was blurred, it wasn’t blurred that well. She took a staggered breath that hopefully no one noticed. “This one here says ‘Just caught up on The Last of Us…should I be concerned that watching Pedro Pascal kill that many people turned me on?’”

Please don’t reveal who tweeted that. Maybe I’ll make it off this stage alive.

Pedro laughed, and before he got a chance to comment on it, the host directed his attention back to her, “Are you alright there? You look a little flustered?” The smirk on his face told her everything. They were absolutely going to reveal who tweeted that.

“I’m great.” She said with a smile, but as sarcastically as she possibly could. She was sweating profusely.

“Good! Because, I felt like I recognized the username on this tweet,” The screen with the screenshot of the tweet suddenly unblurred the username and revealed her twitter handle, “Oh my god, that was your tweet!” That was it, she was going in hiding after this interview.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end. They showed three more of her thirst tweets for the man sitting right next to her. After the second she leaned forward and placed her hands on her face just so that her fingers were covering her mouth as she told herself over and over to not cry.

Perhaps Pedro could tell how uncomfortable she was starting to feel because he quickly spoke up with a chuckle, “I mean, you should see some of the things I’ve tweeted. I barely even know how to work twitter.”

She felt a wave of relief when the attention was finally not on her and her absolutely embarrassing obsession with Pedro. However, the feeling of wanting to simultaneously vomit and cry still lingered. But, she put on a brave face and acted as if the entire interview didn’t even faze her.

Once the show ended and she politely said goodbye to everyone around her, she made her way to her dressing room. It wasn’t until she heard the click of the door shutting that she finally broke into tears. She ended up in a squatting position while trying to pull herself together, but the tears just kept coming. Jeremy walked through the door with a huge shit eating grin on his face until he saw his sister nearly in the fetal position on the ground. Before he got a chance to say a single word, she stood up and poked a finger in his direction, “You did this, didn’t you? You were the one who set up this interview, you were the one who told me over and over again how good it would be for my career for me to come on the show. You set this whole thing up, didn’t you?”

“Why are you upset with me? If you didn’t want something like this to happen, maybe keep your thirst in a diary, not on the internet where everyone can see it.” Jeremy pointed a finger back at her.

The worst part was that he was right. She couldn’t even argue his point, because he was fucking right. Maybe it was time to delete her twitter and go into hiding after her movie came out. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around herself and let out a sigh, “Can you just go out there and tell me when everyone is gone? I want to be the last one to leave.”

Jeremy huffed as he walked out the door. She turned to look at herself in the mirror and started to clean the makeup that had run down her face. It was as she threw the final makeup wipe into the trash when she heard the knock on her door. It couldn’t be Jeremy, the dude never knocked once in his life. The feeling of wanting to throw up suddenly came rushing back.

When she opened the door, she had to swallow her heart. Pedro was standing there, a soft smile on his lips. “May I come in?” He asked softly.

As badly as she wanted to tell him no and slam the door in his face, she didn’t. Instead, she nodded and silently opened the door further to allow him to walk past her. She shut the door behind him and before he got a chance to say anything, she started spewing her thoughts, “Pedro, I’m so sorry if I embarrassed you. I promise I am going to delete all of the tweets, probably even my entire twitter account. I didn’t know any of this was going to happen, I didn’t even know you were a guest. Literally the entire thing had been kept a secret to me and I am so, so sorry if this damages or, or puts a hiccup, or whatever in your career. You are entirely an amazing actor and you deserve to be treated better than that, and-”

“No, no, no,” he softly cut her off and stepped closer to her, putting his hands on her arms. “I came here to ask if you were okay; to tell you that you deserve to be treated better.” She didn’t even know how to respond to that, so she just stared at him. “Interviewers can be brutal and I, even though I promise I had nothing to do with this, wanted to apologize to you.” He looked deep into her eyes and slightly shook his head, “I’m sorry they upset you enough to make you cry.” Dear god, was it that obvious? She looked away from him and he dropped his arms back to his sides. “I’d like to make it up to you by taking you to dinner tomorrow night”

Excuse me, what?

“What?” She whispered the question.

A small smile graced his lips as he looked down at the ground, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. ”I should’ve said something a while ago,” He started before looking back up at her, “I’ve been following your career for a few years now. All the tweets they showed today? I’ve already seen them. I’ve followed you on twitter for at least a year now.”

EXCUSE ME, WHAT?

How had she never noticed he followed her? She was too stunned to speak, so Pedro continued, “I feel like if I had had the guts to talk to you sooner, then none of this would’ve happened. Which is why I would like to take you out to dinner tomorrow, I’m just sorry that I’m asking you after what just happened.”

Her heart was beating so hard she was sure it was about to jump out of her chest. The blood was rushing through her ears so fiercely, she wasn’t even sure she heard him correctly. Her mind was reeling and it took him letting out a soft chuckle for her to realize she was staring at him like a deer in the headlights. She shook her head to stop her mind from spinning and let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, “Yes, yes, I’d like that.”

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carrionsymptom · 1 year ago

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Take It Easy | The Grabber x Reader

AN: I’m still here!! Can’t promise I will be particularly active, but I am alright. I’ve been busy and had little motivation to write, but I’m slowly getting more. This isn’t the best thing I’ve written, and I cut it off a little early, but I’ll just say my writing skills are rusty and leave it at that. Here’s a quick spiritual successor to Mistaken, but it can be read by itself.

CW: Implied age difference, bit of size kink, some non consensual touching to start, heavy petting

AFAB reader, no pronouns or gendered terms used. Jenga didn’t exist until the 80’s but I had no better metaphors since Tetris also didn’t exist until the 80’s.

There’s so much shit you have to take to college, it’d be a miracle if you can fit it all into the boot of your parent’s sedan, but God help you, you'll try. Boxes of clothes, bedding, a microwave, books, toiletries and whatever odds and ends you can fit get stuffed into the car. You’re lucky your roommate is bringing a mini fridge because there’s no way in hell you’d be able to fit that in with everything else.

While you’re busting your ass playing cardboard-box Jenga, he, walking past, certainly notices your ass sticking out of the car. Clad in too-tight jean shorts, you sway like an invitation and were it not for the prying eyes of the other neighbors, he would’ve fucked you right there. Instead, he sidles up behind you, pressing his hips into yours.

“Need some help?” You leap nearly a foot into the air, dropping the box you were holding and whirling to face your older neighbor. “Woah there kid, y’can’t have a heart attack this young!”

With a shaky hand over your chest, you tentatively smile at him. “Jeez, sorry, you spooked me. Uh, help would be nice.” You slot your work-in-progress box into the car, and he takes his place next to you. He’s clad in an old camp shirt and jeans that look way too thick to be comfortable in this weather, but he doesn’t even break a sweat as he easily hauls box after box into the sedan. If you weren’t so flustered from how his thick forearms graze your side as he brushes past you, you might’ve commented on how strong he is.

You wish you could gather your thoughts for a second, but you can’t help but hone in on the miniscule touches to your lower back as he passes, or how big his hands are when he takes a box out of your arms. Any attempt at conversation seems to end up with you embarrassingly stammering, but he always glances back at you with a half-chuckle and a shake of his head. With his help, packing is quick, and with a sturdy slam, the trunk door shuts.

“Whew!” Your neighbor exclaims, wiping his brow. You try not to stare at the strip of skin that flashes above his belt when he lifts his arm. “Not gonna invite me inside sweetheart?” He all but laughs at the way you freeze and your eyes widen.

You stumble over your words: “Uh, would you– would you like to come inside? I can… I can make some lemonade or something?” Your parents are out, but you’re not sure when they’ll be back. They’d understand inviting your helpful neighbor in to rehydrate after a hard day of lugging boxes, won’t they?

“Or something,” he smiles, sweeping past you into your house. He sits himself at your leather sofa, legs spread wide and looking far too big to be comfortable, but you can see his incisors with how he grins at you. “Really, I’m alright without anything to drink, but I’d still like your company, ‘f that’s ok with you?”

You nod– you have to nod, and make to sit on your dad’s old loveseat, but his mouth creases into a frown so you awkwardly hover.

“Don’t gotta be so far away sweetheart. C’mon,” he pats his thigh. Surely he doesn’t expect you to… “Come on. Climb up.” You wish you had a glass of lemonade now, with how difficult it feels to swallow the lump in your throat.

“I don’t want to crush you.”

Your neighbor barks out a hearty laugh, throwing his head back. You don’t find it particularly funny, but he’s practically wiping a tear out of his eye as he settles down. “Sweetie, you’re not going to crush me. Now up.” With no better argument, you bite your tongue and climb into his lap.

Despite your initial hesitation, you can immediately tell he’s right. There’s no way in hell you’d be able to crush him. His thigh is thick and sturdy– everything about him is sturdy. A rough hand rests on your hip, rubbing little circles into the denim of your shorts while the other plays with the hem of your shirt.

It’s a little awkward though, the way you’re perched on his leg. You balance precariously on the apex of his thigh, teetering a little as he shifts up the couch seat. Your neighbor, he, tuts as you shuffle. “Mmm… a little uncomfortable, huh? Here, why don’t we…”

You yelp as he pulls you closer to him, swinging one leg over so you’re straddling his hips. The crux of your legs meets his, and through the layers of denim, you can feel the hardness in his pants. Christ, even his cock is thick. He lets out a low groan, holding your waist as he pushes his hips up against yours. You buck against him, but aren’t quite able to grind down how you’d like to.

“That’s it,” he sighs. “There you go sweetheart. That’s it.”

You bury your face in his shoulder, murmuring quietly in his ear: “Can I… can I take off my shorts? Please?”

He smiles. “Ah, since you asked so nicely.” You shuffle out of your shorts and he pants as you accidentally graze his cock. “Mmm,” he hums, tucking a finger under the waistband. “Why don’t you take these off too? Make sure you’re extra comfy.”

Once more you shimmy on his lap, out of your underwear, and as you settle back down, the thick seam on his jeans catches against your clit. You let out a whimper, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face into his shoulder. Your neighbor wraps his thick arms around you in return, caging you against him as you bump and grind and move and–

Fuck! You come from nothing but heavy petting, clenching around air and tensing in your neighbor’s strong hold. The physical release is nice, but he’s still hard under you, and you’re struck with an overwhelming need for more. Your hands trail down from his neck, down his chest, until they’re struggling to undo his belt.

“Ah, sweetheart. That’s enough. That’s enough.” He pushes your hips back from his so you’re resting on the middle of his thighs. He laughs as he looks down at his jeans, a wet spot darkening the outline of his still-hard cock. “Shit. Would you look at that? Made a goddamn mess of me, huh honey?”

You suppose you should be feeling some sort of embarrassment, but you can only feel confusion; why did he stop you? “But… you didn’t… I mean, don’t you want to… y’know…” You trail off, head too fuzzy to string together the right words. Your neighbor shakes his head with an easy grin.

“Maybe next time, ok honey? I’m a busy man, I gotta get going. Thanks for such great hospitality though.” He says.

“Can I… I mean will I see you again?”

“You’re goin’ off to college pretty damn soon, aren’t you? Doubt we’ll cross paths again until you get back, sorry to say.”

#the black phone #the grabber x reader #the grabber #the black phone x reader

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t4tozier · 1 month ago

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Idea for a starbreaker au where Porter remains in the mountains of chaos with his Goliath family, never teaching at aguefort but still has (with his family’s support) the plan to become the new god of war.

Only problem is they need someone who knows magic to help with all the ceremonies, getting ambrosia and researching the name etc.

Cue Jace stardiamond acting as a chaperone for the high five heroes (the rat grinders) for their spring break quest.

It was almost embarrassingly easy to trail the group, lead/chase a few monsters their way and in the confusion grab Jace while the kids run away and when a search party is later sent and they don’t find a body, well that’s just further proof that sorcery professor Jace Stardiamond is dead.

Jace is of course incredibly pissed off and scared at suddenly being taken hostage and collared (anti magic collar, can’t have him just teleporting away or anything) by a group of giant kin (maybe even a tiny bit excited, sue him he’s had fantasy’s about this exact scenario before).

Cue him meeting Porter and the plan being explained to him (I’m not sure if Porter all the rest of them should speak common fluently if for nothing else than I love a good language barrier between characters in fics) and that if he works with him than once he ascends he’ll be rewarded with saint hood and if he doesn’t, well the outside world already believe he’s dead, not like anyone’s gonna come looking for him if they make it true.

