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papaya-twinks · 4 months ago

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ok so what abt a lando one where there’s an age gap and he’s always been obsessed with her and like stalkers her, does research on the guys she brings home and goes out with basically totally dark stalker vibes. But the thing is she knows she has a stalker but no idea who it is bc whenever he confronts her he is wearing his racing helmet, and they always do even more each time they meet, liek first time they met he just caressed her but then like the 3rd time fingers her and 4th fucks her. THEN SOMEWEAR IN IT PLSSS. Lando has a sex tape of them and jerks off to it and thinks ‘fuck I can’t do this anymore’ kidnaps her and now she’s kinda like his toy but sugar daddy vibes bc he treats her well. And this is all consensual bc the reader wants an adventure as her ex bf was so vanilla ( which lando knows allll abt and explains in detail to her what she used to do with him) THATS ALOT IM SRRY U DONT HAVE TO DO IT

Warnings: Five year age gap (sorry, large age gaps make me squeamish), stalker, dark fic, 18+ kidnapping, sex, smut, 18+, consensual, sex tape, fingering, abusive partner (not Lando), sugar daddy, swearing

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - I’m adding some biker!lando into this coz his F1 helmet is just cutsies but a black biker one? dark dark shit right there.

Lando had met you at an F1 race, where you’d been in the garage. Something about how darn innocent you looked with your pretty little dress, all young and…wow. And with the help of Oscar (who simply thought his teammate just had an interest in some girl), he found out about you.

Y/N Y/L/N. You were 19 years old, your favourite colour was pink, you were cute and innocent and sweet, and you loved bows and ribbons. How adorable. And so it began, Lando followed you on a burner account, and watched all your stories, pinpointing your exact location to be in Monaco.

Oh how perfect, you were in the same country as him and, conveniently, he had the whole summer break to play around with the information.

y/n

caption: spending this day alone but with a great cafe to make up for it :)

friend3: oooo, have fun 💗💗💗

-> y/n: will do, thank you x

friend2: looking chic, y/n!

friend1: enjoy yourself and try the chocolate cake 👀

user1: café can’t be as gorgeous as you are 😉

-> y/n: oh, thank you?

You had just brushed off whoever ‘user1’ was, not really paying much mind to unusual flirty message, and continued with your day at the cafe. However, you couldn’t shake the slightly unsettling feeling that you were being watched.

You’d seen this happen in movies, and you couldn’t deny that the slight tingle of adrenaline coursing through your body wasn’t enjoyable. And so you looked behind you, from your cake and your phone, your eyes locking with someone else’s.

Well, more you found yourself staring back at a helmet. A plain, slick black helmet, the person wearing it adorned in a leather black jacket and light blue jeans. You couldn’t see any features to help show you who it was, but it was kind of…interesting.

Did you confront the person? No, you’d seem desperate or stupid. So you went back to your food, and never once did it cross your mind that perhaps, user1 was your stalker. But you didn’t see the stalker anymore. And you were a little disappointed they’d moved on so quickly, but you too moved on, going on your dates, looking for love, as girls your age did.

“Jason? What the fuck?” Lando said, eyeing the new name at the bottom of your followers. He’d skimmed through them, making a note of each and every person on your Instagram list, but seeing a guy? He couldn’t deny the feeling of annoyance in his stomach.

And thankfully, he’d made note of the guy’s instagram enough to see where the date would take place. Foolish, foolish move. And once again, you were sitting at a chair opposite this man, Jason, when your eyes fell on the same, sleek black helmet once more. Holy shit. And quicker than it had come, it was gone. For fucks’ sake.

*1 month later*

You and Jason were dating now, and to say he was toxic was an understatement. “Jason, I’m just gonna go out with my friends,” you said, picking up your purse as he scowled from the sofa, still in his sleeping clothes. “Why? So you can see some guy under the guise of friends? Likely,” Jason scoffed.

He was frustrating. “I’m not seeing another guy, I’m going with my friends,” you said, repeating your words as he groaned. “For fucks’ sake, Y/N, no means no!” he yelled, his words making you flinch as you sighed and dropped your purse back down.

“Fine, if you’re gonna be a brat, fucking go!” Jason seethed, pushing you to the door. Well, at least you’d get to go. The meet up with your friends ended a few minutes later, and just as you were leaving..,the helmet. This time, you would confront him. Or her.

“Uh, hi,” you said, walking slowly towards the helmet-man. He was definitely muscular. You were standing in the middle of an alleyway, the darkness flooding round you as the helmet stared down at you from his spot. “Uh, I’m Y/N,” you said, holding your hand out for him to shake.

He didn’t shake it.

You watched as he placed a hand in your shoulder, still not having said anything, and interlocked your other hand in his. He pushed a bit of paper into your hand, your eyes on the words. A phone number. Interesting. As soon as you looked back up, he was gone.

unknown user

y/n: hello

user: Hello.

y/n: who is this?

user: you don’t need to know.

user: come to the boulevard tomorrow at 9pm. leave jason behind. tell him your seeing a friend.

Holy shit x2. The air of mystique around whoever this was…was somewhat unsettling but at the same time, it was kinda a turn on. And wait, how did he know who Jason was? Oh, he’d done his research. Nice one.

And so you did what he said, managing to wriggle out of Jason’s possessive gaze, and you found yourself, waiting where this stalker had said. And there he was, in the same jacket and the same helmet, looking back at you. And perfectly on time, as well. Either he was desperate or…well, you didn’t know.

It was dark all round you, no one around and the streets unlit in this area. You watched as he reached out a gloved hand, taking your hand in his and pulling you between the trees, the mask of the night shielding you. He had strong hands.

You didn’t truly care what he’d do next, as he sat you down, the dry earth coating the back of your dress as he pushed it up, your thighs visibly shaking. A soft gasp left your lips as he trailed his hand over your core. You hadn’t worn panties. Good.

It was almost like he was complimenting you as he gave you a small smack on your thigh, before he removed his glove, dipping his finger between your folds as you moaned, eyes wide. “Shit…” you trailed off, your eyes wide as he added another, your knot building up. Fucking weeks of faked orgasms, and this one felt real.

He didn’t say anything, simply moving his hand faster, the tan skin of his fingers curling as he rubbed at your clit with his thumb. Who was this fucking angel? A loud moan left your lips as your orgasm flooded over you, his hand moving from between your legs, the remnants of your pleasure on his hand as he wiped it down his jacket, watching you for a second, before he left.

Part 1 of his plan: complete.

And the next day, you received yet another message from the same user, your eyes lighting up. It was an address.

user: [address], 10pm. no panties either.

And you arrived at the surprisingly grand hotel, showing the receptionist the room number and she gestured the way. You paused outside the door, thoughts of everything flashing through your head. Who was this man? Was he safe? Was he dangerous? Fuck it, you just needed another orgasm.

As you walked in, you failed to notice the little camera set up on the desk behind a bottle of lotion, your eyes on the man standing in the doorway of the en-suite bathroom. You didn’t say anything, neither did he, as he walked to you, lifting your dress once more and laying you down on the bed.

With one hand, he dipped his fingers into your core, the other hand undoing his belt as he dropped his trousers, taking your hand and wrapping it round the base of his (surprisingly large) cock. You heard the small sound of a groan, not enough to identify who it was, but you pumped his slowly, his own hand toying with your core.

Still, he’d didn’t remove his helmet. You gasped as he pressed his cock against you, one hand pressing down on your throat gently, the restriction of your airways adding to the pleasure, as his other hand pressed your stomach down to stop you from arching. You whined as he tugged your jaw forwards, forcing you to look at the small bump in your stomach.

Holy shit x3.

You gasped as he started moved, your lips parting as he moved his head down, lifting the visor and pressing immediately to your neck, so you couldn’t see anything but his lips as he licked at the supple, sweet skin of your collarbone. His hips picked up pace as you moaned, his fangs nipping at your skin as he peppered kisses to your neck.

You could feel the pleasure build up in both of you as he held you down, his hand moving from your neck to massage you clit in soft, slow circles, his other hand kneading the skin of your breasts. “Shit,” you muttered as he sped up, the knot in your stomach building faster and faster as you suppressed your moans, your eyes rolling.

He pulled out before he came, spilling the liquid onto your thighs as he bit down once onto your neck, sucking the hickey under your coat and out of sight, before fixing you up. And then he pushed you out the room. Oh god.

“What the fuck?!” Jason snapped, stepping into the shower with you. “Where did you get a hickey from?” he asked, your eyes wide. You’d totally forgotten about it. “You gave it to me last time we fucked,” you said coolly, trying to play it off. “Oh…right,” Jason muttered. Wow, he was stupid.

“Fuck,” Lando gasped, his eyes rolling as he tried to keep his attention on the video of the night before, his hand desperately trying to recreate the sensation of your tight cunt, how good it had felt having your warmth clenching round him. “For fucks’ sake,” Lando muttered staring down at the menial drops of cum coating his hand.

And there was only one way he could have you all of himself. Kidnapping. But, how? You were walking down the boulevard once more, trying not to stare at the spot where you’d been fingered by the mystery man, clutching your bag as you walked down to a bakery, where you wanted to pick up your cakes.

And then, a hand on your mouth, followed by a cloth, and out you went.

……….…………………………

Your lashes fluttered open as a piercing yellow light hung over you, your eyes returning to usual as you looked round the room. You had an itch under your nose, and you reached your hand up, only to find your wrists tied together and to a radiator. What the fuck?!

And then you saw it, the pieces falling into place. A laptop placed perfectly so you could see it, with the video of the mystery man fucking you playing on. The helmet placed onto the side cabinet. A phone with ‘user1’ and the list of all your images he’d saved. What was this?

“Hello sweetheart,” a voice said, the second word dripping with almost condescending sarcasm as you looked up, your eyes locking on a pair of greenish-blue ones. He was the stalker? He was hot, though. “What are you doing, who are you?” you writhed against the ties as he scoffed.

“Fight all you want, then,” he shrugged, “I know you want this,”. You shook your head at his words, making him roll his eyes, before he bent down, untying the tie on your wrists and kneeling to your height. “Don’t wanna be here, is that what you want me to believe?” he smirked. “Then go on,” he gestured to the bedroom door.

“Run, then,”.

But you didn’t. You didn’t run. Though you knew you should, that this wasn’t right, but you didn’t move. “Exactly,” he leaned down to whisper into your ear, running his tongue over the mark he’d left, a shiver rushing up your spine. “Get on the bed, then,” he said with a little sinister smile, but you obeyed.

“On your back, lift your dress,” the man said, directing you with a firm voice as you did what he said, your back against the mattress, your hands tugging the material of your dress upwards. “Good,” he eyed your body, “think a little introduction is in need,”.

“I’m Lando,” he said, his lips brushing your ear as he removed his jeans, “you’re Y/N. I know that,” he said, pumping himself a few times before aligning with your entrance as you gasped. “I know how Jason was a dick,” he continued, “I watched you fake those orgasms,” Lando mused, “and how that cunt of a ‘boyfriend’ never once gifted his perfect little girl anything,”.

You whimpered as he took your chin in his fingers, pressing his lips to your jaw, before sliding into you, his other hand taking a little box from behind you, sliding the ring onto your index finger as he rocked his hips. “Oh, god,” you gasped as he sped up, your hands digging into his shoulders.

“I watched how that cunt couldn’t even make you cum, Y/N,” Lando smirked, “such a pretty girl and he couldn’t even make you cum,”. You whined at his words, your body bouncing a little as the lewd sounds of your skin hitting his as he slammed into you, your eyes rolling in pleasure.

“Cum for me,” he said, his teeth bared against your neck as you gasped, your whimpers filling his ears as he carried on. Oh what he fun he’d have with you.

A/N - I love this.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #f1 #lando norris smut

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thegnomelord · 7 months ago

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Okay fuck after reading @killerkillerkillher 's fic with demon Soap and Price, and angel Ghost and Gaz, it got my own brain worms multiplying (as if I don't have enough going on lol) so here's the au draft that's been rotting for a while lol.

So here's an idea for an au:

Reader is part of a small group of friends that are Ghost hunters/DIY exorcists (read: They're all drop out college students and the ghost hunting youtube channel's putting food on the table). Reader doesn't believe in the supernatural but the friends keep reader around because you're the group's 'ghost deterrent' because spirits GTFO when reader's near and reader thinks the friends are just bullshitting you.

Anyway the group are moving to a bumfuck town in the middle of nowhere where an old haunted house the reader's grandmother left is. Then their pos car breaks down an hour away from town. 'Luckily' the town's mechanic, Johnny, was just driving by and helps you lot out. And ain't he a handsome devil (emphasis on devil) thinking he can con a couple of young and dumb humans out of their souls. Soap's all hooded eyes and husky voice as he lures you away like a lamb to a supply closet, oil darkened hands sliding under your shirt and lips sucking dark hickeys into your throat.

He pulls away when you tug on his mohawk, raising his head until his lips are just inches from your own and you don't even notice him mutter a verbal contract, nor do you understand you've agreed to one when his lips crash on yours like he's drowning.

And Johnny's grinning into the kiss like a loon as he tries to take the soul of the stupid but hot mortal he's just met only to find out he... he can't. No matter how consuming his kisses are or how aroused both of you get your soul sits stubbornly in your chest and doesn't even budge.