Also Jace and Porter getting into an extremely fucked up sexually driven bad power dynamics relationship featuring Jace proving that he can be sassy even as a kidnap victim and Porter someone being even more of an arrogant bastard than in canon thanks to his family’s support. Xx

pt 2: To go with the au I mentioned previously of Porter being raised in the chaos of mountains au and capturing Jace to help with the whole make me a god plan, I have now officially decided that there’s definitely a language barrier if for nothing else than comedic potential.

Like imagine Jace being brought to Porter, who’s sitting on his ‘throne’, war hammer by his side surrounded by loyal soldiers as he goes into a big impressive speech about his plans to kill a long forgotten god, restore the name cliffbreaker to its rightful glory and make himself the new god of war etc.

He turns to look at Jace, expecting to see awe, wonder and fear in his eyes.

Instead he just looks completely baffled and surprised/scared by the entire situation.

That’s when it finally occurs to him, its reeeally unlikely that Jace would speak Goliath and did seriously no one think to cast comprehend langue or something (he’s the heir to the cliffbreakers and future god of war, he shouldn’t have to worry about such details).

So in what little broken common he does now Porter tries to explain his grand plan to jace, but this just ends up confusing him more and now jace is starting to wonder if there was a natural gas leak or lead in their water supply or something because this entire situation is insane.

This proves to especially be a problem when a number of books on gods, ceremonies and ascension (thankfully written in common) are dumped on Jace, who figures ok yeah they definitely want me to read these, but can’t figure out why.

That is until he’s shown an ambrosia ceremony that’s meant to help prepare porters mortal body for godhood. And without even thinking about it starts fixing shit (it’s the teacher in him along with just being anal and unable to a stand a mess) e.g cleaning up a very important part of a symbol, adding his own magic power to certain areas for better effect and rewriting certain parts of the spell etc.

Once he realises that he’s just interrupted and messed with for all he knows could be an extremely important culturally significant event he’s sure that he’s going to be killed.

Only for everyone to look at him expectedly as Porter comes up to him and clasps him on the shoulders as he says something in Goliath that he can’t understand but he sounds happy and almost proud.

Then clearly concentrating and thinking of the right words in broken common with an extremely heavy accent he says “Good! Need magic, need you!”

Also after an initial struggle to escape that yeah proves pointless, Jace decides to deploy a new tactic. That is turning on the puppy dog eyes and acting scared and pathetic enough so that the group guarding him will hopefully take pity on him and lower their defences.

It’s super effective, which is how Porter somehow came back to a previously tied up Jace now free sitting comfortably on a chair with a blanket and fresh cup of tea.

Also Porter (and other Goliaths) not being used to elves/half elves and somewhat fascinated by how delicate and pretty Jace is;

Random Goliath holding Jace up by the scuff of his clothing so they’re the same height: “do you think all elves are this small or is it just this one?”

Porter grabbing Jace away from him: “you idiot! He’s an important part of the plan, you can’t just go picking him up like a toy whenever you want! (Porter deliberately ignoring the fact that he’s currently doing the same to jace and any feelings of jealousy at seeing another man holding Jace)

Jace desperately in his head to himself “DO NOT GET HARD DO NOT GET HARD! I REPEAT DO NOT GET HARD RIGHT NOW JACE STARDIAMOND!”

Also Jace entertaining a group of Goliath children with his magic, making sparks and pretty colours etc while Porter watches and starts to imagine that those kids were his and jaces instead.

okay i'm gonna be so fr w u. my brain is mush. but the one thought that i did have about these first parts was that jace gradually begins to pick up bits and pieces of goliath just by recognizing the patterns and he constantly hears the other goliaths referring to porter with a set of sounds he assumes must be his name. so one day he gives it a shot. imagine porter's surprise when jace comes to him and says in a voice stilted and far too soft for the guttural language, "good morning, my lord." he hadn't realized jace picked up any of the language, but what's more is that he keeps hearing the elf's voice in his head. my lord, my lord, my lord.

pt 3: Jace is not allowed to leave porters side, partly as a security measure (even with the shatter star and collar porters still not taking any chances on Jace somehow escaping) also so that Jace can be seen as sort of a prize and trophy like ‘look at this powerful sorcerer now under my control’.

Once the initial anger at his situation mostly fades away I imagine Jace starts to get a bit depressed at his forced servitude and magical restraint. Porter takes note of this and in his own fucked up way tries to make Jace feel welcome and important e.g starts giving him better clothes and bedding, takes him to the forest so he can let out and practice his magic and gets very protective when others try to poke and prod or otherwise bully Jace.

I think it’s at this point they start sleeping together, Jace is desperate for any kind of comfort and protection he can get in this situation and yes this may be an extremely fucked up fantasy of his.

Porter being nice to him is just the last straw and he one night just throws himself at Porter fully wanting to just forget his situation and lose himself in passion and pleasure even if it’s for only one night (also Porter originally did make Jace sleep in his own makeshift bed in his room but after that night he fully gets rid of the set up and has Jace sleep in his bed).

Porter is initially shocked by this but is quickly like ‘oh hell yeah’ and the sex is to put it frankly amazing best either of them have ever had. Porter who up until now has only ever slept with other giant kin is fascinated by how much smaller and delicate Jace us compared to him constantly trying to get his mouth and hands on every part of Jace, he also at least initially tries to be as gentle as he can with Jace somewhat convinced if he goes to hard or fast he’ll break Jace in to. Though he quickly realises Jace is tougher than he looks and definitely likes it a bit rough anyway.

Jace is so needy, stressed and pent up that he almost immediately goes into sub space just letting Porter do whatever he wants and doing his best to just be good and make Porter feel good.

The next morning Porter mostly acts like nothing really happened and Jace just kinda shrugs and goes ‘well that was fun guess it’s time to go back to being a kidnap victim’.

That is until a particularly rowdy group of Goliaths come up while porters distracted and start pulling up/down his clothes to get a look at the bruises and hickeys etc left behind. He still doesn’t understand most of what they’re saying but he doesn’t need to in order to know that it’s not good.

Porter fully clocks the one currently holding Jaces arm so he can’t escape, knocking him out cold. Jace doesn’t really understand a lot of what Porter said but he does recognise a number of swears along with the word ‘mine’ ‘my’ and ‘elf’.

He’s suddenly swept of his feet and in a moment finds himself on porters lap who’s sitting on his ‘throne’ petting Jaces hair and glaring at anyone who dares to get close.

Also Porter in bed one night after him and Jace start their ‘relationship’ watching a sleeping fucked out jace, when almost subconsciously he reaches up and runs his fingers over the mage collar.

Jace is still sleeping and Porter makes a decision, he presses the markers that will snap the collar open and release Jace. He’s not sure what Jace will do instantly teleport away, try to kill him or not even notice he’s in such a deep sleep.

Jace instantly shoots awake, the feeling of his magic suddenly fully returning to him so jarring. He stares at the collar now lying on the bed sheet for a moment before looking at Porter who’s watching him expectantly. He dies something that Porter didn’t except he grins almost manically before launching himself at Porter and kissing him deeply on the mouth and makes no attempt to leave (Stockholm syndrome or true love? U decide)

okay love this. i love a captor/captive relationship that gradually turns into true feelings and i think that's the case here i think it is a two way thing. porter needs jace, but he's also endlessly intrigued by this strange commoner who's a lot stronger than people give him credit for. and jace could leave if he wanted to, but he wants to learn more about porter and what it actually is that he's trying to do, and porter taking the collar off is the turning point for their relationship because jace can actually prove himself and defend himself and he. very much appreciates that. and then they eventually fall in love fr <33

pt 4: After everything that’s happened with ya know being murdered, resurrected and then kidnapped Jaces clothes are filthy and torn up and just not savable even with mending.

And it’s not like they have anything in his size just lying around so Jace ends up the Goliath equivalent to young teen sized clothes that while more or less fit him length wise absolutely do not not width wise. He’s practically swamped in them and ends up having to wrap them around and tie them up in a few difficult places just so they’ll fit.

Also the long Jace stays and the more Porter and his relationship develop the better the clothing gets. It’s starts with hand me downs just being tailored to actually fit him, then basic clothing that’s specifically made for him that gets more elaborate and made of finer materials etc over time and even ends with Porter gifting Jace jewellery and other accessories to go with the outfits.

nothing to say about this one. love it.

pt 5: So I’ve been thinking more about how the heir Porter au could end, I was originally thinking of just the plan succeeds without the bad kids to stop them and Porter becomes the new god of war and jace is first saint etc.

But I think that’s kinda boring so instead I’m imagining that somehow the bad kids find out about Ankarna, manage to resurrect her to her former self and reunite her with Cassandra. They are aware that somewhere out there people are doing some shady stuff trying to find her name and bring her back in her corrupted form but don’t know who or why, they’re much more concerned with just finding the name to try and save her and Cassandra since they figure if they do that then the enemies plans won’t matter anyway and they or someone else can track them down afterwards.

So Ankarnas back and she’s aware of what Porter was planning and doing to her while corrupted so she decides to personally pay him a visit. Porter has no idea what’s going one second he’s on a hunting trip when all off a sudden he’s pulled into some kind of fiery crystal afterlife and faced with the giant form of the goddess he planned to kill and take the place of.

It’s impossible to lie to a god in their own realm so when ankarna states down at him and simply asks “why?” He spills everything. About how much pressure he felt to lead and restore the cliffbreakers, about how yes his original plan was to kill her and become the new god of war but how he’s started to not believe in the plan and wonder about different ways he can restore his clans glory.

Not through pure bloodlust and conquest but through building connections, learning and becoming stronger together (sorry if this is too ooc but I think having an entire clan of people he cares about to lead and keep safe would cause Porter to think about his actions more and be more responsible).

Ankarna asks him what’s changed and he barely above a whisper responds “Jace”

Ankarna; the half elf you killed, resurrected with a shatter star and kept captive for months?!

Porter: well when you put it like that.

She’s so confused and disturbed that she pulls Jace into her afterlife to talk just to hear his side of the story. She does and while they’re are a lot of ‘are you ok, do I need to call someone’ moments ultimately she believes Jace when he says that he believes Porter can change and do good leading the cliffbreakers in a new direction.

So the cliffbreakers once again become official followers of ankarna excepting her duly for the goddess she is (also when I came up with this au I had no idea what a wholesome ending I would create, it was much more just starbreaker but with a language barrier and cultural differences. Yet somehow the au that involves Porter kidnapping and collaring Jace ends up with a happy ever after ending ha ha).

Also Jace definitely does go back/visit elmville with Porter and absolutely shocks everyone when the local presumed dead high school sorcery teacher suddenly turns up like ‘hi guys so I’ve been alive this whole time and kidnapped/adopted by a clan of Goliaths. Speaking of which this is their leader Porter, we’re officially dating now, isn’t he handsome 😊.’

god yeah!! no i could see it happening tbh. also crying at the image of jace bringing porter back to elmville and everyone just being like. wtaf we thought you were dead what do you MEAN you've just been sucking and fucking this whole time

pt 6: The rat grinders, in particular Lucy since she’s such a kind soul, feeling guilty about basically abandoning Jace in the mountains of chaos.

Lucy spends days scouring different afterlives, communing with her goddess and trying to find Jaces spirit. She ends up coming to the conclusion that either Jaces soul is lost somewhere she can’t reach or he’s somehow still alive.

She does end up convincing the rat grinders to travel to the mountains of chaos with her in what the others are convinced is a futile corpse retrieval mission. They’re in their minds proven right when they manage to find the spot where Jace was ‘killed’ and find no evidence of a body (they believe a monster must have eaten him then and there or just dragged him off).

Lucy makes one last attempt to contact Jaces spirit (since it’s where he died the connection should be strongest) but nothing happens and she finally gives up feeling dejected.

When Jace returns alive and well poor Lucy is so happy, she runs up to hug him and just begins weeping talking about how she knew he must still be alive, how worried she was and how much she tried to find him.

oughhh jace and lucy,,,i love her so bad. i think jace does maybe hold some guilt over not going back once porter loosened the reins but once they return to elmville jace promises that he'll visit even if he goes back to the mountains of chaos and he does keep that promise because he missed his kids </3

pt 6.5: The Goliaths celebrating some kind of giant holiday or killing of a particular monster where they have a big feast with plenty of food, partying and alcohol.