When your friend bangs on the door and yells for you to "stop shagging every guy you meet!" you're forced to give an awkward goodbye and scurry away. And Soap's left completely bewildered and confused as fuck wondering what just happened and thinks he needs to tell Price.

Meanwhile, while your car's being fixed up, your friends drag you to the town's only pub that's run by a Simon Riley. He's an intimidating man without trying to be, but he doesn't immediately chase you out like some bar owners. He's quiet, listening to your friends chatter while cleaning a glass rough scarred hands, but the way he looks at you is... odd. Like you're an interesting bauble he's found on his gran's shelf.

He's there to catch you when you trip on a raised floorboard you swear wasn't there before. "Thanks, I owe you one." You say with a small awkward laugh, though for some reason it feels like him catching you had been an excuse to touch you.

"That so?" His thumb traces the dark hickeys across your throat, surprisingly soft, and you can feel your cheeks getting hot. "You let Johnny have fun with you?" His chuckle is rich like aged wine, fingers gently pressing down on a hickey; it feels possessive. "You'd let any old thing like me take from you, yeah?" There's something in his words that has a shiver running down your spine, though from apprehension or arousal you're not sure.

"Ye- eh, yeah." You don't know which question you're agreeing with, and you understand the weight of your words, quickly walking away from him before your friends can embarrass you by wolf whistling at you and him. And you completely forget to ask on how he knows it was the mechanic who gave you the hickeys.

With still some time to burn before sun sets you decide to visit the radio station in town, mainly because your friend swears on his life that those are always haunted or have some decrepit old host that knows all the gossip in town. And when you meet the man you had heard softly yet confidently talking on the radio? He's handsome, pretty brown eyes as enticing as his voice, and you're starting to sense a theme with you meeting all these very nice looking men.

But Kyle, or Gaz as he asks you to call him, is a wealth of knowledge to the point you're not sure where the gossip stops and some crumb of truth begins. He talks all the way into the night with you and your gang of amateur ghost hunters, and you see why he is the radio host because his voice is like the song of angels, silk soft on your ears and you feel like you could fall into the best sleep of your life from listening to him.

And all he wants from you in return for his knowledge? "Nothing much mate, just a small favor, I'm sure you'll manage." Kyle leans in and pecks your lips like he's sealing a promise, or a bargain, but that's just you being stupid after getting kissed by the second hot guy today, surely. Gaz already knows he can't just nab your soul, he has ears in every wall in this town, but at least he can put his own claim on you.

Day, for the most part, well spent you and your friends go to the house for a good night's rest. It isn't any good as you're woken up numerous times and by morning you have several broken vases and an exploded lightbulb — everything you explain away as the house being old as fuck, but your friends claim it to be the work of spirits — your friends drag you to the church on the hill at the asscrack of dawn.

And that's how you meet Father Johnathan Price. (Insert devil in church joke here)

He listens to your friends explain the situation, calm and collected, but you swear his eyes stay on you the entire time. "That's quite a predicament." Price hums, offering to bless you and your friends in hopes of protecting you from evil spirits.

You're the last to go, nearly jumping out of your skin when he grips your chin. "Relax my boy." Those words frazzle your brain enough for him to easily pull on your jaw until your mouth opens, his thumb almost playing with your bottom lip. The look in his eyes is dark, the air between you far heavier than it should be between you and a bloody priest. But Price doesn't see anything wrong with this, pressing a thumb down on your tongue and then putting a wafer on your tongue. "There you go, you are now blessed in the name of a lord. Now consume it, my boy."

You obey automatically. You're not quite sure if a communion wafer is supposed to taste so... weird, it has a coppery and peppery taste to it. Almost like spicy blood or something but that's just you being stupid again, especially as you can feel heat burning between your legs.

Sufficiently embarrassed about getting hard at a priest you give an awkward goodbye and leave, trying to fix your pants before your friends see your... problem.

Johnny appears by Price's side in a small flicker of flames and brimstone when you leave, confident smirk on his face. "Ooh, couldn't resist claiming a piece of him fer yourself?" He smirks, nudging Price on his side.

"I suppose he is more interesting than the usual rabble." Price hums, already imagining of how handsome you'd look laying naked on the altar, and how to get you to that point.

Congrats! Now you've got 4 hot dudes trying to take your soul :D

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theautisticwriter · 9 months ago

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Love Letters: Yandere! Helluva Boss characters X G/N Reader

Characters- Blitzø, Moxxie, Millie, Loona, Stolas, Asmodeus, Fizzarolli

Show- Helluva Boss

Genre- romantic, yandere

Summary- Mini love letters from your not so secret stalkers admirers!

Warnings- swearing, pet names, yandere themes, mentions of planned kidnapping, stalking, delusional characters, unwanted attention

Word count- 1.5K

Extra notes- I have a Hazbin Hotel version of this uploaded as well!

key: f/l = first letter of your name, y/n = your name, n/n = your nickname

———————————————————

By this point you know who it is y/n, I’m the only person COOL enough to send u romantic as fuck letters like the old people do

Sorry for eating the food u made last night, when i was raiding ur fridge it looked so fucking good (and it was, who knew u could cook :P). i left u a pony as a replacement, u can’t eat it but it’ll make u think of me ;) and that pony cost me a FUCK ton of money, collectors addition and shit. i know, bad fucking ass right??

the stupid shitty loud alarm u installed didn’t work when i came in, ud be much safer with me and loony. that’s the plan anyways babe, u have NO idea the fucking creeps that live down here, they’re all fucking animals and ur…not, a fucking asshole i guess.

i drew you smth (it’s the thing stuck on the back of the envelope with the glitter glu)

^glue

it’s me and u holding hands, like other couples do. we’re better than those corny fuckers tho, hence the crowns on our heads.

ignoring my texts, BLOCKING ME (still upset about this BY THE WAY) and then ignoring my very nice letters is kinda a dick move f/l, but it’s whatevs. everything is almost ready for ur move in. i cleaned up n everything :D

from the only bitch worth ur time,

blitzø

<3 (ignore that, moxxie threw a gun at me and my hand slipped, might fire him)

———————————————————

Hiya sweet cheeks!!!

It’s Mills here, just checking in! Via letter! Ain’t that just the fanciest little thing? Mox said it’s the best way to show thought and care to someone, so here’s all my thoughts and care, just for you!

How’ve you been? Good I hope, I’ve been just peachy thanks for asking! My Ma and Pa are super excited to meet ya one day, they’ve even started planning the wedding! Now I told them to slow their horses down, and not the overwhelm ya, we’ll get to that don’t you worry darlin.

Im just so excited to write this letter for you! Ain’t it so romantic?? I’m practically squealing in delight at the thought of you opening this and swoonin’, that’s what you’re doing, right?

Now i’m writing this on my break, and my boss really needs me back in the game! I got employ of the month! Most amount of kills, with the best and bloodiest results baby!

Until next time sweetheart,

Your Mills! ♡

———————————————————

Hi y/n,

It’s Moxxie here, I was a little nervous to send this letter to you, but I always try to follow my heart, and my heart was telling me to communicate with you in the most romantic way I know how due to our current circumstances of being so far away. It’s hard, for the both of us i’m sure, but we’ll be okay y/n.

As much as I don’t get along with my father, he has been helpful with my preparations for your arrival. It’s a big deal, moving in together. I’m sure your anxious, I am too, but in the best way possible. Love is pure, and can make somebody feel whole, it’s a wonderful feeling. I never want that to be taken away from me, and you are the source of all my love. That’s why we need to be together, being only half a demon isn’t good for the soul.

We can do lots of fun things together as well, like go to the opera, or to musicals, or I can show you my shooting skills. My boss says that I have a pretty good shot, which is the biggest compliment he’s ever given me. And we can do things you like too, marriage is equal of course. Obviously, this will all happen later done the line, you’ll need time to adjust, and I understand that. I understand you.

I’m running out of room on my page, but I will write to you again tomorrow. Please respond? Just once, y/n? It’d be nice, to hold something from you since I can’t hold you yet.

All my love,

Your Moxxie <3

———————————————————

Uh, hi?

Wait, you don’t put ‘uh’ in letters do you? Or put wait whilst you think, fuck shit fuck

Sorry, I’m new to this. Normally I just send a text to people but, your phone is off at the moment I think? Or you lost it? Or you blocked me?

Either way, I’ll send you these stupid letter things until it’s back on. So, uh, what are you up to? Blitz has been up my ass about meeting you, heads up, when I come get you and bring you to our room he’s gonna go all psycho dad mode and integrate you, but he’ll back off after a while. He’s a dick sure, but he does want me to be happy. And your, likeable or whatever, so i’m sure you’ll get along.

Once you get comfortable at home with me, Blitz said you could work with me at I.M.P. You’ll be like the co-secretary or something. You won’t be put in danger, I won’t let that happen, you’ll just get to sit with me. We can watch things together, if you wanted.

I guess i’ll see you soon, how do you end these?

See you,

Love from,

Regards?

Bye y/n,

Loona.

———————————————————

My dearest y/n,

I hope this letter finds you well. I yearn for your presence here, besides me. It’s quite lonely without you, I will admit my dear. It would be oh so wonderful if you could write back. I understand you may be preoccupied with your current activities, but I can’t help myself from desiring a response. I know, it’s selfish of me to expect you to reply to my letters when you’ll be here with me shortly, but I can’t keep my thoughts at bay at the moment.

Your face is a constant in my mind, night and day, asleep and awake, your voice in my mind calms me when I need it most, your smile brightens the bleariest of moments and so on. You can imagine the difficulties I’m facing with no response from you, but that’s alright. If you can’t write back to me dear, I won’t pressure you. Your time is precious, and we will have all the time in hell quite soon. Isn’t that exciting?

I can give you the life you deserve n/n, any luxuries or mundanities you wish for will be handed to you on a silver platter. Or a golden one, if that’s more to your liking? We can properly discuss the specifics once we are together. How thrilling, the though of you and I together at last.

We truly are written in the stars!

Yours until the end of the sky and then some,

Stolas.

———————————————————

Hey there baby,

It’s been a while, huh? I’m sorry if you feel neglected babe, it’s so hard keeping in contact with you when you’re so far away hun. Wouldn’t it be so much better if you were here with me? Sure I’ve got a lot of meetings, being a sin and all, but I’d be at your beck and call n/n, you could even be my new excuse to leave those awful “business” discussions. They barely talk business with me, it’s just complete bullshit babe.

I know the lust ring can be intimidating, we have quite the reputation, but I assure you, love is not a foreign concept to me. Romance is one of my most favourite things! Though that’s a secret, let’s keep that between us, yeah? That side of me is reserved for you n/n.

It’s so boring over here without you, I feel like i’m just lounging around and last time I checked, I was the lust sin, not the sloth sin. We’d have so much fun together babe! Can’t you picture it? Even if you can’t yet, I can wait. Having you near me will be enough, you are enough just as you are.

Sincerely yours,

Asmodeus (Ozzie) xoxo

———————————————————

Heya cutie!

Letters are a lot harder to write than I thought they’d be y’know? I’ve rewritten this like 16 times already, sheesh. It just feels so awkward, I can’t see your reaction to my words which means I can’t fix any mistakes I’ve made :(. I’m sure I haven’t made any though! Right? This letters going really well so far and is definitely wooing you, right, y/n?

Hah, I’m asking questions as if you can reply right away. Silly old me, I don’t know what i’m worrying about! We’re meant to be together. I know it’s super sappy, but we’re like soulmates. Soulmates are bound to be together! That’s why I’m bringing you home soon, I can’t wait! I’ve got sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo many awesome tricks to show you!

And, the best news, I quit my job!! ༘⋆-ˋˏ ༘⋆-ˋˏ This means, we will have a LOT more time with each other, and you don’t have to worry about Mammon being possessive over me, because fuck him! I’m my own clown! Or, well, your clown.

I can’t wait to see you! This is going to be great for us, I pinky promise :P

Love from,

Fizzarolli !!!! ༘⋆!!,-!ˋˏ!!!

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imagopirateversion · 7 months ago

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Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales; Why It Shouldn’t Exist

Or how I invested time and energy into an analysis of a relatively dead franchise instead of doing it for my actual media analysis university course.

An essay by: a bitter and obsessed PotC fan since they were 7, with a lot of free time.

Lads, this is going to be long. You have been warned.

The Beginning

At the very beginning of the movie, we see a young Henry Turner looking for his dad.

Now, we're not talking about characterization problems or how likely it is that a ten-year-old child would risk his life to look for a man he technically only saw once; we're talking about plot problems, actual logical fallacies. My questions are:

How? The Flying Dutchman is a legendary ship, impossible to be found unless She wants to be found. The only reason we see Her in Dead Man's Chest is because Davy Jones himself is looking for Jack to collect his debt, and in that occasion the Dutchman's captain wasn't even doing what he was supposed to do, so he was most definitely in the living world. Will otherwise, he's doing the job Calypso gave him, so he's constantly in between. Is the movie trying to convince me that a kid was able to do something no one in the history of piracy was ever able to do? And even if he did, why hasn't anyone explained me how? He simply looks at a map and throws himself on the bottom of the ocean. How did he know The Dutchman was there? How did he know it would've come to surface?

Where is his mom? We got to know Elizabeth in the first three movies; we know she's a smart woman and we can assume she's an attentive mother. She didn't notice her son preparing himself for a trip in the middle of the ocean to go look for his dad? Was she distracted? Was she outsmarted by a 10ish-year-old? Or is she just not contemplated in this scenario?