And look Jace isn’t that stupid, he knows getting drunk around them is a terrible idea for so many safety reasons. But damm it the whole situation has been so stressful and had him on constant edge 24/7 and the Goliaths keep handing him drinks that he’s too scared to refuse so instead politely excepts and just does his best to drink slowly.

Only he hasn’t had a sip of alcohol in months now and predictably Goliath drinks are a lot stronger than what he’s used to. Before he even realises it he’s a wasted, giggling/crying mess that’s leaning against the nearest Goliath for support.

Porters pretty distracted with everything going on at the party and honestly a bit tipsy himself so doesn’t notice Jace being further away from him than usual. By the time he does think to notice he easily spots a clearly drunk Jace surrounded by a group of Goliaths watching the half elf in amusement.

He snorts out a laugh, honestly letting himself be put into such a vulnerable position while surrounded by the enemy. If the world outside the mountains is anything like Jace then once he becomes the new god of war they won’t stand chance.

It’s only when they begin to close in more around Jace and he notices hands begin to roam where they shouldn’t, caressing and tweaking those long ears, dipping below and under his top and cupping his ass and bulge that Porter decides to put a stop to it.

He walks up firmly pulls away a barely awake Jace while reminding the Goliath that even if Jace is their prisoner there’s still certain lines they will not cross.

He rather unceremoniously dumps Jace into his own makeshift bed in the corner of the room before leaving to once gain join the party. However Jace does wake up the next morning to find a pitcher of water and strips of bark that’s he’s seen Goliaths chew on due to its minor pain relieving properties.

highkey obsessed w this. you know here at t4tozier the one thing u can always depend on me for is intox kink. but i do appreciate porter being like okay guys. if anyone is gonna fuck him when he's drunk it's gonna be me. but he also can barely stand i want our first time to be special <33 also porter taking care of a hungover jace is something that can be so personal

pt 6.75: Jace realising since none of them speak common or elvish he can insult them as much as he wants straight to their faces as long as he doesn’t let it show in tone or expression.

Porter to random Goliath: he keeps repeating ‘fucking moron’ while I’m near, what do you think it means?

Random Goliath: no idea, maybe it’s common for great leader or something?

Jace not knowing why but having the sudden urge to insult Porter more than usual: Your a fucking moron and your plan sucks.

Random Goliath: see he looked right at you as he said that, he must be asking for mercy and and calling you a title worthy of your place (I mean he’s technically right 🤣)

Porter once everythings over with the plan failing the clan deciding to follow a resurrected ankarna etc does eventually start learning common to better interact with Jace and people outside the mountains and learns that Jace was actively insulting him the entire time. Honestly he’s not even mad, he does kinda deserve it after the whole keeping Jace hostage and forcing him to work on the plan thing, plus he finds it kinda hilarious especially when he learns a few of the creative things Jace managed to come up with.

pt 7: Porter and the Goliaths initially only calling Jace ‘elf’ both in giant and when talking to him in broken common (I knows he’s half elf but I don’t think they’d particularly care about the distinction; he’s got long pointy ears and can do magic, therefore he’s an elf).

This is done on purpose, as kind of a youre not a person anymore your just our prisoner and a tool to us and you don’t even deserve a name (look I know I said previously this au ends fluffy, but it definitely doesn’t start out that way). It’s as his relationship to Porter and the Goliaths develops that they start to use his actual name more and more until he’s just Jace.

yeagh,,i love jace also gradually getting to get closer with the other goliaths as well. also like jace teaching them common and them teaching jace goliath. neither of them are great at the others' language but they eventually figure out enough to communicate !

thank you for all of ur thoughts i love this au!!

#starbreaker #jace stardiamond #porter cliffbreaker #heir porter au #nsft #alcohol cw

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runninggolden · 2 years ago

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Certified ‘Pain In The Ass’ (part 1)

Leonard McCoy x female OC (can be read as x reader)

word count: 3530

a/n: Hello! I’m writing again! This is an old fic of mine that didn’t work out. But I liked it a lot so I decided to strip it down to its bare bones and write it all over again and now it works! I’m still editing part 2 but it should be up soon! I’m on AO3 as RunningGolden :)

This was originally an x reader fic but I accidentally gave the reader too much personality so I just made her an OC. Whoops. You can still imagine her as ‘reader’, I don’t describe her looks at all and I only gave her a surname. Her personality is very strong, though.

This is sort of enemies to friends to lovers. The enemies part is more of a backstory though.

summary: Her friendship with Leonard was a strange one. They’d banter a lot, she’d playfully joke with him and he’d roll his eyes and occasionally fail to fight a smile. He’d drag her to med-bay everytime she even got a papercut and she pretended to be inconvenienced by it. Oh, and she was deeply, embarrassingly, in love with him. (part 1 of 2)

warnings: profanity, injuries, blood, aliens, danger, OC is a little shit lmao, they’re both idiots, literally children pulling each others pigtails, almost painful pining

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When she met Leonard McCoy for the first time, she quickly discovered how easy it was to annoy him. One, admittedly dumb, comment and he whirled on her with a scowl that seemed to permanently reside on his face and frustration seeping out his pores as he snarled; “Damn it, I’m a doctor not a frog! The bio bed is stuck 5 meters up in the air and you suggest ‘jumping’?! Why does everyone insist on being a pain in my ass today?!”

She laughed in his face.

That clearly wasn't the reaction the doctor expected if his look of disgruntled confusion was anything to go off. He looked her up and down, seemingly only then realizing that he did not recognize the person he just scolded.

"Hold on, who the hell are you?"

She smirked, his obvious bad mood dangling in front of her face like candy on a string. And boy, did she have a sweet tooth. "Oh, you haven't heard? I’m Chief Security Officer Flynn. They hired me to be a pain in your ass. Anyway, have you tried a trampoline?"

Despite her new job on the Enterprise keeping her quite busy, being Leonard McCoy's certified ‘pain in the ass’ was a role she took up enthusiastically. Annoying the notable doctor quickly became her favorite hobby. Bothering him in med-bay, crashing his drinking sessions with the Captain and proclaiming something dumb to get him to argue with her (much to the Captain's amusement), offering more useless comments for him to rant about. It was all a fun distraction from an otherwise stressful move to a new starship.

It was simple, really. A simple game, a simple back-and-forth, a simple source of entertainment.

But it didn’t take her very long to discover that there was absolutely nothing simple about Doctor Leonard McCoy.

There was just something special about him that kept her coming back for more. She couldn't stop seeking him out, bantering with him, learning things about him, trying to get him to laugh at her jokes. It didn't take very long for her to forget it was supposed to be simple.

He didn't make it easy, either. He claimed to absolutely loathe her and immediately seized any chance to argue with her, to complain about her, to glare at her. And of all the things she's learned about him, his god-awful (and overly dramatic) acting skills might just be her favorite.

You didn't have to be a genius to tell that despite his colorful language, his words were never harsh. He scowled like he got paid for it but his expressions were never cold. And for someone who claimed that she was the unfunniest person in the universe, he sure covered up a lot of laughs with ill-placed coughs.

If you had asked anyone on the ship, they would’ve told you that he enjoyed their arguments even more than she did.

Perhaps she was also a distraction to him. Perhaps life in between all the action on the Enterprise was so dreadfully boring, that her antics kept him somewhat entertained. Perhaps underneath all the cynical theatrics, he liked having her around.

It took a year into the Enterprise's new mission for them to develop a strange sort of friendship. He begrudgingly made space for her in his life and she toned down her antics. From time to time he stopped acting like she was the bane of his existence and every now and then she opened the floor to friendly conversations. She’d playfully joke with him and he’d roll his eyes and occasionally fail to fight a smile. He’d drag her to med-bay everytime she even got a papercut and she pretended to be inconvenienced by it. They still bantered a lot, but it was softer, somehow.

And it took one moment for her to mess it all up.

She made him laugh, really laugh, and suddenly it all made sense. It was all building up to this, all the bad jokes, all the pitiful attempts, they all came to this moment. And god was it worth it. He let out a hearty, belly-aching laugh and his eyes crinkled at the corners and it was like the stars aligned and heavens opened up. She finally saw the light and was lit up by it from the inside, her heart engulfed in flame by a single sound. It lasted only a moment and she was immediately thirsting for more. Thirsting like she was sweltering in the desert and the only thing that could quench her thirst was hearing that goddamn laugh again. Preferably on her lips. Whilst wrapped in his embrace.

Of course, of course this is what it was about the entire goddamn time!

Oh. Oh, I am so screwed.

“Leonard! It’s your favorite patient!” Her call was followed by an exasperated sigh and the screech of a chair. The Med-Bay was quiet that day, only a handful of people littered about and the only notable sound that could be heard was the occasional cough.

“What did you do this ti-“ Leonard abruptly stopped mid-sentence as soon as he rounded the corner and spotted her standing in the doorway clutching her bloody hand. “My god, what the hell did you do?!” He ran up to her and gently took her hand to examine it. She smiled at him sheepishly.

“Challenged Sulu to a duel… again… we got a little carried off.” She chuckled and he gave her the look. His famous ‘I can’t believe I have to deal with this bullshit’ look that most people would whither from in shame. Not her though, no, she reveled in it. She wasn't sure if it was because of her persistent desire to annoy him or that she just liked being in the center of his attention. Perhaps a bit of both.

"Again?! Last time he almost cut you in half and you decided to have another go?!" His arms folded disapprovingly across his chest as he glared at her. Apparently her cut wasn't life-threatening enough to skip a lecture.

She scoffed. “Oh, relax, I was fine, he barely grazed me.”

“You were out of commission for a week!”

“Yeah, because you banned me from moving!”

“You would’ve ripped your stitches out!”

"I would've been careful!"

"You seriously expect me to believe that?"

Fair point. “Okay, fine. I promise to never again intentionally get into another sword fighting duel with potentially the greatest sword fighter in outer space.” She promised in a flat voice, fingers crossed behind her back, before grimacing and quickly adding; "Don't tell Sulu I said that."

“You’re a menace.” He grumbled with an eye roll as he led her to the nearest med-bed and started to clean the wound. A stray hair rebelled from his neatly combed hair and she couldn’t help but think how adorable he looked as he continued berating her, each comment decorated with increasingly creative insults.

“Oh, Dr. McCoy… I love it when you talk dirty to me.” She breathed and sent him with a sultry look, successfully stopping his rant short. She snickered as she felt his hands still on hers for a moment before he fixed her with a glare. He drew in a deep breath and opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. He shook his head with a sigh, and went back to treating her wound.

Huh, that was weird. Managing to fluster Bones was no easy feat, but shutting him up? That’s rare. She could proudly say she's done it twice before, but this one felt different. Feeling like she was on the verge of something awkward, she decided to change the subject as quickly as possible.

“Besides, next time… I’m finally going to beat Sulu at his own game.” She declared, breathing an inward sigh of relief as he immediately latched onto the distraction.

“What happened to ‘never getting into another sword fight’?” He narrowed his eyes.

“I crossed my fingers when I said that.”

He threw his hands up in the air. “I cannot fathom how someone would let you be the Chief Security Officer on this ship!” He exclaimed dramatically, not for the first time, but only earned a grin from her.

“Obviously someone saw how awesome I am.”

“Obviously!” He repeated sarcastically. She snorted and watched his hands work on the cut Sulu so graciously gave her, admiring the way his long fingers gently applied a healing ointment on her wound. His hands were steady, precise, practiced in the art of taking care of someone. His fingernails were better manicured than hers could ever hope to be, cut with a surgeon's precision. He had a few scars, faint white lines decorating his skin, along with a few freckles. His touch was soft, so soft she barely felt it, and she wondered, not for the first time, how a man with such a strong personality could be so gentle. Be so kind.

Despite his sardonic wit, brusque demeanor and his immense hatred for stupidity, Leonard kept surprising her with just how big his heart was. He was compassionate and cared deeply about all living things. He could curse your entire bloodline whilst nursing you gently back to health. He could hate space with a burning passion but still follow you into a black hole to make sure you were alright. They could be in the middle of an argument about her clumsiness (or lack thereof, in her opinion) and he’d still grab her just as she was about to fall over, which would’ve won him the argument. She thought about that moment embarrassingly often.