Why does Will look like that? Will is doing his job, so... why does he look like he's slowly corrupting? That kind of corruption is the punishment Calypso reserves to The Dutchman's crew when the captain fails her, which isn't the case. Did they forget about it? Was the idea of putting algae on Orlando Bloom's face just impossible to resist to?

Alright, this isn't actually from this movie but it's bothering me, so I have to write it; also, it would make this whole movie unnecessary, so it's somehow related to it. Why (and I can't stress this enough) can't Elizabeth be on the Dutchman? Why can't they do the job together? Is it because she's not a pirate? I'm pretty sure se actually is. Is it because she's a woman? Last time I checked she was the KING. She wants to stay with Will forever, Will wants to stay with her forever, they can literally live forever on the same ship. Why aren't they?

Whatever the Hell Happened to Jack Sparrow

Imagine creating a character that is so iconic whenever you ask a person who was a kid in the early 2000 to imagine a pirate, they imagine said character.

Now imagine fourteen years pass and you decide to ruin that character by making him the most hideous, annoying, idiotic person in the whole saga, and we're talking about a saga that has Philip the Missionary in it. Why? Jack Sparrow is THE anti-hero. Never on the right side, but never on the wrong one. You can tell he's doing something morally questionable, but you still find yourself rooting for him. He's stupid enough to make you laugh, but he's secretly clever enough to always get away with it. Now he's just... drunk. And that's not even an excuse for this horrendous new characterization, because he was always drunk. The guy FORGOT HE WAS ROBBING A BANK, the same guy just one movie earlier was able to escape from the King of England's palace and steal a lady's earring (by pretending to be a literal slut) in the process. He just switched from the iconic drunk bi bestie everyone loves to my cringe uncle that drinks too much at Christmas parties and makes everyone uncomfortable. Please, if the risk is ruining an entire generation's beloved character, either don't make the movie or find a better explanation than "Bad luck dogs you day and night".

The Pearl in The Bottle

So... what you're telling me is that Jack Sparrow, the guy who was able to defeat Hector Barbossa, Davy Jones and Blackbeard thanks to his slyness, and who loves his Black Pearl more than anything else in the world, had said ship in a bottle in his pockets for FIVE YEARS... and he never thought about breaking the bottle to free Her. That's what you're telling me. This is the pivotal point upon which the entire Jack's plot hinges. I... I don't even know what to say. Was this supposed to be funny?

What an Incredibly Lucky Coincidence

A guy needs a treasure to save his father. To find it, he needs the help of a notorious and legendary pirate. He looks for him everywhere, sailing on dozens of ships just so he has the remote chance to stumble across the pirate. The last ship he's been on has sinked, he's the only survivor. He's been found in the middle of the ocean and someone brought him to the nearest city. Which city? I mean, the one that has both the pirate he was looking for and a lady who's the only person in the whole planet who's able to find the treasure he was looking for! And, oh my... he finds the both of them! In that same city! Without even LOOKING FOR THEM! A hell of a coincidence, if you ask me. Also known as lazy writing.

What's Wrong With the Guards?

Now, I know Pirates of the Caribbean isn't exactly known for its accurate historical reconstructions, but why are the guards in this movie acting like they're some sort of hellhounds ready to kill anyone in sight? Even pirates and traitors as Jack and Henry were supposed to stand trial before being sentenced to death. It would've probably been an unjust and barbaric trial, but there should've been one. We literally saw it, in the previous movie. Why's Jack been sentenced to death for simply existing here? He gave pirate vibes and they decided that was enough?

Paul McCartney

This is not an actual point of the analysis, I just wanted to remind people that Paul McCartney is in this movie and that's the only valid reason to watch it.

Salazar

I am confused. Once again, I have questions.

El Matador Del Mar was so good at his job he had almost defeated piracy. "The last ones joined together to try and defeat me". The last what? Pirates? There were no pirates left? This happened when Jack was young, so a lot of time before the first movie, right? Where were, I don't know... Blackbeard? Davy Jones? Barbossa? All the other Pirate Lords? I might be wrong, but I guess Salazar didn't kill them, did he? Why weren't they there during that "last battle" in which "the last ones joined together"?

The Devil's Triangle. I just don't understand what's the logic behind it. So, this is a cursed place. Whoever enters there, can't get out. One would think it means that if you get there, you die; and Salazar does die, but he somehow also becomes a ghost whose only purpose is to find Jack Sparrow and have his revenge. So, do people become ghosts when they get in The Devil's Triangle? We have to assume people have gotten stuck in there before; otherwise, there wouldn't be legends around the place. So why isn't it like full of spirits ready to haunt people? Why are Salazar and his crew the only ones?

Poseidon or Calypso?

What's the Trident of Poseidon? Does Poseidon exist? Isn't Calypso the Goddess of the sea? Breaking the Trident, you break all the curses of the sea, so the Trident must be more powerful than Calypso, which leads to a question. Where is she? She IS the sea, right? So she must have known someone was about to find the Trident and brake all curses, including her one. She just decided it was okay? It really feels like someone decided to suddenly change the world's mythology without giving explanations.

The Compass

This is possibly the most blatant plot hole in the whole saga. Probably the most blatant plot hole I've ever witnessed, and man, I watched all the Harry Potter movies. In Dead Man's Chest, Jack meets Tia Dalma in her "shop" and he tells her he's looking for the Davy Jones' key. She asks him "The compass you bartered from me, it cannot lead you to this?", making another pivotal point of Dead Men Tell No Tales factually senseless.

That man couldn't have given his compass to Jack, because that wasn't his compass.

So either Salazar is lying while telling his tale or they forgot about that line in the second movie. Anyway, let's pretend that line doesn't exist; even if that captain gave Jack his compass in that exact moment, why would it be the key to free Salazar, exactly? How is the compass in any way related to The Devil's Triangle or to Salazar? In the movie, they try to explain it with a sentence: “if you betray it, your greatest fear comes true”. So, is Salazar Jack's greatest fear? I really doesn't seem right, Jack almost didn't remember Salazar when Henry mentioned him. To Jack, he's only a guy he outsmarted decades earlier. Also, Jack technically already gave the compass away, twice: to Elizabeth in Dead Man's Chest, to make her find the chest, and to Beckett in At World's End, when they're negotiating.

That's... That's Just Body Shaming, Mate

Let's talk about her. So, the woman's ugly. It can happen that a woman is ugly. Was it necessary to build an entire scene around some blatant body shaming? This scene wants to mimic the similar scene in Dead Man's Chest: Jack's on an island, running from the main villain, and he's forced to do things he doesn't want to do until someone saves him, then it was Will, now it's Hector.

Except in Dead Man's Chest it was LITERAL CANNIBALISM he was facing, and yet he looked LESS TERRIFIED and DISGUSTED. What's exactly the message here? Lads, is marrying an ugly woman worse than cannibalism? I don't know... that was just bad.

Justice for Hector Barbossa

If you know me (you probably don't, but if you do) then you know about my obsession with Hector Barbossa. I truly believe he's the best written character in the saga, and he's in my top five of the characters I love the most in all media. I watched The Curse of the Black Pearl when I was seven and I am autistic, so I had all the time to develop a literal relationship with these characters in my head. As much as Geoffrey Rush's interpretation was impeccable, as always, it really hurt to watch Hector in this movie. He just doesn't sound like him. First of all, why isn't he on the Queen Anne's Revenge? Why's he letting someone else sail around on his ships? He would've never. Why's he just sitting on a throne and shooting musicians instead of, I don't know... being a pirate? Being a pirate is the only thing that matters to him. He says it at the end of On Stranger Tides, and he even says it in this movie, to the witch. "I'm a pirate. Always will be".

So, why isn't he pirating? What happened to him? And what about the pact with the witch? He made her curse all his enemies; that's honestly the most out-of-character thing he could've done.

Seriously, watch this movie, and then The Curse of the Black Pearl and tell me he sounds like he's the same character. Then there’s his death... was it necessary? And I don't mean if it was necessary to the plot (it wasn't), but the way he died, did it make sense? He takes the sword and sacrifices himself to kill Salazar, but WHY? Salazar was back a mortal. They could've brought him to surface and then shoot him. What was the point of his death, Disney? I will never forgive you.

I would've preferred if they never showed him again. He's alive and living his best life in Tortuga, if you ask me.

How does Carina Smyth exist?

Let's do the maths. Carina Smyth has approximately the same age as Henry Turner, who was born around nine moths after the end of At World's End. At the end of that movie, Barbossa once again stole the Black Pearl (he's iconic we stan a legend), so we have to assume it is during that time (between the At World's End and On Stranger Tides) that he conceives Carina. He stays with this woman during the whole pregnancy, bacause he says he was there when she died. So nine months, at least, right? Except; Jack makes it clear that he and Barbossa met Carina's mom, Margaret, together.

When, exactly, did this happen? It can't be between On Stranger Tides and Dead Men Tell No Tales, because Hector himself says only five years passed between the two, and Carina doesn't look like a five-year-old;

it can't be between At World's End and On Stranger Tides, because we know Jack and Barbossa weren't together, and Hector was too busy losing a leg and planning his revenge by working for the King of England; it can't be during At World's End, because Barbossa was too busy rescuing Jack and then slaying (literally and metaphorically) Beckett's men to save piracy; it can't be during Dead Man's Chest, because he was dead; it can't be during The Curse of the Black Pearl, nor during the ten years before it, because he was... he was a skeleton, I hardly believe he could reproduce, despite what’s written in some fanficions; it can't be before, of course, because Carina would be too old. The only chance, but it's a stretch, is that Hector and Jack met this Margaret Smyth years and years before, and that at a certain point (while he was still busy slaying, losing a leg or planning his revenge), for some reason he decided to come back to her and accidentally had a daughter. That would mean that Jack remembered Margaret Smyth's name DECADES after he met her.

The Post-Credit Scene: What?

WHY'S DAVY JONES BACK? The Trident technically broke all the curses of the sea. He is THE cursed man of the sea. AND HE'S DEAD. The only answer I was able to give me, is that the moment the Trident broke the curses, the curse that said if you stab his heart he dies was also broken, so he technically didn't die, but it makes even less sense, because if the curses just aren't real anymore, then a man shouldn't be able to... carve out his heart and put it in a chest, right? (Which by the way, makes Will Turner being alive senseless as well). Even if so, Davy should've come back as a human.

My conclusion is that this movie should not exist, and we, as a community, should pretend it was never made. Hector is alive. Bye.

Imago

#potc #pirates of the caribbean #potc analysis #dead men tell no tales #analysis #media analysis #pirates #jack sparrow #hector barbossa #carina smyth #henry turner #elizabeth swann #will turner #calypso #davy jones #salazar

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eff4freddie · 7 months ago

Text

Touch | Part Six

Words: 5.8k

Just as you approach something resembling contentment, this broken world will exact its toll.

Warnings: smutty smut, trauma, grief, Joel hasn't come to terms with what happened in Salt Lake, Joel is bad at feelings, but pretty good with his hands. Minors DNI.

Part Five | Series Masterlist | Part Seven

You were busy again, the new table earning its keep almost immediately, and the ease that you moved around your treatment room, the way that you could bend without reaching over, push with your weight rather than your wrists, meant that you could concentrate more, heal more effectively. You hadn’t realised how much the clumsiness of the old dining table had been holding you back. Every day that you used it, you wanted to find a new way to thank Joel. Maybe even sometimes, with all of your clothes on.

Except that the idea also terrified you, in a way that you were struggling to really understand. The idea of him, of being naked with him, not that you really fully had been, of kissing him even, no that you had, was enough to send an absolute riot of butterflies careening through your guts and down into your legs, into your knees. The idea of him scared you, his reputation proceeded him, and you kept thinking of how wary Maria was, how protective Ellie seemed to be, how sweetly oblivious Tommy was most of the time which you were beginning to suspect was actually a choice. You wanted to pull them all into a room and forensically map out who the fuck Joel Miller actually was. You were aware you were thinking like a crazy person. You didn’t care.

Because then when he was with you, when you fell into his orbit, looked into his eyes, there was something heavier and realer and more tangible than your stupid, flighty, squawking fears. It worried you, that he made you into a different person when he was around you. You weren’t sure what that person was capable of getting up to, left to her own devices, but you had an inkling.

You knew that you were pushing him away, pushing it all away, because it scared you, but also it felt like the only sane thing to do, had kept you alive for years and years, had meant that when you lost people it hurt less, maybe. Being busy again, and fairly invested in maintaining your denial for as long as you could manage it, you got back to your usual routine of seeing the broken and weary people of Jackson early, before the work hours, and then steadily throughout the day. It afforded you the illusion of being sociable, of contributing to the community, without having to actually be in it. Without Ray and Marla, with Maria and Tommy wrapped up in the baby, with Joel being…Joel, you had collected a long list of clients and a dwindling list of friends. It could have made you sad if you thought about it, so you didn’t, and you were too busy anyway, and how could you be lonely with all these people in your house?

Besides which, in the quiet moments you could feel the tension in people, the uneasiness woven tight into the musculature of most of the residents you now saw. Not everyone knew Marla or Jacob or the others personally, not everyone even necessarily liked them, especially not fucking Jacob, but everyone had an investment in their safe and hopefully bountiful return.