One of his hands picked hers up and cradled it, warm and comforting, as the other picked up a dermal regenerator and let the soft glow illuminate her hand. She barely registered the warmth from the regenerator, the feel of Leonard’s hands was way too distracting. She tried not to think about the fact that he did not need to hold her like that, she’s seen him use the dermal regenerator a million times by now and he never touches someone during the process. It was unnecessary. Yet there he was…

Her heart was hammering in her chest. Silently cursing, she tried to regain control over her traitorous body before the doctor could notice. She was fighting the urge to shiver… and the instinct to grab his face and kiss him.

I’m gonna go insane. I’m gonna go insane because of Leonard’s McCoy’s hands.

“Did you remember to take your medicine this morning?” He suddenly asked, frowning at the report on his tricorder. She shook herself, realizing he had finished wrapping her hand whilst she had her private freak-out. He still gently held her hand with one of his, thumb stroking her palm as the screen distracted him.

She fought the urge to scream and melt into a puddle, simultaneously.

“Uh… yeah! Of course.” She lied. Crap. She totally forgot. He didn’t seem to believe her in the slightest.

“Oh, really?” He arched an eyebrow and stared her down. Usually she could stare back all day with the same stubborn attitude as him, but she was so distracted by the feel of his thumb - he's still doing it! - and silently cursed when she felt her face heat up. Looking away, she decided to just give in.

“Okay, I forgot.” She mumbled and he threw his hands in the air. Her shoulders subtly sagged as his hand left hers. Thank god, having a heart attack because of a thumb would've been embarrassing.

“I swear to god, do I need to physically come to your quarters and shove them down your throat so you’ll remember?” He shook his head at her and she would’ve thought he was furious if it wasn’t for the way he looked at her.

That look. God, she knew she had an unhealthy addiction for the man but he did not help when he looked at her like that. Like he was secretly loving this ridiculous thing between them, too. Like their bantering fueled him as much as it fueled her. She mentally begged her face to return to its original color and looked at him pointedly, with crossed arms, faking bravado. His eyebrows inched up as he mimicked her movements.

“I’d like to see you try.” She tried to sound intimidating but couldn‘t fight the smile growing on her face.

“Oh, I will.” He said, leaning forward, the corners of his mouth twitching. For a moment they simply stared at each other, competing in a wordless game, eyes locked in a heated battle, when the sudden clearing of a throat prompted them to look up at a grinning Jim.

“Okay, so whenever you guys are done flirting, I need you to go on a mission.” His grin grew wider as the two people in front of him blushed and Leonard took a step back, furrowing his brows and fiddling with his tricorder. She was about to retort when the latter part of Jim’s sentence registered and her heart stuttered for a different reason.

“A mission? I’m in.” She beamed and was about to jump off the bed when a hand stopped her.

“Oh ho, no, you’re not, you’re hurt.” Leonard kept his hand on her arm to hold her in place. Again with the touching! She rolled her eyes.

“I’m fine, see?” She flexed her bandaged hand for them to see, it was still painful, but she wasn’t going to mention that.

“It could be challenging and considering you’re still healing, I’m not clearing you. You’re not going.” Leonard‘s tone indicated there was no room for arguments but unluckily for him, she could always argue.

“I’m going.” She whacked his hand away and jumped off the bed.

“You’re not going.” He tried to push her back on her bed but she wouldn’t budge.

“I’m going!” She said with determination. They started staring each other down again, ignoring Jim‘s chuckles beside them.

“Aw look at you two; you’re like an old married couple!” He cooed and successfully made them stop to glare at him.

“Shut up, Jim!” They said simultaneously, making Jim double over with laughter. She grimaced. He was definitely going to tease them about that. She just hoped it wouldn’t be in public, like the last time.

“Captain, permission to go on this mission?” She turned to Jim fully, ignoring Leonard‘s attempts to get her to sit down.

“Permission granted.” He nodded as he tried to catch his breath and she turned to Leonard with a triumphant smile.

“See? Captains’ orders.”

“Jim!“ He yelled at the Captain. „Well I say she can‘t, Doctor‘s orders.“

„Which one is more important?“ She stage-whispered to Jim and he opened his mouth to reply when Leonard cut him off.

„Mine.“ Fine, he wants to be stubborn? She‘ll just have to resort to desperate measures. Sighing dramatically, she melted away the tension in her body and took a step towards him.

„Len…" His eyebrow quirked at her quiet tone, but she ignored it and plowed through. "I really want to get outside, you know how uncomfortable I can get all cooped up in here. Remember the last time I skipped a mission? I almost went insane! It’s not like it’s my dominant hand, anyway...“ She gave him her best puppy dog eyes, hoping to god he‘ll just let her go. She was glad the Med-Bay was nearly empty at this point, her reputation would be in ruins at this pathetic display.

Darn him and his ability to make her chuck away her own pride.

He looked like he was about to argue, but she stopped him before he could by bringing out the big guns. "Please?"

She absolutely hated using that word and he knew it. She could tell he was going over her argument in his head and debating whether it was worth it. Glaring at her for a moment longer, he pinched his nose and let his shoulders drop.

„Fine, but I’m giving you a boost so your skin heals faster, even though I’m not supposed to, and you have to promise to stay close.” He relented and jabbed a finger at her. She jumped and beamed at him and he visibly softened.

“Don’t I always?” She gave his arm a squeeze as a thank you. He shook his head, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Why do I even try?” He muttered. She just wiggled her eyebrows in response, already skipping away to get herself ready for the mission.

„Wait, that worked?“ Jim suddenly piped up, confused as to what just happened.

„Shut up, Jim.“

“-It’s a desert area, but there is a forest nearby that we can’t really get a reading on, we’ll just try to stay away from it for now, just in case.” Suited up and struggling with an armful of equipment, she listened to Jim drone on about the mission whilst the rest of the team gathered on the transportation pads. It was a simple run of sample collection but since it was mostly unknown territory, security was required to keep watch. The bright eyed new security recruit and her would have the exciting job of just standing there. But at least she's getting outside. Just the thought of the wind in her hair had her buzzing in excitement.

“Just in case?” Leonard froze and she chuckled.

“It’ll be fine, Len, like Jim said, we’ll only be a few hours.” She shot him a grin and he muttered curses under his breath and something that sounded like ‘fine, my ass’ but she couldn’t be sure as the feeling of transportation took over and her feet sunk in sand.

She closed her eyes and breathed in the sudden hot air. It was warm, almost overbearingly so, and there was a sickly sweet smell in the air. The air, god, there wasn't much wind but the subtle caress on her skin was enough to make her head tilt back and grin towards the sky. Her eyes opened to a captivating mix of pink and purple. Three yellow moons stretched across the atmosphere and she was overwhelmingly glad she got Leonard to stop arguing like a paranoid mule and let her join. She looked down to comment on it when something made her freeze.

She was alone.

Spinning around in confusion only gave her more questions than answers. The sand under her boots seemed to cover a rocky landscape which was dotted with strange cacti-like plants. They were tall, but not tall enough to be trees. Their thorns were larger than that of a cactus and made walking around them difficult. They cast dark shadows that stretched across the barren ground, only interrupted by a few pathetic looking bushes.

It was quiet. The kind of quiet that made you flinch at the sound of your own breath.

She fought the sudden surge of panic as she hastily searched for her comm, ready to ask what the hell was going on, when a voice suddenly piped up from it, making her jump.

“Landing party has successfully reached its destination.” Jim's voice sounded distorted. Was her comm broken?

“Uh, sorry to burst your bubble, Jim, but I think I’ve lost you.” She spoke into the comm as she started walking around, trying to catch sight of her team.

“What?” A pause. “Wait, where the hell are you Flynn?!”

“Ah, Captain, something ----- happened with the transport-----at caused Flynn to be transported els------.” Scotty's voice sounded even worse and he kept cutting out. She turned her comm around, assessing for damage. It seemed fine.

“What do you mean elsewhere? Where is she?” Jim was starting to sound as panicked as she felt. She had a bad feeling in her gut and she couldn’t shake it. She thought she saw movement out of the corner of her eye and swiveled only to be met with another blasted cactus. She raised the comm to her mouth again, eyes fixated on the plant.

“Jim, when you said forest, was it possibly a forest made of… uh, cacti-looking things?” She asked in a low voice and gripped the equipment in her arms tighter.

“She’s in the forest?! The ‘let’s stay clear of those, just in case’ forest?” Leonard’s voice both soothed her and panicked her even further with its words. Yep, something was definitely off. She looked around again, the back of her neck prickling with the feeling of being watched.

“Calm down, Len, I’m sure Scotty can beam me away…. Right, Scotty?” She tried to calm down enough to reassure them both. She would be fine, Scotty would sweep in any second and beam her up. She was met with silence. “Scotty?”

“Ah, eh, no, not exactly— can’t detect— there’s something in there—- disturbing the process.” He sounded apologetic, but she stopped listening halfway through. She saw movement again, this time right in front of her. Did that… no, did it?

“…any idea of what it is?” Jim asked. The movement happened again, this time enough to confirm her suspicions. Before she could react, the cactus in front of her literally started moving towards her.

“Holy shit!”

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sorry to end on a cliffhanger lmao >:) tell me what you think! part 2 should be up in the next couple of days! it will be longer ;)

#Leonard McCoy #leonard mccoy x reader #bones x reader #leonard mccoy x oc #leonard mccoy x you #star trek fanfiction #karl urban x reader #fanfiction #bones x oc

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whatfamidoinghere · 3 months ago

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The Umbrella Academy Season 4 Final Thoughts

I have opinions I need to share. Obviously spoilers ahead so… enter at your own risk?

Firstly, the positives

To give it some credit, this was a beautiful ending. It was technically the only way they could end it bc it was clear no matter what they did, the apocalypse would follow

I loved the reference to them saving the Eiffel Tower in an alternate timeline, like they did in the comics

…yeh, that’s it

Oh wait, I loved Klaus’ relationship with Claire. I love Klaus. I love everything about him. Thank you. End quote

Now for the negatives - this will be in no coherent order so bare with me

It’s embarrassingly clear that this needed its usual 10 episodes. I think I read somewhere that the director felt that 6 episodes were the perfect amount so maybe Netflix didn’t cut it, or perhaps he was trying to make the best of a shitty situation. But every scene felt like it was missing something.

Where was the family dance sesh???

Five and Lila. No. Just. No. They’re begrudging step-sibling and that is it. And even if they did want to go down this direction, even if I wasn’t so opposed to the ship, I just didn’t care. You can’t just time skip 7 years in 1 episode and simultaneously get me to feel invested in their relationship. They needed 2 episodes at least to make me feel the impact of those 7 years. I know for 5 that’s probably nothing compared to his time in the apocalypse, but to Lila, that would’ve driven her insane, and in her breaking point, that’s when she goes to 5, bit like how they did this. Not to mention, they come back looking the exact same. 5 is supposed to be, what, 27 at this point? I sure as hell don’t see it. I would’ve much preferred a scene where, once Lila releases they’re going back home, frantically tries to clean up and cut her hair to look exactly how she did before so that her family still recognise her. Ugh that entire point was just so shit

The baby shark gag was not funny

Why did Diego and Lila have to have twins as well. I get it, they’re tired parents who miss their glory days. But if you want us to feel really sorry for them, and later mourn them when Lila has to say goodbye, maybe let us see the family interact as… as well as family. I was so excited to see Diego in his real daddy era just for him to talk to his oldest daughter maybe once? ALSO why does Lila get that whole emotional goodbye to her children and Diego just, nothing? “Get the family out of here” umm hello, even if you didn’t like the in-laws, those are 3 of your fucking children that you’re saying goodbye to forever. I think I’m just upset that they reduced Lila to being a tired mother (to me anyway) and forget Diego was the father. I would’ve so rather seen him being the dad that he never had in his life.

Like putting the family on the Subway to nowhere. Literally. It’s not like she knew how the Subway worked so she was just sticking her family on the train and hoping for the best. They made it seem as though they had never found a world safe enough. Like truly the best place for them to stay was the fucking Greenhouse world, so how did she expect the family to survive, and with no powers mind you. And also didn’t thy know at that point that all ultimate timelines would be destroyed, except for the main timeline. Was she hoping they’d magicallly be taken to the main timeline orrr? I’m just so fucking confused man

The Subway. What a fucking missed opportunity oh my fucking god. Its only true function was to have all the Five’s meet up to tell Prime Five the super duper important convenient information that would bring upon The Finale. It was such a cool concept and we saw… none of it. Firstly, they made it wayyy to easy that Five just happened to find a journal his future self made that worked out the tunnel system. You’re telling me that in 7 years he never worked any of it out. Uhhh I just wanted to see how the Subway worked and we couldn’t even get that. AND they only showed us 1 world!!!! I think alternate timelines are such a. Fun concept because you can explore multiple worlds that are like your own but a little more freaky with little to no consequences in your own world. I LOVED seeing the Phoenix Academy so much but… that was it. Imagine a montage of Five and Lila visiting a ton of worlds like our own with messed up Academy. Can you imagine if we saw a comic accurate Umbrella Academy??? Omfg the ultimate homage. I’m tearing up just thinking about what we could’ve had.