To escape it, you went for long walks along the foreshore of Jackon’s lake at the bottom of the township, until the dying light forced you back. You were there, hands in the freezing water feeling out for flat stones you could warm in hot water and press into particularly assertive muscle knots, when you heard the yelling. You were up and sprinting, the twisty and icy path underneath you occasionally threatening to boot you into the snow, and if you’d had time to think about it you have marvelled at the difference in your reaction from Joel and Ellie’s homecoming to this one. The elation you felt at their return, the relief of it, not just for you and Marla and Ray, but for Jackon. For what it meant for this community. For your community.

Trying not to knock yourself out on the way to the gate meant that you didn’t initially notice the quiet. There was a smattering of people still out despite the cold, the encroaching darkness, but they weren’t rushing forward, weren’t really helping the returned residents, were in fact milling around, some just standing in quiet observance, and it occurred to you for a second that they were like onlookers at a funeral. You pushed forward into the crowd, trying to see past unmoving shoulders, past still bodies, moving towards the sounds of horses, of panting breaths you weren’t sure belonged to whom.

And then you arrived at the front, and you had a clear view. And you realised the panting breaths were your own.

There were only two horses, and only three riders. Marla at the reigns of one, Jacob slung over the back of her saddle, slumping over at an odd angle, his head rolled back in a way that you thought would really strain his cervical spine, until you realised he was tied to the horse, had been roped around Marla’s midsection, that he was nearly as pale as the snow around you, that he was very dead. The other rider stared, unblinking, into the distance and was eventually helped down and led to the infirmary, not ever having said a word.

Marla had seen you, had watched you fight your way to the front of the crowd, had searched you out. She was shivering, a splatter of blood across her chest and under her neck, and you couldn’t tell if it was hers or if it was Jacob’s or someone else’s entirely, and in that moment staring into her eyes you knew that it didn’t matter, that it would never matter, that whatever damage it was it had already been calculated, tallied, on a ledger somewhere none of you would ever be able to balance.

You motioned to a few of the men around you, gesturing to the ropes around Marla’s middle. ‘Cut him loose,’ you said, in a voice you didn’t recognise, and reached your arms up to hold Marla’s hand. You held it, limp and contrite in yours, while Jacob’s body was freed from hers. When he was lifted away she slumped forward, her back having held his weight for god knows how long, and you caught her, pulled her down from the horse on wobbling legs, let her crumple underneath you and set her down onto the pavement. Someone pulled a blanket over her shoulders and you held her in it, gripped her hard and tight and let her shake in your arms. You looked up into the eyes of Ray, who looked like he might throw up or pass out or both, and you pulled him down with you, wrapped him around her while he cried into her hairline, and you watched as the horses were led away.

‘Did you bring anything?’ someone asked from the crowd, quiet but hopeful, and you wanted to reach up and slap them for every moronic word they had dared speak into existence, had thought to utter in this sacred space of abject loss.

Marla never answered, and you squeezed her. She twisted in your arms to look up at you, an angry purple and yellow bruise forming having formed under her eye. You turned to Ray. ‘Help me get her to mine,’ you said.

You had the fire going, and you pushed your old armchair right up to it, folding Marla into it under a sea of blankets. Ray went to get something to bring her from the mess hall, something warming but easy to chew, and you perched beside her, slid down until her knees were in your lap and she was resting her head against the wing of the chair, and you stared, together, into the fire.

‘We barely made it back,’ she whispered, her voice dry, her lips chapped and windburned. You stayed still, not wanting to shake her, not wanting to do anything that might stop her from talking. ‘Rode through, all night. I wanted to bring him back, bring them all but I could only get him.’

‘Was it raiders?’ you asked, and she shook her head.

‘Both,’ she said, and you didn’t understand. ‘Raiders that had…kept a few clickers, had them locked up, had them uhhh…weaponised.’

You shuddered. ‘Like pets?’ you asked.

‘Like torture devices,’ she simply replied. You contemplated this for a second, couldn’t imagine it, the terror of being faced with that choice: raider or runner.

‘We got within a few hours of where we thought the pharmacy was,’ she went on, her voice catching. She continued to shake, her hands tremoring underneath the blanket, and you tried to tuck her in tighter, tried to warm her up. ‘We’d gone through a valley, ended up on the other side of a glade, it would have been so beautiful in the before times. We found a farmhouse, looked abandoned. Wasn’t.’

She was jiggling her foot and you put your hand out to hold it, feeling that her socks were wet. ‘By the time we realised they were already on us, were ready, had seen us coming.’

She looked at you, tears forming in her eyes. ‘They tried to lock us in the cage with them,’ she swallowed. ‘Jacob was really brave, fought them hard, stopped them from putting us in.’

If cold had gotten into her boots she must have been freezing, was risking losing a toe. You lifted the blankets to pull at her sock, putting your hand on her bare skin to warm it.

‘But one of them, two of them maybe, they got out,’ she continued. You held the ball of her foot in your hand, rubbing your thumb over the top of her foot in what you hoped were comforting little circles.

‘I just wanted to get him back here,’ she said, just as you felt it, a raised, rough ridge on her ankle, tendrils of heat snaking up her shin. You threw the blankets back, saw the bite there, the way the ropes of twisting fungus had already started their march up to her heart. You froze, your terrified eyes snapping to her wet, sorry, scared ones.

‘Don’t let Ray do it,’ she said.

It didn’t matter that you hadn’t been there before, you knew where it was. You wrapped on the door so hard you would later discover the skin on your knuckles had split. All you could hear was the ringing in your ears, your vision narrowed down to a pinprick, the look on Marla’s face so drawn, so scared, so resolute, imprinted on the inside of your eyelids. You kept wrapping, hopping from side to side, your tears mingling with the frigid air. You called for him on his front porch, your voice high and choking on the fear, on the grief in it.

He'd wrenched the door open, having pulled his boots on but not yet done up the laces, the furrow in his brow deep, his eyes wild when he clocked you, when he checked your six.

‘Jesus, are you? What is it?’ he spluttered, and you couldn’t let him finish, had to get the words out in case they poisoned you.

‘She’s bit, Joel,’ you spat out, watching his face fall.

‘Who, Ellie?’ he asked, panic rising in his voice, and you choked out a sob, shaking your head fiercely. He grabbed you by both shoulders, bending down to look you in the eye. You shook underneath him, wanted to launch yourself into his chest and bury yourself in it.

‘Marla,’ you said, shivering so hard your jaw was barely cooperating. ‘She came back bit.’

‘Where is she?’ he asked, and you told him. You’d locked her in your treatment room. She hadn’t turned yet, and you figured there was still an hour or two, maybe. The tremors you’d thought were the cold, shock.

‘Please, Joel,’ you said, and he was already heading back into the house to grab his rifle. Tears were streaming down your face now, your knees threatening to give. ‘Please be kind about it.’

He pulled you in, off his porch and into his living room. Set you down on the rug beside the fire.

‘I’ve got you,’ he said. ‘You stay here, you stay warm. You wait for me. You don’t come lookin’, you hear me?’

You nodded, and he shook his head at you. ‘Repeat it,’ he said.

‘I won’t come looking,’ you said, quiet and desperate like a child. He nodded, then, his rifle slung over his shoulder. You took a long breath in, felt the burn of it down your chest and into your lungs. Felt the electricity crackle between the two of you, arcing from his chest to yours through the air, let it fuel you for the next part.

The three of you had just left Chicago, two or so days into your trek towards Wyoming, to maybe find something better, to maybe find more of the same. Ray and Marla were ahead of you by about four paces, you deciding to hang back to let them chat. You could hear their murmurs, Ray’s giggle high and giddy when Marla made him laugh. You could imagine the two of them strolling down a sidewalk together, one hand holding their coffees with the other hand holding each other’s. You could see the golden light of the late afternoon in the trees, backlighting them as they chatted about their work, about their friends, about what movie they wanted to see on the weekend. You could imagine them going out for dinner of an evening, Marla resting her head on Ray’s shoulder as the sun set over the water, the two of them intertwined and suburban and blissfully, delightfully bored.

You were so lost in this reverie that you hadn’t realised they were talking to you until you nearly rammed into them, and you stopped to see them smiling, warmly at you.

‘You were a million miles away,’ Marla observed, and she reached out to pinch your arm.

‘Years,’ you said. ‘I was a million years away.’

You sat with your legs folded underneath you on Joel’s floor, the fire warming your skin enough to remind you that you were alive. Your stomach ached, your chest burned, you rocked backwards and forwards and tucked your chin into your chest and sobbed, alternating between wiping your tears with the top of your shirt and just letting them fall onto the carpet.

You saw yourself as if you were floating outside your body, observed yourself get up on all fours and keen into the carpet, unleashing a wail unlike anything you’d ever heard. You thought, for a second, that this woman on the floor was unrecognisable, was barely human, scratching at the rug and trying to breathe through the sobs.

The night grew darker. The fire died down. You collapsed in on yourself, felt the last guide rope tethering you to the ground fail, and you slipped under, crouched on the floor with your forehead resting on your arms, your knees numb from the weight of pressing into the rug, your mind empty, time having stopped, the world having fallen off its axis. A small part of you observed in wonder at how much grief you could carry. A larger part, a wiser part, a part that had taken a back seat to let the banshee take the wheel for a while, knew that this was so much more than Marla. Knew that it was all of them, a ledger steeped in red.

In the darkness you became vaguely aware of footsteps, the sound of the fire being stoked, logs being added. Felt a blanket thrown over your shoulders, then warm hands on the small of your back guiding you, pulling you up and over to sit astride a warm body, a strong pair of legs. You wrapped your arms around him, clung to him like a koala to a Eucalypt, snuffled your tear-streaked face into his neck, into his shirt. He held you to him, a hand buried in your hair and cradling your skull in his palm, the other wrapped around your back, easing the fabric away and tucking under, to touch you, skin to skin. You heard whispers of words, mixed with your own sobs, your own gasps. He held you through all of it, on aching bones on the hard floor, until the crashing waves settled, until you finally washed ashore.

‘You don’t have a couch,’ you said, after a while, pulling your head up to observe the oddly sparse furniture arrangement. He snickered, leaning you back to brush the hair out of your eyes, away from your wet face.

You realised, after a moment, heat on your cheeks. ‘Oh,’ you said, simply. He gazed at you, watched you put two and two together, stood unshaken in all that he had sacrificed for you.

‘But where do you sit?’ you asked, and he nodded towards the old rocking chair he’d pulled in from the porch outside. You nodded your head, because it was perfect really, and because it made sense, and because you needed it to.

‘Is she gone?’ you asked, shifting on his lap to watch his face. He blinked slowly, nodded. You felt your face crumple, felt him tighten his hold on you. ‘Was it bad?’ you choked out, and he shook his head.

‘She was so brave,’ he said, gravelly voice just above a whisper. He reached out and cupped your face, wiped a tear away, held your gaze to him. ‘She was ready. She said when it was time.’

‘She didn’t…turn?’ you asked, clinging to his forearms now, letting him anchor you. He shook his head once more.

‘No, baby,’ he said, and you wanted to wrap yourself up in the sound of it, let it blanket you in warmth and quiet, burrow down into it and hibernate for the winter.

‘Thank you,’ you said, simply. He hummed in response, collecting a tear on his thumb and raising it to his lips, licking it clean. You gasped at the sight of it, his eyes never leaving yours, squirming on his lap, the sudden heat in your cunt catching you off guard. ‘Joel?’ you whispered, and he raised his eyebrows at you. ‘Are your legs numb?’ and he laughed then, because you had managed to surprise him, and after he caught his breath he sheepishly nodded. ‘Take me to bed, then,’ you said, climbing off him and extending a hand. You hauled him up, his knees creaking. For a moment the both of you stood, staring at each other in the light of the fire. You felt breathless with need for him, your head swimming, the sadness shifting just enough to let the heat in, the want. ‘Up the stairs,’ he told you. You slipped your hand into his paw.

Joel’s bedroom was sparse, the walnut oak bed pressed up against the wall, a stack of books on the floor beneath a bare lamp, a guitar in the corner. His scent was all over the sheets, all over the clothes strewn around the floor. You pressed yourself against him in the hope that you would absorb some of it into your cotton.

The moment you crossed the threshold his hands were on you, pulling your clothes from you like they had personally insulted him, shucking your jeans off your hips and pulling your panties down with them until you were bare, standing before him at the foot of his bed. He took a step back and you watched his face as his gaze devoured you, the heat of it so scorching that you could swear you could feel his fingers on you even standing three feet away. You trembled from the cold air and the intensity of it, and he saw in your face, read in you that you wanted to turn away from it, from the intimacy of it.

‘Don’t,’ he all but whispered, coming towards you and running his hands up on the outside of your arms. ‘Don’t be shy, not now,’ he said. He slipped a hand behind your back and his knees between yours, pushing you gently onto the bed behind you, laid his body over you and nipped at the skin behind your ear. You pulled at his flannel, trying to claw it from him without even unbuttoning it, groaning in frustration when the garment held fast. He snickered, his little lopsided grin, as he pulled it away.

You lifted yourself up on one arm, bringing the other to cradle him to you, licks and nibbles to his collar bone, to the patches of hair on his chin. His brought his hands to your breasts, pebbled the nipple with his fingers while he pushed and rolled them, squeezed them together just to watch them bounce. He was hard and heavy between your legs, still covered in his jeans, and you lifted shaking fingers to his belt buckle. He froze, a sharp intake of breath between his teeth, as he watched you. You faltered, worried for a second you had read it all wrong, that he was going to push you from him, that he had seen something in you, that you had revealed something wrong and gnarled.

‘Do you…should I?’ you stuttered, and he came to his senses again, his brow creasing when he saw you were floundering.

‘Oh, my sweet girl,’ he said, and you thought it would be kinder if he just set you on fire at that point, ‘darlin’ I was just awed for a second, that somethin’ as gorgeous as you would want a man like me. An old man like me.’

You felt the relief wash over you, your pulse quickening now but not from fear. ‘Seasoned,’ you grinned, bringing him back down to you, pulling him on top of you as his hands helped yours to free him, push his jeans over his hips. ‘Worn in,’ you went on, and he grinned at your little game. ‘Fine wine,’ you finished, and he snickered again.

‘Vinegar,’ he said, and you pushed his head down to your chest, fed him your breast, let him lave at your nipple while you gasped and clutched at his hair.

‘Experienced,’ you whimpered, and he huffed out a warm laugh into your breastbone. You wanted to unlock your ribs, swing them open like an ancient garden gate, and capture it there for safe keeping.

Free, now, the two of you naked and lying together on top of his blanket, the sheets rumpling underneath you as you rutted against each other. He reached a hand down to cup your sex, groaning when he felt how wet he had made you, how you were dripping for him. You gasped as he ran his fingers up and over your slit, gently teasing your lips apart, testing you, teasing you. You rolled your hips, trying to snare him, trying to slide him inside, but he worked against you, zigged when you zagged, and your frustrated little gasps delighted him.

‘Joel,’ you groaned, your voice tight across your chest, not enough air in your lungs to properly scold him. He ignored you, instead lifting his lips to his fingers and sampling a little taste. You watched him, eyes wide as his fell shut at the taste of you.

‘So sweet,’ he said, almost to himself, before he opened his eyes as if he just remembered you were there. ‘Here, baby,’ he said, and he fed yourself to you, his fingers sliding over your tongue as you suckled at them, his hot breath on your face as he watched you, pupils dark in the half-light of his lamp, sweat forming on his brow.

When you had sucked them clean he lowered them again, slipped them inside you, bending down to rest his ear on your mouth when you began to pant, to whimper.

‘Show me,’ he said, pulling your hand to your cunt and watching as you began slow, lazy circles around your clit. He furrowed his brow, pushed off you and down to watch properly, lifted a leg to prop you open, planting your foot on the mattress beneath you to open you wide and obscene in front of him. You blushed, moved to cover your face with your hands, but he stopped and caught you, brought your fingers back to your core before he slipped inside again. You raised your head to look at him beneath you and you realised he was learning you, studying your movements to replicate them later, letting you teach him how to touch you so that you’d never have to do it alone again.

Your first orgasm hit you hard. Under his careful, studious gaze you felt yourself unravel, your legs shaking where he held you open, his hand grasping at your ankle to keep you from slamming shut. So lost in the feeling of it, of the blooming heat expanding out and into your belly, of the undulations of your cunt around his fingers, that you barely noticed him slip his fingers from you and slide to the ground beside the bed, pushing your legs into your chest and holding them there, pressing you in half all the better to ease his tongue into your cunt and lick up your spend, kitten licks at your sensitive clit before plunging his tongue into your hole, breathing hard through his nose and groaning, uttering filth in the base of his throat as he devoured you, wrung your second orgasm from you in a matter of minutes, rolling from side to side and head thrown back, hands tangled in his hair as his mouth rode you, as he stayed with you up to your peak and then over it, savouring and lapping at your come, rutting into the side of the bed as he let your thighs down to rest on his shoulders, your breath ragged and rippling with pleasure, hands clutching to the blanket to steady himself, to catch his breath.

He gazed at you in repose, ran his eyes over your sopping cunt up to your heaving belly, to the curve of the underside of your breast, the nipples straining into the cold air, and then up to your face, your head thrown back as you came down, as you squirmed from the overstimulation still coursing through you, as you let your hands drop beside you, sated and glorious in his worship of you.

You swallowed, your mouth, lips, throat dry. With shaky hands you reached for him, grabbed at the air above his shoulders, felt him shift and rise up to meet you, felt his weight blanketing you as you came back to yourself. With one hand in your hair and the other tracing your cheek, your jaw, you opened your eyes to stare into his, the desire carved hard and deep into his features.

‘Take it,’ you whispered, watching as his bottom lip quivered with need. ‘Please, Joel.’

He shifted his weight to one arm, reached down between you as you lifted your legs to bracket his hips, crossing your feet at the ankles behind his back. You felt him guide his cock to the weeping maw of your cunt.

‘Please,’ you whispered again, as you felt him slip inside you, the burn and the stretch and the force of him, so hard and pulsing as he parted you. He dropped his head, sighing, and you planted your lips to his brow, whimpered at the weight of his cock inside you, at the weight of the two of you finally, finally joined.

‘She’s tight, baby,’ he said, his brow creasing. He moved his hips, shoving further into you in one shot, and you gasped, grabbed at his shoulders, brought his eyes back to yours. He paused, gazing into your eyes, read the trepidation in them. ‘S’ok baby,’ he cooed, leaning down to place a kiss on your cheekbone. ‘You can do it,’ he encouraged, and you felt the warmth of his reassurance radiate down your thighs. ‘We can take our time,’ he said, languidly pulling back from you before gently, achingly, taking his place again. ‘Got all night for ya,’ he said, and you realised he had started to ramble, and that under his hot breath, on top of his blanket in his sparse bedroom lit only by his bedside lamp, in the cold Jackson night where the snow dampened all the noise, all the loss, all the sharp edges down, you never wanted him to stop whispering his filthy encouragement to you, never wanted him to stop easing his way into you, to the core of you, marking you where only he belonged.

‘Doin’ so good for me,’ he went on, his eyes closing on their own, lost in the grip of your cunt around him, in the heat of you. Finally he was fully seated, the warmth of his belly coming to rest upon yours. He settled there, reluctant to move, until you squirmed underneath him, caged whimpers escaping your throat. He opened his eyes, his lopsided grin appearing above you, as he planted a kiss on your hairline, gazed down at you as you stretched around him. He brought his hand down to cup your jaw again, held you there under his stare, as he withdrew his hips and eased back in again, pushing deeper into you that you gasped when he bottomed out, his eyes never leaving yours as your mouth dropped open in surprise at the feeling he was pulling from you, at the need and the ache of your cunt spread so open and wanting for him, at the way he was so effortlessly taking you apart, so calmly and so warmly unravelling you.

‘Too good,’ you complained, your brow saddling and jaw clenching, as you felt your cunt grip and release, grip and release. He cooed at you, revelling in your whimpers, gasped as you did, shared in your breath, made you submit to the divinity he was pushing you towards. This was how your third orgasm found you.

Locked in his gaze you could only lie beneath him, holding him to you by the shoulders and groaning as he pistoned in and out, watching his eyes slam shut as he was dragged under, submitted to the pull, his come washing the fear and the stress and the grief out of you, replacing it only with scorching heat, with a kind of pleasure indistinguishable from a greedy, pernicious want, with something that, in another life, you could have shaped into love.

You lay, entwined together, under his blanket. Your head on his chest, ear to his heartbeat, you felt your body rise and fall as he breathed underneath you. You hadn’t wanted the night to end, hadn’t wanted to close your eyes and wake to the aftermath. Together you lay and watched the sunrise. Occasionally Joel ran his fingers up and down your arm to let you know he was still there.

‘Joel?’ you whispered, and he hummed in response. You kept your head down, listening to his pulse quicken as you spoke. ‘Canna ask you something?’ you said, jaw resting on his ribs.

‘Uhhuh,’ he said, but his fingers were stopped now, frozen in place on your shoulder.

‘Before, when we were…’ you trailed off, because even though hours before he had been eyelevel with your swollen, puffy cunt, now suddenly talking about it felt too intimate. ‘Before,’ you started again, ‘you said you didn’t think I’d want a man like you.’

‘An old man,’ he corrected, and you smiled.

‘Seasoned,’ you corrected, and he groaned, theatrically. ‘But you said a man like you, then an old man like you,’ you reminded him. He wasn’t laughing anymore, and you could feel the temperature in the room drop. ‘What did you mean?’ you ploughed on, because you were in it now.

He thought for a moment, swallowing hard. You shifted in his arms, looked up at him, saw the flicker of panic there, before he reset his features in stone. You pulled away from him in surprise, not having seen that look directed at you in weeks, not since the first time he had appeared reticent and sore at your door. Your stomach dropped.

‘I gotta check on the horses,’ he said, rolling you out of the way and moving to get up. You sat up with him, grabbing at his arm.

‘Joel,’ you said, trying to pull him back towards you, but so easily overpowered. He rolled his shoulder, shaking you off.

‘The two that came back, they need to be checked over. Waited for first light.’

‘Joel, I don’t understand what’s happening.’ He was standing, pacing around the room pulling his clothes back together, gathering yours and dropping them on the end of the bed. He stared at you, expectant, but you refused to move.

‘What kind of man did you mean, Joel?’ you pressed him, and he scoffed, pulling his jeans on and hastily doing up his shirt. He missed a few buttons, and in that moment you didn’t feel like helping him.

‘You know exactly what kind of man,’ he said.

You saw Maria’s tense shoulders when he came into her kitchen, bleeding. You saw her sitting in your kitchen as you held her feet to your chest, explaining how Tommy was different, how he had only wanted to impress his big brother.

Sort of dressed, he was now pacing, the morning light turning his skin a ghostly pale, and you thought for a moment he was haunting you. ‘You know exactly,’ he repeated. ‘Same reason you came running to me the second your friend needed killin’.’

You flinched like he’d slapped you, would have preferred if he had.

‘What kind of man, Joel?’ you asked, and he looked at you, then, tortured for a second before he wiped it away with his hand on his face.

‘A fuckin killer,’ he said, quiet and deathly in the chill of the morning.

You stared at him, heart racing. You were surprised and you also weren’t. You knew what this world demanded of people, the toll you had all paid for survival.

‘Infected?’ you asked, and he sighed, frustrated.

‘Don’t be so fuckin’ naïve,’ he said.

You remembered you were naked, but this was the first time he had really made you feel it, and you held the blanket to your chest, tight.

He wouldn’t look at you, staring instead out the window as Jackson woke.

‘I ain’t a good man,’ he said, quietly, and you shook your head.

‘I don’t believe that,’ you said, and he sneered at you then, picked up your clothes and threw them at you.

‘You don’t know shit about me,’ he said, and then he was gone. You listened as his heavy footsteps stomped down the stairs, the pause as he pulled his boots on, the slam of the door.

Taglist:

@orcasoul

@archofimagine

@hiroikegawa

@ilovejoel-andjavi

@giggly-otter

@harrysrosetatto

@Hjzghi-blog

@daddy-dins-girl

@kathaaaaaaa

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #tlou fanfiction

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catnipaddictt · 7 months ago

Text

jailbreak

scott barringer x gn!reader

synopsis: You and Scott decide to escape New Horizons, a camp for at risk teens.

wc: 1.3k

tw: none

comment: there is a lack of Scott content on tumblr so I decided I wanted to write something. Also I fell in love with higher ground, i didn't think it was going to be that good, but i binged it in under a week.

You kick at the ground with your beat-up old sneakers, watching as moisture falls from the blades of grass. Grumbling could be heard from in front of you as the ground of teens treked behind their leader. Ever since you had arrived at New Horizons, it was basically walk after walker. You swear once you are out of this place you would never hike again. But alas you had now been here for almost 2 months, and Peter sure wasn't letting you out anytime soon.

Picking up your feet, you begin to follow your group as they walk uphill through the forest that surrounds the school. You make up the back of the pack, mostly just because you prefer to walk at a more leisurely pace.

“Hey” you glance to your side to be met with blue eyes. Scott. He had been here for around the same time you had meaning that you were both ‘fresh meat’. If you could even call yourself that anymore. You reply back with a “hi” focusing on not tripping on any tree roots. Scott was at New Horizons for a drug related problem, something a lot of the students had issues with. He was normally standoffish and refused to participate but you two got along just fine. Which led to the little problem of your not so little crush on the tall boy.

“I hate walking” he states plainly and you agree, nodding your head. “I mean, how is this supposed to help, walking up hills isn't going to fix a bunch of messed up kids” Scott continues. “It sucks, I just want to get out of here” you reply. “Hey, what if we-” Scott seems to want to say something but changes his mind, shaking his head. “Nevermind.” You glance at him confused. “C'mon, you have got to say it now” you laugh. “It was stupid anyways” he grumbles at the ground.

“Oh boo-hoo, just tell me” you practically beg. Scott sees this and ultimately starts to speak, “we could get out of here you know? It's only the forest holding us back I mean. And we have pretty much walked all of it twice over.” You turn your head to look at him, “you mean run away?” you ask. He has caught your full attention now. “See, told you it was dumb” Scott answers.

“Let's do it.”