Gene and Jean were rly fun but again, what waisted potential. I loved my quirky not-so-instance parents sm

Uncle Five? Uncle Luther? Gone. Maybe I’m misremembering but they always seemed so excited to meet Claire. Ik they’re pissed at Alison or whatever (but they’re literally not though) but you’re telling me we never see them interact, despite them being some of the only sibling to care about Claire??? Oh okay, okayyy

The powers. Does nobody care that some have multiple powers now orrr? So Lila had laser eyes but could still mimic everyone else. Also the running gag of not being able to control her eyes could’ve gone on for so much longer. And Alison. Was she just so powerful she could rumour ppl without saying anything now? And when her eyes went yellow, that was a completely new power, right? And did Viktor’s powers seem different to you guys or is it bc he absorbed Harlan’s powers last season. Me personally, I think they’re should’ve gone down the Tinkerbell: The Pirate Fairy route and swapped the sibling powers with each other or completely different ones

It would’ve been such a good plot twist if after learning that the Cleanse restored them to the one true timeline, they all think it’s their original lives as a misdirect and they the horror sets in as you realise that they’re actually part of an ultimate timeline. They just could’ve done so much more than that. I know with limited episodes they had to wrap things up quickly so after they learned they had to be erased they just kinda had to accept it but I would’ve loved an entire episode of them grappling with the fact and saying goodbye and reminiscing about their past and maybe even being in denial and self sabotaging or whatever (kind of in the style of that ep in s2 when they have an hour to meet up

Why was Jennifer in a squid??? Why? did she get all the durango? Why weren’t there 42 other kids who got ur? That could’ve been such a cool parallel like cmonnn

I always suspected Ben’s death to be connected to Reg in some way so I loved the reveal… but I hated Jennifer’s involvement. Like it just felt tooo convenient. And I understand why they did it from a writers/ directors perspective that they wanted to wrap everything up but I just felt it could’ve been done much smarter. ALSO I just realised that Klaus doesn’t know how Ben died. Diabolical. I will not stand for it

Reginald didn’t recognise his own wife??? Like when Fake Gene called him “love” and Reggie didn’t clock it???

Speaking of Reggie ARE WE EVER GOING TO DISCUSS THAT HE’S AN ALIEN ROBOT BITCH???

Soooo Luther never once asked Reggie about Sloane???

Ray. Where’s Ray? Maybe the actor was working on something else and they had to get rid of his character

WE NEVER EVEN HEAD ALISON SAY “I HEARD A RUMOUR” NOT EVEN ONCE like I get she’s powerful enough to the point she doesn’t have to say it anymore but that line eats down every. Single. TIME!

Lastly and most importantly… the soundtrack. The songs didn’t slap. Simple as.

Final Statement

I think I covered all my points. I doubt I’ll make a part 2 bc honestly, the show isn’t worth my time and energy anymore. I just needed to rant bc I don’t know any ppl who watch this who have any lick of media literacy.

The finale was painfully underwhelming. It didn’t feel like the same TUA I’ve grown to love over the past few years. I can accept the ending but the journey to how we got there was one massive slap in the face. I’m going to ignore this ending ever happened thank you <3

#the umbrella academy #tua #tua season 4 #tua spoilers #the umbrella academy finale

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pillarsalt · 3 months ago

Note

Anon worried about her trans-identified friend again, I wish I had the words to express how much I appreciate your kind words!!! (Maybe admitting it made me tear up would help? haha) Your response was just as thoughtful and considerate as I thought it would be, but I never expected you'd write so much for a stranger talking about another stranger, let alone throw compliments my way. You're a truly special person and everyone on here, including me, is so lucky we get to hear what you have to say and chat with you :) (And see your wonderful art to boot!! Finding another bug-lover is such a lovely surprise!)

I'll keep your kind thoughts in mind whenever the rare friction comes up again between my friend and me. It was such a quick process for me to desist and become gender critical that I think it's easy for me to forget how much harder it is for people to change their minds on the trans topic when they're so much more invested in it than I was. (Feel the same way about religion too, even as a little kid I was asking questions about why certain things bothered me in the Bible and getting frustrated when I got shame instead of answers. Maybe being annoying and asking too many questions is just in my DNA haha. But all the more reason why it's important to help those who aren't naturally critical: they're the ones falling for unreality the hardest because of that fact.)

Ultimately I will keep being me and see what happens, like I've done before. If nothing comes of it, then there was nothing else I could've done differently anyway. I've asked her if she'd like to do gift exchange for the holidays. We're planning on getting each other a few embarrassingly nerdy collectibles we've been eyeing for a while :)

Thank you again for your help, I'll cherish your words always!!! Hope you have a blast on your trip and get to see all the little guys you could dream of!!!

I'm very glad to hear from you, anon! :) and thank you so much for the kind words! it makes me very happy to be able to help in any way. ❤️

It's funny that you mention questioning the bible as a kid. I went to catholic school and I remember being taught in first grade that we were supposed to love god more than anything. More than we loved our parents or even our dogs, and I just couldn't get past the notion that I had to somehow love the kinda mean, angry, invisible flying grandpa*, who never says a damn thing when I pray, over the actual people who had raised me. I stayed in catholic school until graduation despite opposing catholicism, argued a LOT. I think my point is that I've also kind of been primed for voicing unpopular opinions, so I'm biased when it comes to people who are more hesitant to take any position on the matters at hand.

*sidenote, around this time I obsessively read My Book of Bible Stories (1978) which was given to me by JW doorknockers. This is a bit uncanny, I haven't seen this since I was about 8. It was a treasured book to me, it's full of old testament stories and pretty brutal:

To demonstrate how young I was while reading this: the book refers to god as Jehovah, but I was still learning to read and thought he was called Joseph. So all the adults I told all these Joseph stories to were confused as to why I thought Jesus's stepdad was so OP. Anyway yes, Joseph was a scary guy in my mind, I mean look what he made abraham do before he said sike:

which really didn't give me much faith in him. Kind of a questionable thing to do to a guy tbh. Finally here's the illustration that basically inspired my URL:

Sorry to hijack your ask anon, for some reason your message sent me down memory lane. Finding that pdf was crazy.

ANYWAY: you made my night with yoir nice message, so thanks for that, hope you stay well. I'm happy that it's chill for the time being, and the gift exchange sounds like fun. Come around to chat anytime.✌️

#ask

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banjjakz · 11 months ago

Text

bleed for me; hananene 5+1 oneshot

He’s amassed whole lifetimes of bad habits, and never has one felt more grievous than the way his lifeless body threatens to rise again after Yashiro launches herself off of him in mortified realization of their compromising position. A bad habit, thinks Hanako, watching his roommate flee away as he barely resists the urge to give chase. Predator and prey. A body drained dry. I’d take good care of you.

(Or: Five times Hanako is painfully, embarrassingly obvious about being a vampire -- and the one time he doesn't even need to be.)

wc: ~6.7k

warnings: vampire!au; horror elements; disturbing themes; graphic descriptions of blood & ensuing oral consumption; etc, etc

🖤 read on ao3 🖤

1. Garlic Bread

“I’m home!”

From his lax recline on the bed, Hanako calls out a lazy welcome back. He doesn’t get up because he’s far too comfortable watching old primetime reruns of ridiculous game shows, and also -- well.

He’s a little unhappy.

Ah, maybe not unhappy. That’s a rather strong word -- sensation? Feeling? For someone who’s felt a lot of them for a very long time, Hanako isn’t the most adept at categorizing his own emotions. Let alone experiencing them. It’s much more convenient to acknowledge that something probably important is sounding off in his chest, and then leave it alone to run its course. Hands-off is always the way to go. Less messy that way.

But then, he’s forced to deal with complex situations such as these:

The lovely, strange, absolutely enrapturing human being whose life he feels lucky enough to occupy even just a small, miniscule part of -- flouncing into his bedroom, all bright eyes and wide-lipped smiles and rosy cheeks and limbs jittering in excitement at seeing him after a mere handful of hours spent apart--

And Hanako, whose cold, dead heart threatens to jolt back to life at the mere sight of her.

How odd. He wonders what it means, and then immediately stops doing that. Hands-off. Mess free.

“Hanako-kun!” Greets Yashiro, rushing to stand at his side, her stockinged feet thump-thump-thumping at the hardwood in a rapid, red-blooded pulse. Her hair flows freely today, which is unusual. Normally, she has it pulled back and away from her face, in one neat platinum sphere at the base of her neck. There’s a decorative clip or three in there, somewhere, too.

Where are those tonight? What happened to the disturbingly skull-shaped barrette? He likes that one. “Hanako-kun, look! For you!”

Oh, she’s holding something. He hadn’t even noticed. Upon closer inspection, it seems to be…

“A greasy paper bag,” Hanako deadpans. “How kind of you, Yashiro.”

She rolls her eyes, and stomps her foot. He can see the vibrant red of her painted toenails even through those dark tights she insists on wearing out everyday. These are one of her nicer pairs, though. No rips or runs in sight. Not even when Hanako scans her legs up and down and up again, just to check. Just to make sure.

Yashiro’s irate scoff sends his eyes scrambling very rapidly back to meet her own. “You’re impossible. You gotta guess what’s in- side the bag, dummy.”

“Radishes. No, wait, we already have plenty of those on hand.”

“Oh my God, I am literally going to kill you. Do you wanna die?” Hanako almost laughs. “Last chance before I change my mind and don’t let you have any!”

“Ohhh. Something I can have?”

Yashiro nods. Hanako tracks the movement of her jaw like a vulture circling a corpse, freshly splayed open and vulnerable and tantalizing with how red the blood, how plump the flesh, how easy it would be to sink his talons in and bare his teeth and--

“I have no idea,” he muses, “what that would be, then.”

“You’re so weird sometimes, Hanako-kun. Anyways, remember how I went over to Kou-kun’s tonight? Because he needed a taste-tester for his school assignments? Remember?”

Ah, and here he returns to the root issue of tonight’s predicament. Hanako is swiftly delivered back into the strange sensation of discontent that plagued him mere moments prior to Yashiro’s arrival. She’d distracted him -- as she is so often does -- from his brooding.

Hanako remembers that he’s supposed to be brooding.

Hanako begins to brood.

It’s a pitiful attempt, really, because Yashiro is hellbent on injecting the evening with her unique brand of excitable fanfare, and Hanako has never been able to put up much of a fight against her. He’s weak to the sun and all it’s gifts of brightness, after all.

In a last-ditch effort to save face, he manages to pout. Yes, this will show her. This will express to her his deep-seated dissatisfaction!

“Hmph. I guess,” sighs Hanako, batting his lashes for good measure.

“Oh quit it. Don’t look like such a jealous puppy--”

“-- Excuse me--”

“--Especially ‘cause I brought you such a good gift! Look!”

And then Yashiro reaches into the bag and pulls out a slice of greasy, buttery, deliciously succulent garlic bread.

Hanako doesn’t even have the time to process her accusation of jealousy (which, hello? A little absurd if you ask him.) as he’s preoccupied with scrambling backwards to the opposite side of the bed, as fast as what will hopefully appear to be humanly possible.

“Kou-kun’s in the middle of his global unit in school, and he chose to make some Italian dishes, so I thought I’d bring home-- hey!! Where are you going!” Yashiro, clearly perplexed, pauses in her bubbly explanation. “Don’t be like that! I know you don’t like Kou-kun for whatever stupid reason, but really? He made it just for you!”

Of course he did, thinks Hanako, scathingly. He will deal with that overgrown menace of a mutt later, when his physical body is not in imminent danger and Yashiro is not growing steadily closer, brandishing the bread as though it were a sword, or rapier.

Oh, if only she knew.