“Sorry?” He states, “you can't be serious.” He raises an eyebrow. “Oh I'm serious. I have had enough of this place. Worst case scenario we get caught, that's like a few days of confinement to the cabins.” You reply smoothly. It was definitely a horrible idea but it's not like life was too exciting for you at the moment.”I mean, I'm down if you are” Scott shrugs. You think for a moment before replying. “Okay two days from now there is the school bonfire thing. We pack bags beforehand, I'll sneak into the kitchens and get us some food and stuff, and we can meet up by the docks. They won't notice we have gone for a few hours at least.”

Scott looks at you “a few hours head start is probably as good as we are going to get.” He makes up his mind, “okay I'm in.”

The next two days passed rather slowly, with not much really happening apart from lectures about personal wellness. What a waste of your time. You were counting down the minutes until your and Scott's escape out of here.

The final hours of your time at New Horizons were spent packing a bag, light enough to not slow you down, but enough to keep you going until you could get more supplies. Your next job was the kitchen.

The sun had almost disappeared by the time you reached the space, quietly opening and shutting the door behind you. You grabbed two large plastic bottles of water, placing them in your bag, as well as a few cans of food and lots of snacks. This was definitely enough to last you a few days. Getting through the forest should only take a few hours, the tricky part was not being seen around town.

Zipping up your bag you sneak out of the kitchen, making your way to the docks. You could see Scott's shadow cast on the wooden planks, giving his location away. You walk almost silently up to him and he jumps a little at you appearing. “Don't sneak up on me like that” he says playfully.

You nod your head in the direction of the path leading to the forest “time to go?” The light from the bonfire flickers over the landscape, making it feel like something out of a 80’s horror film. “Yeah, let's do it”

You both make your way out of the school and into the dense forest. There is nearly no light apart from the occasional bit of moon peeking through the canopy. Scott pulls two flashlights out of his bag, passing one to you “borrowed Auggie’s, hope he doesn't mind” he shrugs and you laugh. Poor Auggie had been robbed of his only torch.

After about an hour of walking Scott starts telling you clearly made up stories about people getting lost in the woods never to be seen again. Typical teenager boy behavior. You roll your eyes in response - not that he could see. “That's so not real” you speak, only to be met with a yelp as he trips over a tree root. You cannot contain your laughter at the action. “Not funny” he grumbles.

The next few hours pass in a blur. The clear night makes your walk nicer than you thought it was going to be. Scott being there helped a lot. You both exchange tales of your lives before New Horizons, Scott tells you about his football games and school. Up ahead of you, you can see where the ground drops about 6 feet or so, meaning you will have to climb down. Scott goes first, passing you his bag so you can throw it down to him once he is on solid ground. Once he reaches the earth again you throw down his bag followed by yours. He catches them and puts them down on the ground. Now it's your turn to make the descent.

You make it most of the way down without fail, but the place where you put your left foot collapses and you are forced to jump back and onto the dirt covered ground. Luckily you don’t hurt yourself but in the process you manage to basically slam into your companion. He lets out a sound at the impact, “woah there.” “Sorry Scott.”

After another hour you finally reach the edge of civilization and you exchange grins with the blonde boy. You had made it with close to little hiccups. Making it onto town, you and Scott begin to brainstorm what to do now. “We need to get further away before first light, then people might see the two of us. And when Peter comes asking they will know we were here” You think out loud. “We could hitchhike?” Scott suggests “It's risky but if we walk further out of town we have a better chance of someone who is passing through and not a local?”

You agree to the plan and after a quick break from walking you both set out again. Now that you are out of the dense forest you can see the night sky. It's clear tonight and you can see all the stars, you will miss it in a way. But you made your decision. As you walk, your hand brushes against Scott’s prompting you to snap your arm close to your side, embarrassed. You can sense his head turning to look at you briefly before he looks straight ahead again. Then, if on second thought, he grabs your hand in his, interlocking your pinkies. You look down at your and Scott's hand and smile. Maybe, just maybe it would all work out fine.

I'm not sure about the ending of this one as I kinda didn't know how to finish it but oh well. Im also finishing writing a whole heap of requests, so expect those soon!

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen x reader #higher ground #higherground #higher ground tv show #scott barringer #scott higher ground #scott barringer x reader #scott barringer x you #hayden christensen x you

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lanawinterscigarettes · 1 month ago

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hi gorgeous!! can i req pumpkin picking with jennifer and a female reader?? its not kinky but ive been needing some jen fluff! (i livee for your writing btw 🫶🫶)

ofc you can! and thank you so much, you're very sweet 🥰 (so far you're the only person who's requested for something fall/halloween themed that isn't related to kinktober believe it or not) hope you like it 💕💕

Pumpkin Patch (Jennifer Check x fem reader)

Warnings: very brief and mild swearing, Jen is implied to have already been possessed by the demon at this point but the reader doesn't know, fluff other than that <3

"What about this one?" You asked while pointing to one of the many pumpkins that dotted the massive field.

"It's not round enough," your girlfriend Jennifer critiqued, giving it a judgmental look.

Her answer didn't surprise you. It had been almost an hour since you'd arrived at the pumpkin patch, and she still hadn't found one that she liked.

"Jen, c'mon, it's starting to get cold outside," you lightly complained while zipping up your jacket. "Just pick one so we can go."

"Oh, I'm sorry, you're right. The look of the pumpkin doesn't matter, it's the inside that counts," she replied in a snarky tone, placing her hands on her hips. "Which means any old pumpkin will do, even if it's fugly as hell."

You remained quiet while she spoke, pretty used to her attitude by this point. "Seriously, though. We're just going to end up carving it into a Jack-O-Lantern anyway, so why does it need to be perfect?"

She let out an aggravated huff at the question, giving you a look that said, "Are you stupid?" before responding with, "This is kind of, like, my first ever Halloween I've spent doing stupid couples activities. I just want to find one that'll be perfect."

You suddenly felt like the worst girlfriend ever. No wonder she was so deadset on having a perfect pumpkin, she didn't want her first holiday season with a partner that actually cared about her to fall short of her expectations.

"How about we walk back over this way again? Maybe you'll happen to find one that you like," you suggested in a tone that was both soft and understanding while holding your hand out for her to take.

She wanted to roll her eyes and scoff, but she could tell you were really trying your best to make her happy. "Ugh, fine."

Jennifer took your hand, lacing her warm fingers through your cold ones. You had no idea how she always managed to stay so toasty even in such freezing weather conditions, but you weren't complaining.

After what seemed like ages of searching, you were finally able to find a pumpkin that you could both agree on. It was pretty heavy for you, but she didn't even seem to break a sweat when lifting it up.

"You know, I should really be the one carrying it for you so you're not forced to do any hard work," you lightly teased, knowing full well your knees would instantly buckle under the weight.

This time she did roll her eyes, but it was more playful than anything else. "And have you break your back? Absolutely not. I'm not lugging both you and this pumpkin all the way to the emergency room because you decided you wanted to show off."

You grinned at her response, finding it amusing. Despite her aloof personality, you knew if something actually did happen to you she'd be there at an instant in order to help you.

"So how should we carve our pumpkin? Do you want to do the traditional look of a Jack-O-Lantern, or something else?"

"I don't want my pumpkin to look like it was carved by a bunch of nerds, if that's what you're asking," she said with a hair flip, the breeze catching the scent of her perfume and causing it to waft in your direction. You didn't want to sound like a creep, but god did she smell good.

"Well, we can always go online and look for a design there. Maybe Pinterest will have some cool inspos for how we should carve our pumpkin," you began before adding, "Or we could always just freehand it. I mean, if we mess it up we can always just start again with a new one."

Jennifer wasn't even listening at this point, too caught up by the melodious sound of your voice and the exicted sparkle in your eyes to pay much attention to what you were saying. She realized then it didn't even matter how the pumpkin got carved, because she was just happy she got to spend this time with you.

End notes: this was really fun to write <3 I promise I haven't forgotten about Kinktober y'all I'm working on getting a few more days done before I start posting for it again

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

Main masterlist | Jennifer's Body masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @missmewts @ghot-girl @taecube @corn3liiia @gilmore-angel @your-next-daydream @alexxavicry @noisy-dumb-piece-of-shit @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @theonetruepotato87 @madisonbeerssecretwife @caplanreblogsfics @certifiedwomenlover

#jennifers body #jennifers body imagine #jennifers body x reader #jennifers body fic #jennifers body fluff #jennifer check #jennifer check imagine #jennifer check x reader #jennifer check fic #jennifer check fluff #fem reader #x fem reader #jennifer check x fem reader

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ot3 · 4 months ago

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Hey! The link to your FAQ wasn't working for me so I don't know if this question has been asked before. I really appreciate your perspectives on AI art. Do you happen to have any resources that you read/listened to on intellectual property rights and the issues with it? I just don't really know where to start with it.

[heres where i cut out a big paragraph of me, once again, bitching about how blog pages don't work on the tumblr app and i think that's fucking stupid]

anyway i dont have any generalized sources on the subject but the tl;dr of it is: intellectual property rights exclusively benefit people who have the resources to pursue sustained litigation. 99% of the time, what IP law is being used for is to reinforce corporate ownership of work that was done by their employees.

the whole disco elysium debacle is a great case study.

The shareholders of ZA/UM accused the trio of, among other things, intending to steal intellectual property (IP) from the company — a curious accusation, considering that the world of the game is based off of a novel written by Kurvitz himself. The case of Disco Elysium illustrates the shortcomings of IP rights as protection for artists. Consequently, it contains a lot of lessons for the labor movement when it comes to the arts, and serves as a reminder that creative workers are, at the end of the day, workers. But this is not just an academic exercise. It’s a human story about the intimate consequences of capitalist exploitation. “I got my soul ripped out of me,” Kurvitz told me over Zoom in April of 2023. “I got my skull cracked open and my brain lifted out of it by a fifty-five-year-old financial criminal.”

another example: alex norris of webcomic name, which you will probably recognize when you see it, has been raising hundreds of thousands of dollars over the past several years to try and keep up with the protracted legal battle over maintaining ownership of his own work.

I have been fighting this case since 2019. It arose out of an agreement to make a boardgame based on my webcomic in 2017 but the publishing company has used this as an opportunity to take all of my intellectual property, and has even claimed ownership of Webcomic Name as a whole. I can't go into more detail here, but the details of the case are publicly available to read online.

Then, in a 2024 update:

I have essentially won the main case based on the decisions made last summer. The Judge has clearly stated that I own my comics, and that the other party has infringed on my copyright. It is not over yet, as there are still a few things that need to happen. Hopefully things will all be wrapped up this year. After 6 years of legal battling, I can’t wait to be free of all of this. Hopefully, this second case will backfire, and they will be sanctioned for filing it. But to get to that point requires a frustratingly large amount of work, time and money.

An interesting thing about both of these two specific instances is that they involve creators who had entire bodies of work produced around the specific IPs that were stolen from them before they even began partnering with corporate entities to produce works. which is insane! you can spend years writing novels, drawing comics, and if a company comes in with enough lawyers they can own those ideas.

this is pretty distinctly different to me than instances of work you do while being employed by a corporate entity being owned by that corporate entity, because at least you know what you're getting into there to some degree, but i still think that's bad too. consider stuff like the owl house and gravity falls, two disney shows made by people who very very clearly did not like working for disney. disney owns their ideas, their characters, their worlds, because that's the price you pay for having an animated show produced.

essentially it's very very clear upon even the slightest examination that intellectual property in no way exists to codify who the creator responsible for specific creative concepts or works is. it exists to turn nebulous things like 'ideas' into market commodities, and to funnel the profits made by the labor of individual artists and writers into corporate bank accounts.

the only person who has ever really benefited from IP law as an individual trying to lay claim to their own work is ken penders, who notoriously won his suit to have ownership of characters and storylines he created. heartbreaking: Worst Person You Know Gets An Unequivocally Deserved Legal W.

The comics continued under Flynn’s direction as if nothing happened, but things started looking grim in late 2012, when Archie suddenly fired its entire legal team. The company had been unable to produce Penders’ work-for-hire contract, which would have given control of his creations to Sega. Penders claimed the contract had never existed. A heavily circulated Tumblr post outlining the case (which has been corroborated as a reliable source by Penders) explains that while Archie did provide a photocopy of a contract allegedly signed by Penders in 1996, Penders claimed that the document was a forgery. That it was neither an original copy nor a contract from the beginning of the writer’s tenure at Archie meant that its validity was questionable. Making things worse, Archie couldn’t produce an original copy of any previous contributor’s contract, meaning that any writer or artist who had worked on the Archie Sonic line could potentially follow in Penders’s footsteps and reclaim their work. “So are you saying prior counsel blew it?” the presiding judge asked Archie counsel Joshua Paul in a May 2013 court session. His reply was unequivocal: “Absolutely, your Honor.”

So yeah. Owning the work you do as an artist is only something that happens when the people trying to profit off of it show unprecedented and staggering level of incompetence in their legal teams.

Then, alongside not owning the concepts and ideas you produce while working with corporate entities, there's the issue of NDA regarding specific pieces you've produced. This causes a LOT of trouble for freelance illustrators/character designers/concept artists, etc. Looking for work is very hard when the past three years of pieces you've drawn can't be added to your portfolio. Some people have password protected pages on their portfolios that they use for NDA work, but I believe the right to do this varies depending on your contract. I'm not 100% sure. In cases where the project you worked on eventually comes out, that's one thing, but there will be instances where the entire project gets canned after all the work is done, but is still under NDA so essentially all of your work has been taken from you, crumpled up into a ball by a studio executive, thrown in the trash can, and legally you are not allowed to go pick it out of the bin and try and flatten it out again.