Normally, Hanako would be elated -- ecstatic, even -- to see Yashiro crawling across his mattress, chasing him with a dark intensity in her eyes and a palm outstretched. But the issue here is that her palm, as sweet-smelling and milky soft as it looks and probably feels (Hanako wouldn’t know), is currently wielding a weapon of mass destruction.

He tries to placate her, or at least slow her steady advance, but it’s all for naught. “H-Hey now, Yashiro--”

He should throw her off. She shouldn’t even be in his home in the first place, let alone in his bed, but somewhere along the way Hanako had started making inappropriate, foolish, misguided allowances for this strange woman, and then he… never stopped.

Honestly? For a mistake as silly as entertaining a human of all things, he supposes he should go out in an equally as embarrassing fashion: death by sliced bread.

Yashiro is on top of him now, her thick calves bracketing the bony jut of his hips as she sits on his chest and leans over him, her cheeks incensed a bright and healthy rouge -- a mere few shades darker than those glittering fuschia eyes. Hanako can’t help but wonder just how red she can get; how much red she has to spare. How much red would be enough to burst her open and leak along the sides of her pristinely pale canvas like spilled acrylic in one big, gory, spattering mess.

For two (definitely, totally, absolutely) mutually exclusive reasons, Hanako feels his stomach contract.

“You’re being ridiculous,” announces Yashiro from her perch atop his body, blissfully unaware of the fact that Hanako could very easily toss her clean across the city if he so chose.

(Or maybe, it’s the fact that might know, and is unafraid of the prospect. As though she believes he won’t. Humans are such an arrogant, fickle species. He can’t say that he particularly misses being amongst their ranks.)

“It’s bread. Would it kill you to be agreeable for once and just take a freaking bite?”

Her heartbeat. He can hear it loud and clear even as he lays underneath the vice grip of her sturdy legs. Does she even know how fast her pulse rams itself against her veins? Like it’s begging to be rescued from the confines of that pretty, porcelain cage?

Fuck. Fuck.

Hands-off.

Mess free.

“I’m allergic,” says Hanako, slowly, face blank and clean as a slate as he stares unblinkingly back up at his captor. “To garlic.”

There’s a curtain of shimmering white that cascades around the two of them, shifting to block out any and all extraneous stimuli. He should remind her to pick up some more bleach the next time she takes a trip to Daiso. It’s time to touch-up her roots again.

“Allergic,” she parrots.

The way her lips shape around the word, tasting it and rolling it around in suspicion, is captivating. In all his years of dealings on this earth never has Hanako followed a journey so gripping, so intense, as the way that Yashiro Nene’s mouth moves across a sentence. “Allergic,” she says again, flat and faint.

He’s just barely able to nod. “Deathly.”

“You’re deathly allergic to garlic.”

Time grinds to a painful, halting stop. The gradual slowing of the outside world is so acute that Hanako can track with his eyes the moment that Yashiro’s gaze flickers down to his cracked lips and the steady in-and-out of her breath is all but frozen in place. It’s excruciating, the level of detail he’s been subjected to bear witness to as a creature borne of blood and misery. He hates that he can hear her lungs rattle in suspense. He hates that he can name each muscle that goes still and locks solidly into place, anchoring around him in a rigid, tense embrace. He hates that he can smell her fear.

“Precisely. And you are straddling me. Are we done stating facts or would you like to continue on, Yashiro?”

It’s a bad habit he has, relying on humorous deflection. He’s amassed whole lifetimes of bad habits, and never has one felt more grievous than the way his lifeless body threatens to rise again after Yashiro launches herself off of him in mortified realization of their compromising position. A bad habit, thinks Hanako, watching his roommate flee away as he barely resists the urge to give chase. Predator and prey. A body drained dry. I’d take good care of you.

The crumbs in his bed dig into his skin and burn there, serving as a very stark, very physical reminder of his worst habit.

He’s already served his penance. Is currently serving it. Is slated to serve it for the rest of whatever conceivable eternity awaits him.

So why, then, does his chest twist and ache with an ardor he thought had died with him, all that time ago?

2. Reflection

The only reason he’d agreed to tag along was because Yashiro promised him that he didn’t have to speak if he didn’t want to. He isn’t much inclined to converse with random humans -- especially not over cheap, young wine.

But this is, of course, exactly what he finds himself doing on a Thursday evening he would otherwise spend alone, holed up in his room, with his blackout curtains drawn to the side to bask in the glow of the full moon. Longingly, Hanako glances out of the large window he’d surreptitiously made a home next to immediately upon their arrival. Ah, well. Next month.

A round of boisterous laughter startles him out of his reverie. He chances a glance back to the sectional sofa in front of him and is greeted by the sight of Yashiro nearly doubled over in apparent amusement, wine glass tipping dangerously to the wayside. Her cheeks are speckled with the beginnings of a youthful pink. Unshed tears cling to her thin eyelashes. When she straightens up to catch her breath, she meets his gaze and allows her grin to melt into something soft and warm and entirely unsuited for the terrible, awful things that run through Hanako’s mind faster than the speed of light.

Having fun? She mouths discreetly, bringing the glass up to take another sip.

He nods, draining the red in his own grasp long and slow. It tastes like ash on his tongue.

One of the other humans speaks, then. It isn’t the orange haired fellow who’d immediately struck Hanako as a sniveling, blindsided, spineless fool of a man -- no, it’s his wife, who’s entirely too preoccupied with asking questions about Hanako’s personal life for his comfort.

“Hanako-san,” she begins pleasantly, gripping the wine bottle by the neck as she tops off his glass. Unprompted. “I’ve been wondering about something! Nene-chan is an Insta-freak, you know, right?” A what? “But you’re never on her page,” she continues with a pout, “And you aren’t tagged in any photos. Are you shy? That’s adorable!”

How can a woman speak so politely with eyes as cold as hers? They glitter at him underneath the fluorescent lighting of the living area, small and hard and blindingly bright, a twin set of enchantingly haunted jewels. Delicately, she tastes at the rim of her glass, and says nothing else.

Before he can conjure up a response that isn’t mood-killing and really little more than a thinly veiled threat, Yashiro pipes up. “Hanako-kun’s super off-grid!” She stresses, eyes wide, words comically over exaggerated as though she is delivering information of the utmost importance. “He has a very troubled childhood! He doesn’t like talking about it! So that’s why!”

“A troubled childhood,” muses the purple haired menace.

Yashiro nods solemnly, gulping another hit of her dry white. “Yeah! He’s got a bunch of weird allergies, too. Did you know that he can’t eat garlic? Not even garlic bread? Isn’t that so sad!”

“...Indeed it is. My condolences, Hanako-san.”

Right.

The evening doesn’t really improve from there, apart from Yashiro falling into his side after she gets a bit too wine drunk. Hanako can smell more than just the saccharine perfume she slathers on all the time; no, from this close, Hanako inhales and internalizes the scent of a robust, earthy musk, far richer than anything spritzed or patted superficially into the skin. Hanako can smell underneath her skin. Hell, Hanako can practically see -- can practically taste the delicacies hidden there, with how firmly she leans onto him. Would she still feel comfortable holding clutching onto his arm, if she knew the kinds of things he thinks about her? About doing to her?

They say good night to the amethyst wench and her sad excuse of a clueless human husband not long after that. The apartment isn’t far away and it’s too late to stumble into the car of a subway, so the pair of them trek home on foot.

A quiet night. The moon is as full as she is healing, and Hanako returns to himself a little bit more underneath her watchful, healing gaze.

“Now that I think about it… we really don’t have any pictures together.”

Although Yashiro has sobered up enough to stand straight, she still maintains a loose grasp on his arm. Her fingernails curl into the sleeve of his button down, a splash of bright, vivid red disappearing in the deep dark of a moonless night. Swallowed right up without a second thought. “Is it… is it because you’re embarrassed, Hanako-kun? Of, um… well. Do you not want to be seen with me? I’m sorry…”

He could break his own neck. He should. He would, if she asked him to.

“You own a Polaroid camera, yes?”

“Ah! You mean my Hello Kitty one? Uh-huh! Why?”

“When we return home,” Hanako says, like a fool, “We can take a picture.”

If he were a defendable creature, he’d point to Yashiro’s sudden and swift ascent into excitement as the justification for the latest manifestation of his long, long list of bad habits. Her strong ankles defy gravity and carry her as she floats on air, giggling as she skips the whole way home. Even as they make their way through the front door. Even as she must root around in her cluttered bedroom (that Hanako cannot follow her into, for obvious reasons). Even as she struggles to remember how to change the film, and inputs a decorative mascot-inspired roll, nicking more than a few of her pale, slender fingers in the process.

Even as she wades through darkness, Yashiro is so bright.

The actual photo itself requires some set-up which eventually results in Hanako reversing the contraption unto them and pressing down on what he’s only halfway sure is the capture button. He assumes that he’s done well when a thin strip of glossy paper leaks out from the bottom and Yashiro swipes at it in a giddy stupor, remnants of the Riesling from earlier that evening rendering her sloppy and uncoordinated.

“‘Kay, it’s gotta develop now… should only be a few more seconds! Will you keep it safe tonight? ‘M sooooo tired, and I really gotta shower before I pass out…”

Yashiro is already stumbling away, back towards her bedroom. She slips the rapidly lightening square in his palm as she slips back, lingering for one moment too long against the doorframe.

“Thanks, Hanako-kun. G’night.”

And then she is gone.

Which is probably for the best. The film has finally pulled itself from the murky depths of ambiguity. Hanako looks down at the picture in his palm and Yashiro stares back at him: her bold, red lips and silver-spun hair are two twin beacons of color, misplaced and incongruent within the impenetrable sea of blackness surrounding her.

Where Hanako should have been instead lies a lapse in composition. The photograph is blank and undeveloped around his general silhouette. But that is not the strangest thing about the photograph.

The strangest thing is howYashiro leans into the darkness, unafraid of the way it spindles into her own boisterous portrait and slowly eats at the brightly hued pigments of her warm flesh, her pretty, frilly dress, her smile. That unerringly loud, human smile.

How long will it take, he wonders, before the shot is entirely eclipsed by that cold, dead void.

3. Sunlight

It’s a bad day before he even opens his eyes.

As a creature of indeterminate longevity and supernatural capabilities, sleep is not the necessity it once was for him. But he indulges, from time to time, when there’s little to do during the daylight hours. After all, he’s confined to his bedroom from sunrise until sunset. Pacing the perimeter of a lion’s cage grows tiresome, even to eternally patient apex predators such as himself. Much easier to force his body to shut down and pass the time for him, as his consciousness wanders aimlessly through the realm of a deep, dreamless slumber.

This day is not one of those days. This day is the peak of Summer’s cruel, tyrannical reign. This day is suffocating. This day is warm. This day is bright.

This day maneuvers above and below and all around the blackout curtains that are always painstakingly drawn over his windows. This day leaks into his bedroom and weasels its way into his sheets, underneath his skin, scorching him from the inside out with such a ferocity that it renders him immobile. Every fiber of his being threatens to splice into terrifying, meaningless oblivion.

When Yashiro first asked, Hanako told her it was migraines.

It was a vague excuse that pinpointed some rare, untreatable immune-disease that left him inexplicably weak to sunlight. Yashiro really should have been more persistent in hunting down the real truth -- the actual truth -- especially considering her occupation as an urgent clinic nurse. He considers the idea that it’s an answer she doesn’t care enough to unearth. He mulls over the alternative, which is that she is too frightened by whatever she may find to go searching for it in the first place. He then decides he’s done thinking about her. Today is torture enough.

A gentle knock at his door renders all of his efforts fruitless, however. “Hanako-kun?” Her voice filters easily through the heavy fog clouding his awareness, like a blade through slackened flesh. “You okay?”

She’s still standing hesitantly in his doorway, as though waiting for permission to enter. He’d laugh if it didn’t hurt so badly to do anything other than lay still and flat as a corpse.

He can’t afford to expend any unnecessary effort lest he wear himself out completely, so he goes for the most direct course of action:

Snakes his arm out of the big, black ball of sheets and comforter in which he’s coffined himself inside. Holds back a curse as he’s made aware of just how weak he’s become. Struggles not to drop his cellular phone when he finally manages to blindly locate it. Unplugs the device single handedly with tremorous fingers. Holds it out to the open air.

“Take this,” says Hanako, voice dim and tepid. “Dial the contact ‘Tsukasa.’ Give him this address.”