This has all been pretty art-focused because that's the kind of circles I run in and where a lot of my interests lie but the truth is none of this is even remotely close to as evil IP law gets. I've saved the most egregious for last: The Lakota Language Consortium

The Lakota Language Consortium had promised to preserve the tribe’s native language and had spent years gathering recordings of elders, including Taken Alive’s grandmother, to create a new, standardized Lakota dictionary and textbooks. But when Taken Alive, 35, asked for copies, he was shocked to learn that the consortium, run by a white man, had copyrighted the language materials, which were based on generations of Lakota tradition. The traditional knowledge gathered from the tribe was now being sold back to it in the form of textbooks.

When you're in defense of IP law, this is what you're siding with. This is the rational endpoint of IP and it is neither a fluke nor an example of the concept being twisted against its original design. Art, culture, language, it belongs to whoever is most capable of turning it into a product. The economic incentives of producing and distributing arts and culture demand this is how things be.

Meya says his work is a vital tool in preserving the Lakota language, which did not previously have a standardized written form. He estimated that there are fewer than 1,500 fluent Lakota speakers left and that over the last decade and a half, the organization has helped add 50 to 100 more. “Just because money is involved in it does not inherently make it an evil thing,” Meya said in a recent interview with NBC News. Most of the products his organizations make are free, he said, but the cost of printing textbooks has to come from somewhere. “That tends to be sometimes part of the rhetoric, ‘Oh, there’s money involved. It must be, you know, part of the overall colonization effort.’ Well, you know, that’s just not realistic.”

Artists looking to force their way into the class of people who gets protected by these laws are not looking out for their community. They are not protecting anything but their own perceived financial interests. Intellectual property will never, ever benefit the most marginalized members of creative communities and anyone who tries to convince you otherwise is huffing some serious copium.

Frankly, I don't believe anyone can or should 'own' things like Ideas or Specific Aesthetic Flairs. But even if you do believe in that, IP law isn't the framework for handling it.

#long post #i guess i should tag this so i can find it again if i ever get asked something else like this #ip law #intellectual property

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bower-quinn · 3 months ago

Text

My sweet summerchild

"You and Eddie have been best friends for years, and nothing and no one can tear you apart. But somehow, something has changed. [cw: vomiting] [fluffy, feelings, friends to lovers]"

Chapter 1: The Secret

It’s a Friday like any other in rainy Hawkins. The day drags on like chewing gum, but Eddie Munson knows that the wait will be worth it. Every Friday afternoon, when the bell rings for the last period, Eddie, Steve, Dustin, Robin, and you gather in the old, dusty clubroom of the school, which serves as the headquarters for the Hellfire Club. Here, amid the smell of old books and the flickering light of candles, you dive into the world of Dungeons & Dragons, where heroes and monsters collide and imagination knows no bounds. The latest campaign isn’t going as smoothly as Eddie would like, since Steve, the newcomer to the group, has absolutely no idea what he’s supposed to do.

„So, can I decapitate the ogre with my sword now?” he asks, and almost everyone groans in annoyance. Except for you, you just laugh softly and respond with angelic patience, „I have the sword, Steve; you have a broad axe.”

„So I decapitate him with my broad axe!”

More groans.

„Harrington,” Eddie leans forward and stares intensely at his best friend, „if you say ‘decapitate’ one more time, I’ll kick you out of the campaign.”

Steve looks him straight in the eye.

„Decapitate.”

„This kid is driving me crazy,” Eddie sighs and sinks back into his chair.

„Just roll for how much damage your initial attack does!” you suggest, pointing to Steve’s dice.

„My sweet summerchild has much more patience with you than is warranted,” Eddie grumbles. The way he says your nickname makes everything inside you melt.

Steve picks up a die, rolls it, and stares at it for a long time.

„And? Did you roll a one?” Dustin asks, clenching his teeth.

„A twenty!” Steve looks around the table, „is that good?”

„That can’t be true!” Eddie jumps up, stands behind Steve, and stares at the dice.

„The bastard actually rolled a dirty twenty!”

„Who’s the bastard here?” Steve mumbles, but Eddie just chuckles and winks at you.

Those stupid butterflies that have been fluttering around lately are flapping around in a panic. You don’t know exactly when it happened, but recently you’ve felt your feelings for Eddie change. You’ve been friends for what feels like centuries. Best friends, even. Just for that reason, you would never dare to bring up these feelings. Sure, you and Eddie talk about everything—except the fact that you suddenly find his lips attractive. That would ruin everything.

„Well,” Eddie says loudly, pulling you out of your thoughts, „Sir Harrington raises his broad axe with a shout, hurls it at the ogre, AND,” he makes a dramatic pause, „hits it right between the eyes.”

You all cheer, and Steve looks prouder than he wants to admit.

„Robin,” Eddie points to her, „what are you doing?”

„My sorceress casts Fireball!” she rolls, „a six.”

„Although a lot of flames go astray,” Eddie says, „you still burn the ogre pretty well. He dies before he hits the ground.”

„FINALLY!” Dustin roars.

„Kamala approaches the ogre,” you say softly, and Dustin falls silent, „she pulls out a bottle of holy water and anoints the ogre’s head. She says a small prayer for his soul and then returns Sir Harrington his sword.”

„Heaven,” Dustin says, „it’s an ogre!”

„Every creature deserves an anointing!” you say, and the sparkle in your eyes makes Eddie smile. What you don’t know is that he had to keep himself from staring at you throughout the session. How the candlelight reflects in your hair, how you laugh at his jokes, how you patiently explain everything to Steve. All of it nearly drives him to despair. He yearns so strongly for you. For your physical and emotional closeness. He’s never wanted anything more. But for the sake of your friendship, he does nothing in that direction. Everything remains in his imagination.

„I think,” he says, looking away from you, „that’s enough for today.”

„But it’s only been two hours!” Dustin sighs in disappointment.

„Already two hours!” Robin exclaims in surprise, „Heaven, no wonder it smells like farts in here.”

„That was Dustin,” Steve says, and Eddie chuckles as Dustin makes a horrified face.

You look at your watch and realize Eddie is right.

„Shit, I have to go!,” you say, grabbing your bag, „I promised to be home on time. Otherwise, I’ll get a broad axe to the forehead.”

Eddie stands up, spreads his arms, waiting for a goodbye hug, but you just wave quickly and disappear. Eddie stands there with his arms raised like an idiot.

„She’s gone,” Dustin says, and Eddie’s head snaps toward him.

„Oh, shut up, dumbass.”

„I’m just saying,” he shrugs, „you can put your arms down.”

„Seriously,” Steve says quietly as he gathers the figures, „you’re acting like a little kid.”

„Do you have something to say, Harrington?” Steve asks.

He just shakes his head. Robin looks at him and rolls her eyes.

„I thought you were going to talk to him!”

„Not now,” Steve hisses back.

„About what?”

Eddie crosses his arms in front of his chest and stares at his friends.

„About,” Steve says, „how you’ve been in love with [y/n] for months.”

Eddie bursts out laughing, but his friends can tell it’s a fake laugh.

„Me? In love? Nonsense.”

„Seriously?” Dustin looks at Steve, „do you mean that?”

„Yes?” Steve looks at him confused, „I thought even you, dimwit, would have figured that out by now!”

„No?”

„Hello!” Eddie waves his hands to get their attention again, „She’s my best friend! Nothing more! I don’t know where you guys get the audacity—”

Steve, Robin, and Dustin look at Eddie but say nothing.

„Okay, fine,” his feigned indignation collapses, „I’ll admit it. How long have you known?”

„Six months,” Robin says.

„Five months,” Steve says.

„I told him,” Robin says, and Steve nods.

„Eh, and why didn’t you tell me?” Dustin asks Robin.

„Because,” Steve answers instead, „you’re just an immature kid.”

„Let me remind you,” Dustin glares at both of them, „that unlike you two, I have a girlfriend.”

Robin looks at Steve.

„There’s something to that.”

„I really hate to interrupt your coffee clatch,” Eddie says in a deep voice, „but this isn’t about you.”

„When is it ever,” Steve mutters.

„You have to swear to me,” Eddie points his finger at each of his friends, „that you won’t say a word about this. Swear it, or I’ll haunt you in your dreams!”

„What a terrible thought,” Robin murmurs, „but I and the two fart-heads here swear it!”

Eddie nods curtly and tries to hide his red face behind his curls. Apparently, he isn’t as mysterious as he always thought he was.

Chapter 2: A New Hope

You notice that Eddie is unusually nervous in the following days. Whenever you touch him, he flinches and laughs oddly. Even your hugs seem to be avoided, kept to a minimum. Even these small touches on your arm have been turned off.

Maybe, you think in fear, he’s realized that you have feelings for him. It’s uncomfortable for him, so he’s keeping his distance. That’s the only explanation that makes sense to you. Shit, you think, when did he figure it out?

It’s infinitely embarrassing for you because the tiny hope that he might feel the same has now died. Dead, buried, and decayed.

You try to act normally around him, not showing any signs of your feelings. But every smile, every word, even when he just says your name, makes something inside you wither.

Steve, Robin, and now Dustin watch Eddie as he helplessly tries to flirt with you without actually flirting with you. More than once, Robin has to kick Steve hard in the shin to keep him quiet. But you don’t notice. You’re too absorbed in your own confusing feelings and thoughts.

When Eddie laughs a little too loudly at one of your jokes and then accidentally spills his peas, Dustin whispers to Steve, „Does she really not notice?”

Steve shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

„You didn’t notice either.”

„I just thought Eddie was acting weird.”

„Hey, you idiots,” Robin hisses angrily, „can you talk any louder?”

„Someone has to tell her!”

„Over my dead body!”

Eddie, you, and Robin look at Steve, who is staring at Dustin. Apparently, he hasn’t noticed that he’s speaking loudly.

„Is there a problem?” Eddie asks with a threatening tone, giving the two of them a meaningful look.

„No,” Steve says, still staring at Dustin, „Dustin just realized that his D&D character has the gift of silence.”

„Hm,” Dustin says and looks at his food.

Everything seems strange to you. Your friends constantly whisper and stop immediately when you approach. Your heart grows cold. Do they all know about your crush? Are they all making fun of you behind your back? Sadly, you look down at your food, not noticing how longingly Eddie is looking at you. When Steve sees Eddie’s gaze, he rolls his eyes and opens his mouth, but Robin kicks him painfully in the shin again.

Even days later, Dustin finds it hard to keep Eddie's secret. Although the others don’t believe he’s capable, he has a strong intuition. He senses that something is different about you. That you seem sad, more closed off, and thoughtful. Even though he can’t be sure, he suspects it has something to do with Eddie’s behavior toward you.

The others, especially Eddie, don’t notice it. Eddie is far too busy acting like the biggest idiot on the planet in your presence. The more you pull away, the louder he becomes. What a fool.

It makes Dustin thoughtful, and he wishes he could do something to change the situation but doesn’t know what.

„Ouch,” he says as he bumps into you after school.

„Oh, I’m sorry,” you immediately reply, „I didn’t see you!”

„I was lost in thought,” Dustin apologizes.

„So was I,” you respond.

„What were you thinking about?”

A quiet sigh escapes your lips.

„Oh, just complicated stuff. You know, feelings.”

Dustin takes your hand and leads you to a bench in front of the school building.

„I’m pretty sharp,” he says, his grin disarming, „and I know a thing or two about complicated. Wait, you look different than usual.”

You smile slightly, feeling a gentle blush creep onto your cheeks.Top of FormBottom of Form

„You look nice,” he comments.

„Thanks, I hope he likes it too.”

„He?” Dustin’s eyes widen. „You have a date? With whom?”

„With Jason,” you answer.

„Jason,” he repeats tonelessly.

„Jason,” you roll your eyes, „you know, tall, blonde, basketball player.”

„Basketball player,” Dustin repeats again tonelessly.

„Dustin, are you okay?” you ask, noticing how pale he’s become.

„Not okay,” he says. What you don’t know is that he’s already stopped listening to you. In his mind, he sees Eddie’s sad face.

„Should I walk you home?”

Your concerned tone snaps him out of his thoughts.

„No,” he laughs awkwardly, „it’s fine, just a shock that you have a date.”

When you raise your eyebrows in offense, he adds, „A date with Jason, I mean. I didn’t know you were into guys like that.”

„I’m not,” you sigh softly, „but I have to move on, you know?”

Dustin blinks in surprise. „Move on? What do you mean?”

„Well, you know,” you groan in frustration, „when you’re into someone who isn’t into you. You have to move on.”

„So,” Dustin asks hesitantly, „are you into someone else?”

„That’s right, Sherlock,” you grin, but Dustin immediately sees the sadness in your eyes.

„And who is it?”

His inquiry is so sincere and non-intrusive that it makes you laugh.

„That’s private!”

„Come on!” he wiggles his eyebrows, „if it’s Steve—”

„Oh my God,” you almost scream with laughter, „Harrington? Jesus, he takes longer in the bathroom than I do!”

„Then who is it?”

Your laughter dies down and you look at Dustin. Actually, if you’re moving on anyway.

„Okay,” you clear your throat and lower your voice, „it’s Eddie.”

„Eddie,” the toneless repetition again.

„Yes, Eddie. You know him. Dark curls, dark eyes, makes us suffer in DnD.”