Not for the first time, Hanako realizes that he should be grateful for this human’s absence of curiosity. He has amassed plenty of bad habits in the past, all of them metastasizing entirely too close for comfort until he’d been forced to handle them in a way that had been entirely hands-on and the very opposite of mess-free. For Yashiro to wordlessly collect the cellular phone from his trembling grasp and do as she’s told is what he’d call a blessing, if he still believed in feats as fickle as faith.

She is confused as she makes the phonecall. Hanako can hear the shift of her hair sliding past one shoulder as she tilts her head. He can feel the way her chest flutters in a muted gasp of surprise when the line connects after the first ring. She can’t be more than three or four feet away. Close enough for him to reach out and brush, with the pitifully pale pads of his fingertips. What a sight that would paint, muses Hanako, deliriously. Icarus and his glittering, lethal lover.

Time ebbs and flows and bends and breaks after that. He’s distantly aware that he drops in and out of consciousness. The hot wax slathering each of his limbs is an imagined thing, he’s sure, as is the sensation of free-falling to an anticipated, blunt death. These sensations are from the dreamscape that pulls him beneath its suffocating depths only to release him at the last second, in a cruel imitation of the sea and all her unfathomable terror.

(He has not dreamt in so very, very long. It’s a bad habit.)

The final time he breaks the surface, he surges up against something -- cold. The kind of cold that forces his own to bow its head. The kind of cold that relieves him of his fever, and sends a violent chill through his body, all at once. The kind of cold one should only absorb in small doses, with limited contact. A once-in-every-three-decades kind of cold. That kind of cold.

“Hi, Amane! You look terrible!”

Tsukasa’s hand on his forehead is frigid enough that it loops back into the realm of burning. Hanako must gently bat it away and blink blearily up at the sight of his twin brother, just as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as he always was. Always is.

“Hi, Tsu.”

“Hold still, ‘kay? I brought the bendy straws you like. All you gotta do is sip. Open wide!”

Obediently, Hanako parts his lips and accepts the flimsy piece of plastic.

He tries not to think about what, exactly, it is that he’s doing. If he closes his eyes and holds his breath, Hanako can almost pretend that he’s being fed by different hands, in a different world, as a different person.

“Hey, Amane?”

Gulp, shudder. Resist the instinctive gag that claws its way up his throat like a beast bending the bars of its cage. “Yeah, Tsu?”

“Why are you starving yourself?”

Eyes closed. Mouth shut. Another swallow. Hands-off. Mess free.

“You have food right there,” Tsukasa whispers. “Is there something wrong with her? Is she sick? Y’know, I’m not picky. If you don’t want her, I can--”

Hanako, with newfound strength, launches upright into a sitting position. What wonders a couple of mouthfuls can do.

Oh, how to explain this. Oh, how to navigate his way through an intersection of muddled implications and unspoken subtleties, all of which will go right over Tsukasa’s head. How can Hanako pretend to be a creature of innuendo and self-control, when his biggest, most glaring lapse in judgement sits across from him in the damned den of his own design?

He struggles for a moment, running a tired hand down his face. “Yashiro is a -- friend.”

“A friend?”

“Yes,” confirms Hanako, desperately avoiding Tsukasa’s curious gaze. “And friends don’t eat friends.”

The words are slimy and leave a bad taste in his mouth. Well. Maybe the words themselves aren’t what lingers at the back of his tongue and stains his teeth. But they are odious, nonetheless, and hang in the air like empty nooses dripping down from a gallows.

“Friends don’t let friends starve,” is Tsukasa’s counterpoint. “If it were me, Amane, I’d let you. Even though you already did, I’d let you do it again. I’d always let you.”

Hanako has never understood why Tsukasa refuses to cover up the twin bite marks that marr his jugular. Is it to punish him? Is it not punishment enough, that Hanako has to see his face at all?

When his brother grins at him, it cuts like a knife. Hanako remembers a time where those cheeks stretched wider, when those eyes glistened with something other than black ice. Tsukasa plucks the bendy straw out of the cup and drinks straight from the rim, tossing his head back to give Hanako full view of the way his throat opens and closes around the infernal contents.

He can’t stop staring at the scars: two lone stars fixed in an empty, pallid, apocalyptic sky.

The younger boy is sated only when the cup has been drained dry -- and even then, he pants, exhilarated, pupils blown large and dangerously obsidian as they flitter back and forth as though in search of more, more, more.

Why are you starving yourself?

He’d always been a messy eater. His baby brother, Tsukasa. Tsukasa who loved Katanuki. Tsukasa who loved to paint. Tsukasa who still loves to paint, but now works solely in abstract monochrome. Tsukasa, who paints himself over and over and over again until he’s dripping, covered head-to-toe in a masterpiece of his own design. Tsukasa, who licks his canvas clean at the end of each night only to start anew in tomorrow’s dangerous twilight dusk. Tsukasa, who collects victims like portraits.

Tsukasa, who had once been a portrait himself. Hanako, who held the brush in his hands and created something freakishly beautiful that wretched, awful night.

Why are you starving yourself?

He feels full enough, watching Tsukasa pass his tongue over his chops. He feels like he’ll never need to eat again.

By the time his brother makes his departure, the sun has long since sunk beneath the horizon. Hanako’s room is once again as it should be: a thick, inky fog of opaque black. It’s so dark, in fact, that had he not been what he is, he would never have spotted the slight gap between his door and its frame, where a slender figure lingers in apprehensive wait.

Yashiro is checking on him, he realizes belatedly.

Why are you starving yourself?

“Good night,” She calls, softly. “I’m about to head out for a double.”

“Be safe.”

“‘Course! I always am… I hope you feel better soon, Hanako-kun.”

He couldn’t have this if he ate like an animal. He couldn’t have Yashiro -- sweet, gentle, lovely Yashiro -- living alongside him as he devoured bodies made in her image. Already, Hanako struggles with what his baser instincts urge him towards… to give into those temptations would be putting her in danger.

His door clicks quietly shut. His room is bathed in the cover of night once more.

Left alone to his own devices, the beat begins to roam its cage. A growl sounds, low and deep and mortally wounded. Not from his throat -- but from the very pit of his stomach.

Resistance is one thing, but ignorance, however feigned, is quickly ruled out of the realm of his personal possibility. There is no disregarding the sensations that fester inside of him. There is no course for his desires to run. There is only the ugly, maddening truth:

Hanako is hungry.

Hanako needs to put his hands on something.

Hanako needs to make a mess.

4. Silver

“Promise rings!”

“... Excuse me?”

“N-Not in a weird way, or anything like that!” Stutters Yashiro, fumbling with the miniature wooden box in her shaking, manicured grasp. “They’re just little cheap ones. I saw them on display at the mall, and I couldn’t just not… plus, do you even know what day it is?”

Hanako raises a brow. “Enlighten me.”

“It’s our six-months-as-roommates-a-versary!”

“Wow.”

“I’m really happy you recognize the importance here, Hanako-kun. Now stick out your hand so I can put yours on! And then you do me!”

If he didn’t know any better, Hanako would wonder how Yashiro gets anything done with those delicate fingers of hers. They’re as soft-looking and malleable and enticingly peachy as the rest of her, topped off at their gracefully tapered ends with a neat coat of ruby red. They dance along everything they touch, nimble little ballerinas hopping from pose to pose, commanding rapt attention wherever they leap.

As his own hand raises to meet hers, he must fight the urge to clench into an ugly, defensive fist.

The first touch sends something like electricity ricocheting down his spine like lightning through a weather vane. She is so gentle. How can she be so gentle? How can she be so round-edged and rosy-cheeked and expect him to just stand here, wordlessly, with nothing to do or say about it? How can she live in his house for six months and celebrate, rather than mourn? How can she look at him, a creature innate to unsightly presence and habit, and say to herself: this is something worthy of care.

The second touch is just as unnerving, but for all the wrong reasons.

“I thought you said this was cheap,” grits Hanako, exhaling sharply through his nose as the silver ring slides slow and meticulously down the length of his finger.

Yashiro pauses, eyes narrowed. “Is it not? How can you even tell?”

“A-allergic… !”

To her credit, she’s properly mortified. Yashiro almost falls all over herself to wrench the offending piece of jewelry off and away, apologizing profusely as she studies the burn wound on his middle finger. Her mouth twists into a tense little knot. Hanako wants to smooth it out.

Instead, he follows her obediently into her bathroom after she tells him to come inside and sit his ass down on the toilet -- which he does, sheepishly.

“I can’t believe -- oh, God, I’m so sorry, Hanako-kun… Just, hold still okay? It’s only gonna hurt a little, I promise.”

It’s an injury that would’ve long since healed itself by now, if he were in any other state than the one he currently occupies; which is to say that he’s rather unhealthy. Which is to say that the rats and possums and other small rodents he guiltily entraps in the alley behind the house do nothing besides sate a momentary desire. Which is to say that it is impossibly difficult to keep himself aware and conscious and disciplined enough not to careen head-first into Yashiro’s exposed clavicle and unhinge his jaw and feel his skull shift to accommodate the extra layer of fangs and sink his claws into her perfect, supple hips and feel her go paralyzed with terror as he--

“Okay! All done. Do you feel better now?”

“Yes.” It’s a pretty bandage. Pink and bright with tiny dancing radishes along the perimeter.

“I really am sorry,” mumbles Yashiro, encasing his frigid hands with her own, squeezing and rubbing with her soft thumbs. “I don’t ever want to hurt you. You’ve always -- you’re always so kind to me, all the time, and it just seems like… well, I don’t know. Lately I feel like I just never know how to help you, Hanako-kun. I feel like I just make things… worse. So can you promise me something?”

“Anything,” says Hanako, unblinkingly, because blinking is a sign of dishonesty.

“You have to tell me when you need something. Or when you don’t need something. Or when you -- uh, well, I really want you to be honest with me. Okay? Can you promise me that? Because it makes me really sad that you struggle with… a lot, and there’s not so much I know about how to help. So, please? Do you promise? To be honest?”

“I promise,” says Hanako, unblinkingly, because blinking is a sign of dishonestly and also because he can’t close his eyes without seeing her body splayed out in the bathtub behind her, limbs limp and gore overflowing past the rim and into his eagerly awaiting mouth. In this fantasy, he uses his tongue to follow the carmine droplets bulleting down the porcelain edge, licking and slurping until he reaches the source of the mess, the heart of the storm, the original inspiration to all his reverence. He would take his time.

(Or would he lose himself? Would it be hands-on? Would it be messy?)

“Thank you for trusting me. I trust you… with my life, you know. Maybe it’s naive, but I hope one day you could do the same.”

He can’t touch her, not right now, even though she looks like she’s about to shake apart at the seams. All Hanako can do is watch from a safe distance, and wonder. And want. And ache.

As always.

5. Blood

She comes home early.

Hanako has only just padded his way into the kitchen when he hears the front door unlock. Is it that time, already? No, it can’t be. Yashiro usually arrives when he is just settling in to go back to sleep. She brings with her the pale light of a budding dawn, and although Hanako regrets their sparse interactions and conflicting schedules, he’d rather not disintegrate into a pile of ashes atop the living room couch just because he felt like saying welcome home, honey.

Tonight is different, apparently. A cursory glance thrown over to the microwave clock reveals that it’s only a few minutes past the witching hour. And despite there being a total absence of sunlight when Yashiro opens the door, Hanako still falls to his knees in a sudden onslaught of unadulterated agony.

His vision turns spotty, only worsening as Yashiro rushes inside and screams at the sight of his crumpled body. “Hanako-kun? Oh my God! Oh my God, can you hear me?”

Barely, is what he wants to say, but can’t. His throat is too tight, too dry. His mouth begins to salivate at an alarmingly disgusting rate.

That smell.

Pathetically, he crawls over to her on his hands and knees, body running on autopilot as it drives him towards the source. Hanako can feel his body shift and transform with the pavlovian response he’s developed over the decades -- an instinct borne out of the memory of a chase, of a hunt,of warm flesh twisting and stretching and tearing underneath his capable grasp, of muffled screams and kicking legs and the eventual, gradual descent into permanent stillness, of hands scrabbling desperately into dirt, into pavement, into carpet, as they scream his name and beg him -- no -- no, stop -- what are you -- Hanako-san--!

Blood. But, not just any kind of blood.

Fresh, human blood.

Six months is a very, very long time to go without food.

The scent wafts from the messenger bag thrown haphazardly over Yashiro’s shoulder. Hanako claws weakly at it, burying his nose into the worn fabric and moaning in relief at the contact.

“Fuck,” he sighs, breathy. The debauched soundtrack of his own muffled desperation would embarrass him, probably, if he were cognizant of anything other than the metallic tang filling his nostrils.

The last thing he remembers is Yashiro running her fingers through his hair, shushing him quietly.

And then it all fades to black.

“Oh, Good. You’re awake!”

Hanako gets about halfway through a sarcastic reply before something is shoved past his lips. Something… familiar. Something -- bendy?

“Drink up,” huffs Yashiro, pushing the straw more firmly into his mouth. “You’re lucky we had a contaminated batch of bags today. I-it’s still safe to drink, though! Or at least… I hope… tell me if it tastes funny, okay? Jeez, Hanako-kun… I didn’t know you were so hungry! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?

His lack of a response only propels her onward.

“Well… I know you don’t like to talk about it… I’m sorry if this is making you uncomfortable, but I couldn’t just sit and watch you waste away--”

“You knew?”

“... Um. Was I not supposed to know?”

“You knew,” Hanako repeats numbly around the plastic in his mouth, dumbfounded. “This whole time, you knew.”

Unimpressed, Yashiro raises an eyebrow. “That you’re a vampire? Duh. Allergic to garlic? And silver? And sunlight? I’m not stupid, and you aren’t nearly as slick as you think you are, mister.”

The chuckle she gives after this quickly peters off into something more melancholy, a little bit darker in origin. From where she’s perched on the couch, leaning above him to adjust the straw’s positioning into the medical packet on his chest, Hanako can see the sorrow, there, in her big, doe-like eyes.

“You never brought it up… and I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries! I’ve never, erm, done ‘this’ before… if you couldn’t already tell. But since you never said anything… I just thought that, I don’t know? Maybe my blood wasn’t good enough to drink, or something like tha--”

“That is absolutely not the case.”

He’s quick to cut her off. Too quick. “Far from it, really,” he attempts to joke in an effort to lessen the intensity of the blow, but the damage has already been done. Yashiro’s hand freezes around the blood bag, her eyes flitting up to lock onto his own.

It’s unfairly attractive, the way her blush blossoms across her face. Hanako takes a long drag from the straw and swallows, never breaking his stare.

“I would… definitely be okay. More than okay. With doing -- ahem. That.”

“Drinking,” supplies Nene, so quietly that Hanako reads her lips more than he hears the charged word spill from her pink, glistening tongue. “You’d drink from me?”

What a question. Oh, if only she knew.

“Sure,” he hums, easily, “as long as you promise not to bring home anymore garlic bread. Especially not from that mangy mutt.”

“Hey, that isn’t very nice! Kou-kun isn’t… wait. You’re… you don’t mean…?”

“Yep.”

“Oh my god. That’s why you don’t like him!”

“His pack leader really, really hates me. Heh.”

“You know, you probably shouldn’t look so pleased about that.” She says, with a fond smile. Hanako wants to taste it.

On his next sip, he’s met with an ugly slurping sound. Normally, the fact that he’d sucked down a pint of blood in less than five minutes would be cause for concern. But his circumstances are not normal. His circumstances haven’t been normal for quite a good while, really, and Hanako can’t bring himself to think about it too hard. Not when his worst bad habit is within arms’ reach; not when she’s digging into her bag and procuring another packet of blood for him to puncture with the blunt end of his straw.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, awestruck.

“And I’ve got seven more where that came from! So just take your time, okay? No rush. I’ll stay here and make sure you get your fill… I promise.”

Hanako thinks he will hold her to that.

+1: Feeding

This is nothing like the first time, which is what he’d originally been terrified of. This is nothing like the second, or third, or fourth or fiftieth or hundredth time.

(How could it be? How could having her pliant and wanton underneath his capable grasp be anything other than pure ecstasy?)

Before he takes the plunge, he -- has to warn her. Again. Just in case she’s changed her mind. “Last chance,” Hanako breathes into the fleshy meat of her, the aroma of pumping blood doing unspeakable things to his mind. “This is your last chance to back out, Yashiro.”

She’s pretty as a portrait, the way she shifts and wriggles underneath his body reminiscent of the melding of a varied color palette coming together in one grand, epic composition.

But he’s about to stain her in monochrome.

“Don’t be gentle,” Yashiro gasps, dragging his hands to hold her down. “I’m not afraid o-of a little mess.”

You should have been, thinks Hanako, mournfully, as he paints his first stroke of bright, brilliant red.

#hananene fic #hananene ao3 #tbhk fic #jshk fic #hanako x yashiro #hanako x nene #amane yugi x yashiro #amane yugi x nene #toilet bound hanako kun fic #jibaku shounen hanako kun fic #my writing

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total-killer-brainrot · 1 year ago

Text

Two's a Party, Three's a Crowd

You would never typically consider yourself ‘easy’. But here you were, face down ass up on Stu fucking Macher’s bed. He hadn’t even taken you on a proper date. Only feeling you up briefly in the theatre before convincing you to ditch the movie and go home with him. You hadn’t meant to let it get this far, but god. He was just so hot. And when he kissed you as you stumbled through his front door you caved immediately.

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A quick hookup with Stu Macher turns into much more than you bargained for when his partner in crime shows up.

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All my fics are also on AO3

Not Beta Read. Rating: Explicit. Length: 1,459. Ship: Stu Macher x Billy Loomis x You. Fem!Reader. Tags: Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Sex, Spanking, Degradation Kink, Begging, Verbal Humiliation, Hair-pulling, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Choking, Creampie, Biting, Hand Jobs, Come Eating, Cunnilingus

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A long groan left your lips as his cock dragged wonderfully against that perfect spot inside you. Behind you he let out a soft huff. Probably a barely contained laugh at how needy you were acting. Rolling your hips back against him like you just couldn’t get enough of the taller man's dick. He knew exactly what he was doing to you and he was revelling in it. Like this guy needed the ego boost.

You felt his hand slide down the small of your back to grope at your ass. Giving it a light slap just to watch the plump flesh jiggle.

“You know… I never thought you’d be such a whore. You always seem so uptight…” You could hear the smug grin in his voice. And you were actually grateful that he had you face down so that he couldn’t see how your face turned red.

Just as you were about to respond, something snarky and clever of course, he gave a particularly hard thrust that sent any bickering thoughts flying out of your mind. Any retorts died on your tongue with an embarrassingly loud groan.

Stu paused as he was deep inside you, just grinding his cock into you in such a way that you were sure he would drive you mad. Your breaths came out in stuttered gasps as you gripped his sheets until your knuckles turned white.

“Please..” You stammered weakly. Voice muffled. He heard you, but of course he pretended he didn’t.

“Hm? What was that, babe?” One firm thrust sent you reeling once again. Your thighs quivered, struggling to hold you up. But his large hand on your hip made sure you’d never slip away from him. “Speak up.”

Every time you tried to collect your thoughts he’d slam into you, or flick your clit, or pull your hair. It was maddening. You could barely pull your broken mind together to respond to him. Which only amused him. He knew how difficult he was making it, and he was determined to make it harder.

“Fuck… Please! Go faster Stu…”

He laughed. The fucker actually laughed at you. That loud, obnoxious laugh that made you swoon but also grind your teeth. It sent another spark of humiliated pleasure down your spine and you clenched around him as he finally sped up again. Your moans reached a new pitch.

So loud that you didn’t hear the window open. You didn’t even realise there was a third person in the room until a hand gripped your hair and pulled you up so you were eye level with another perfect cock.

“Seems like you two are having fun without me…”

A particularly hard thrust sent you forward, Billy fucking Loomis’s dick poking your cheek. Of course you couldn’t have one without the other. The two were glued at the hip.

It didn’t take much coaxing for you to welcome Billy’s cock into your mouth. And he took full advantage of that, thrusting deep until you gagged and tried to pull away. He was much stronger than you thought as he easily kept you in place with just one hand gripping your hair. Watching you with an eerie kind of silence and you choked on his dick.

“Sorry man..” Stu’s voice sounded strained now. Holding himself back as he slowed down again. “She jumped me… couldn’t possibly keep a slut this desperate waiting…”

Billy let you get some leeway so you could breathe. Watching your cheeks turn redder, both from the lack of oxygen and from Stu’s vulgar words. As humiliating as it was, you loved it when they talked about you like you weren’t right there. You met his eyes from your position between them, curling your tongue against the veins on the underside of his cock. Relishing in the way his lips parted and his breathing lowered. A soft chuckle escaped him.

“‘Desperate slut’ might be a bit of an understatement… you should see her fucking face, Stu.”

Another groan sounded behind you and your eyes rolled back as you felt Stu’s long fingers press against your clit. Both boys' movements faltered as you simultaneously clenched and gagged at the barrage of sensations. Feeling lightheaded with your nose pressed against Billy’s groin. They seemed to forget about you for a moment. Both focused on their own pleasure. You could do nothing but take it. Shaking and moaning around Billy’s cock as Stu’s grip on your hips tightened.

It took a moment but you managed to open your eyes again. You wanted to see Billy’s face when he came. You were surprised to see Billy and Stu lost in their own makeout session. Billy’s free hand gripping Stu’s hair much like he was doing to you. Stu leaning down slightly to reach the shorter man. The image was burned into your brain as quite possibly the hottest thing you had ever seen. And one final thrust sent you spinning over the edge into your orgasm.

If the two of them hadn’t been holding you up, you would have collapsed long ago. You felt Stu’s hips stutter and pause as your walls clenched around him. Surprising him as his own finish hit him hard. Moaning into Billy’s mouth as he stilled deep inside you. His cum oozing out around his cock and dripping down your thighs. Too lost in pleasure to care. You’d worry about the implications of that later.

Above you Stu whined, a high noise that surprised you. You were able to glance up once again to see Billy tugging the taller man’s bottom lip between his teeth. These two would be the death of you. You hollowed your cheeks just to see Billy’s reaction. He cursed as his head dropped back. It felt great to be able to make him good like that. But any sort of power was quickly taken from you when Stu pulled out. Feeling the last of his cum follow made you whimper. And that drew breathy laughs from both of them.

You felt Stu move off the bed behind you, but you weren’t sure where he was going until you saw him appear behind Billy’s shoulder. One hand dragging up his stomach to his chest while the other gripped at the base of his cock, what little that wasn’t deep down your throat. Billy left your mouth and you sucked in your first proper breath in who knows how long. Billy allowed himself to be a little loud as Stu’s hand slowly gripped up his length. His chin resting against Billy’s shoulder, watching you with that wonderful smug grin that drew you to him in the first place.

Billy slowly started rolling his hips into Stu’s fist, then faster as he chased his orgasm. Still gripping your hair tight to keep you in place. And once again finding Stu’s hair with the other. Keeping you both exactly where he wanted it as he reached his peak with a strained curse. You were far too enraptured by the scene above you to pull away as he finished on your face. Not that you would have wanted to. Opening your mouth and letting your tongue hang to catch any cum. Both of them loved that. Stu biting his lip hard while Billy’s breath hitched mid moan.

“She’s perfect, man…” Stu mumbled, lips pressing against Billy’s neck. The shorter man could only nod in agreement as he caught his breath. Leaning back against Stu for support. When he finally released your hair you were able to sit up. Knees aching from being in the same position for so long. The rapidly cooling cum on your face and cunt making you cringe. You laid back against the pillows with a long sigh.

“That was fucking incredible…”

You bounced as Stu flopped down next to you, laughing when his tongue dragged up your cheek, collecting as much of Billy’s cum as he could. You snorted, pushing his face away.

“Gross dude!” You cried, wriggling away from him. He gripped your hips and pulled you closer. Trying to get his tongue back on your face. Basically wrestling you into a position that you couldn’t escape from.

“Hey… why let it go to waste right?” At that Billy also broke out into laughter. Helping Stu pin you down by gripping your thighs. Your struggles quickly faltered when Billy’s own tongue prodded your entrance then curled inside you. Eating Stu’s cum out of you. With a needy whine you said,

“You’re both disgusting…”

#Scream #billy loomis #stu macher #stu macher x reader #stu macher x you #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x you #stu macher x billy loomis #stu macher x billy loomis x reader #stu macher x billy loomis x you #billy loomis x stu macher x reader #TKB Fics

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