„So,” Dustin summarizes, „you’re going out with this dimwit Jason because you’re actually in love with Eddie.”

Hearing it put that way makes you blush.

„Yes. He clearly isn’t interested, and I can’t keep running after him. But,” you look at him seriously, „you have to swear you won’t tell anyone.”

„But—” he starts, but you interrupt him.

„Swear on Suzie’s life.”

„I swear,” he says curtly. He wrestles with himself about whether to tell you about Eddie’s feelings. But he too has promised not to say anything.

„But—” Dustin starts again, but he doesn’t know how to continue without revealing Eddie’s secret. „Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean—what if—what if Eddie does have feelings for you?”

You laugh softly, but it’s a sad laugh.

„Dustin, Eddie is—well, Eddie. He’s my best friend, and I’m sure that’s all we’ll ever be. And that’s okay. I don’t want to risk our friendship.”

Dustin wants to argue, wants to tell you that you’re wrong, but he knows he promised Eddie to keep his secret. But now the situation is more serious than he ever expected.

„I know you think you’re doing the right thing, but—”

You interrupt him with a gentle smile.

„It’s okay, Dustin. Really. I appreciate your concern, but I need to do this. Maybe it will help me gain a bit of clarity.”

You check your watch.

„Sorry, I have to go. Jason and I are meeting in half an hour in front of the movie theater. See you then.”

You stand up and walk away, not seeing how Dustin watches you go and then starts running.

Chapter 3: Run Boy Run

Dustin isn’t running for his life, but for the happiness of his friends. Eddie’s trailer isn’t far, but far enough to push the not-so-athletic Dustin to his limits. Over and over, his body cries out for a break, but he keeps running.Eddie has to know… he has to know now… Dustin repeats in his head as he races through the streets of Hawkins. When he sees the rundown trailer in the distance, he speeds up even more. He can’t let you end up in someone else’s arms when Eddie loves you.With stitches in his side and a painful chest, he finally arrives at Eddie’s place.

„Eddie!” he pounds frantically on the trailer, „For heaven’s sake, Eddie!”

Eddie opens the door with a cigarette in his mouth.

„Jesus, Henderson,” he says, looking at him, „are you okay?”

„No,” Dustin gasps, clutching his chest, „but… that’s… irrelevant.”

He gasps for breath, leaning on his knees.

„Kid,” Eddie comes outside and stares at Dustin, „do you want a drink?”

„NO!” Dustin shouts, having to cough once.„It’s… about… [y/n],” the coughing turns into gagging.

„Is something wrong?” Eddie grabs Dustin’s shoulders in a panic, „Is she hurt?”

„No… date.”

„She has a date?” Eddie asks wearily, releasing Dustin, then grins maniacally, „Good for her. With whom?”

„Jason,” Dustin gasps.

„JASON!” Eddie yells and bursts into loud laughter. If Dustin weren’t on the verge of passing out, he might feel fear. „That’s wonderful! Jason is gorgeous and everyone loves him!”

He slams his fist against the trailer with full force.

„Jason,“ he repeats. His voice is deep, almost a growl, and his eyes are dark with anger.

„Eddie,” Dustin gasps, turning left once and vomiting loudly.

„Heaven, Henderson!” Eddie’s manic state is shattered by the vomiting. „That’s disgusting.”

„That doesn’t matter right now!” Dustin turns back to Eddie and stares at him.

„Listen to me, Eddie. You have to go there and stop it!”

„Why should I?” a sad expression crosses Eddie’s face. „She obviously knows what she wants. And it’s not me.”

„Eddie,” he grabs his friend by the shoulders, „listen to me carefully. You need to run there now. You have to!”

He tries to burn the information into Eddie’s brain without speaking the entrusted secret. He would never put Suzie’s life at risk.

„Dustin,” Eddie starts again, but Dustin interrupts him through clenched teeth.

„Eddie, I know you’re not the brightest bulb in the lamp, but please, for God’s sake, JESUS, Eddie. I’m trying to tell you something, put two and two together.”

You can clearly read in Eddie’s face how his brain is ticking. And then it seems to click.

Without another word, Eddie wriggles out of Dustin’s grip and takes off running.

„You have to go to the theater!” Dustin shouts after him, and Eddie gives a thumbs-up over his shoulder.

Dustin laughs loudly, cheers, and watches until Eddie’s figure disappears on the horizon. Slowly, with a sore hip, Dustin makes his way home.

Eddie runs. Faster than Dustin, and it feels to him as if he is actually running for his life.

You stand at the movie theater, looking around and waiting for Jason. By now, he’s five minutes late and you wonder if he will even show up. But then you see a figure running towards you in the distance. You raise your hand and smile slightly. Strange, you think, it almost looks like Eddie. The wild, flailing hair and the strange way of running, a bit like a duck. And then you see that it is indeed Eddie.

„Eddie!” you call out in surprise as he reaches you. „What are you doing here?”

„Henderson,” he gasps, „said—”

„WHAT did that little stinker say,” you snap, „Eddie, everything he said—”

He interrupts you by placing his hands on your face and gently kissing you. You feel his rapid breath, but yours is just as fast. And you haven’t even been running.

He moves his lips softly against yours, and your hands find their way to his neck, playing with the curls there. When he pulls away from the kiss, you stare at him dazed.

„If Henderson lied, I’ll kill him,” Eddie murmurs.

„Who’s Henderson?” you ask. Your mind has no room for any more thoughts. It is completely occupied with Eddie’s eyes, his lips, his scent.

„Small, curly hair, very good at keeping secrets,” Eddie smiles lovingly at you, „so he didn’t tell you anything?”

„Telling me what?” you ask.

Eddie grins wider and kisses you again. You don’t even notice that Jason has stood you up. You’ve completely forgotten about the movie theater. The evening will end in Eddie’s trailer.

#Eddie Munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #Eddie Munson fic #Stranger things #dustin henderson #steve harrington

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livwritesstuff · 9 months ago

Note

So you know how parents always have that *one* story about a time where their kid scared them beyond this universe — like their kid could be a daredevil and constantly trying their patience but this particular story is the most harrowing, scariest situation they’ve been in. (This may not be universal but I’m hoping I’m explaining it right lol)

What do you think would be Steve and Ed’s stories for each of the girls?

tw: hospitals, illness, car accidents, in general proceed w/caution if sensitive to children sustaining injuries/illnesses

When Moe was about six months old, she got sick – really sick, hospital-trip sick. All Steve really remembers is that one minute her appetite wasn’t what it usually was, and the next her temperature had spiked to 104 and something about her breathing was not normal and they were on their way to the ER.

They'd ended up staying for three days, Steve didn't sleep the entire time, and because it was before Moe's adoption was finalized, they had all kinds of DFS paperwork to fill out in addition to the mountain of documents the hospital had given them. Steve remembers having to coordinate with Ed dropping everything off at the DFS office and thinking for the first time ever in their years of fostering kids how stupid it was that he was expected to focus on following DFS procedure instead of being there for his baby girl.

The scariest moment with Hazel was the time they lost her.

They’d been at the New England Aquarium with all three girls on a Saturday afternoon – ridiculous, in both Steve and Eddie's opinion, and honestly they weren't even able to enjoy outings like these because they’re still in the stage where they spend the entire time anxiously keeping track of the girls (who were having the time of their lives, obviously – that's why they're suffering through it).

So when Steve did a headcount like he usually does every so often and came up with two, his heart flipped over. He checked again, and again only counted two.

Triple-checks. Two.

In real-time, they hadn't lost sight of Hazel for more than ten seconds, but it was the longest ten seconds Steve had ever lived by a mile, and he’d spent the whole time thinking that it had to be the worst-case for a situation like this because it was Hazel. If Moe or Robbie got separated from them, they would have no problem marching up to the first person in an NEA shirt they could find and demanding help finding their dads. Hazel, though, is quiet and shy and usually stuck to them like glue. She won’t talk to strangers in the best of moments, so there was no chance she’d find it in herself to try during a bad one.

Turns out, Hazel had been so mesmerized by the jellyfish that even after they all moved on to the next display, Hazel just had to turn back to get one more look, and Eddie had his head screwed on tight enough that day to think of checking there first.

Later, Steve reneged on their plan to take the girls to Boston Pride (which would have been in a few weeks) because it had been scary enough losing track of Hazel in an enclosed space where there were only so many places she could wander off to. The idea of it happening in the dead center of the city, with all those crowds of people, with infinite directions for her to go…no chance. They’d try again next year.

Between all three girls, the scariest moment by goddamn lightyears was Robbie.

When Robbie was fifteen – a high school freshman but placed in the senior-level band class – the school took their music classes (band, orchestra, chorus) to Disney World for the performing arts workshops they offer in the spring.

The student-adult ratio on trips like these is pretty terrible and, in Steve's opinion, there is too much unsupervised independent time for a group of high school students.

Way too much.

A few days into the trip, one kid – a senior with a fake ID who Robbie was friends with through band – managed to commandeer a car and convince a group of kids to blow off curfew and secretly explore the city.

Three hours and half a liquor-store’s worth of alcohol later, Steve got a call from one of the chaperones telling him that his fifteen-year-old was unresponsive in a hospital in Florida.

Planning their last family vacation had taken three entire months of planning and indecision and research.

It took less than five minutes for Steve to get flights booked for the next plane bound for Orlando.

“Maybe if she hadn’t gone on the trip in the first place…” Moe trailed off innocently as she watched her dads pack – she's anything but innocent though. Moe had been pissed to all hell that Robbie got to go to Disney World and she didn’t. She’d spent weeks trying to weasel her way onto the trip to no avail, and she’d been sulking the entire four days Robbie had been gone.

“Not another word,” Eddie warned her, his tone icier than perhaps he’s ever heard directed at one of his kids. Moe opens her mouth to retort, but he cuts her off, "So fuckin' serious, Moe. Not the time."

Robbie had been in pretty rough shape when they finally arrived which was horrible to see – especially for Steve, who had always connected the way Robbie was similar to Eddie with the way Eddie almost died, so seeing her unconscious in a hospital bed, light brown curls strewn out over the sterile-white sheets and tangled amongst all kinds of tubes and wires was pretty much a nightmare come to life.

He was actually thankful for Eddie’s threats to find the idiot driving the car and murder him because he seemed pretty serious about it and making sure he didn't do that gave Steve something to focus on other than counting the hours Robbie had been in the hospital all alone.

#not a happy one folks #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson #tw: illness #tw: car accident #tw: hospital

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fortheloveofwonderland · 7 months ago

Text

Rusty | Chapter 13 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary - Luke finds himself getting acquainted with one of Bandera’s own. When you find a bundle of gifts on Spencer’s front porch, you hatch a plan.

A/N - this chapter kinda came out of left field but I couldn’t leave Luke heart broken so this happened. There are some Spencer x reader snippets but this chapter is very Luke-centric.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - drinking, hangovers, allusions to sex, hints of oral (m receiving), one night stands, needy Spencer, whiny Spencer, swearing, titty sucking, handjob, fingering, ending of this one is pretty angsty.

WC - 6k

Chapter 13 - Friends in Low Places

Luke Alvez was a man of few words, but no fewer were ever spoken from his mouth than that morning as he sat in the little corner booth in Bandera’s lone cafe.

Between sips of bitter coffee from the chipped mug nothing but awkward silence petered around them. Luke couldn’t even bring himself to make eye contact with the other person opposite him. Instead his gaze flitted between his mug and the old clock on the wall, whilst he wondered how long it was polite of him to stay.

His temples throbbed and the coffee didn’t go anyway to stem the taste of that goddamn home brewed whiskey on his tongue.

To say he’d made an error in judgement last night was underselling his stupidity.

Images of the night before flashed in his mind's eyes like a broken movie reel. After leaving Spencer’s lodge he’d needed to take the edge off and found himself in the 11th Street Bar.

The old bar keep had plied him with his homemade whiskey which was quite possibly the strongest substance that had ever passed by Luke’s lips.

It didn’t stop him drinking it, shot after shot, until he was bleary eyed and stumbling on his feet.

When he’d stepped out into the cool night air he’d almost fallen down the high curb, would have landed right on his face if it wasn’t for a strong set of arms steadying him.

“Whoa there partner, careful as ya go.” The voice belonging to the man who caught him laughed.

“Oh Jesus, I’m so sorry. I, uh, probably overdid it a little.”

“No kidding, Cole’s home brew’ll do that.”

There was something alluring about the tall, broad cowboy. Perhaps it was the alcohol in his system. Possibly it was because he was painfully lonely and his heart had taken a beating upon finding out Spencer had moved on.

Whatever it was, it led to him happily going home with the man. He knew, even in his drunken state, that it was a bad idea. He knew using some stranger for sex would not make him feel better in the way he wanted.

Yet he did it anyway.

“You ain’t from around here, are ya?” The man asked him, smiling at Luke.

“Is it that obvious?” Luke chuckled.

“I just never forget a handsome face, is all.”

“Oh.” Luke rubbed his neck. “Oh.”

“What’s ya name?” The man proffered a large hand for which Luke shook.

“L-Luke.”

“Mighty strong name, Luke.” He held onto Luke’s hand slightly longer than a normal hand shake. “I’m Grant, it's nice to meet you.”

Grant, as it turned out, lived very close to the bar. Closer than the hotel Luke planned on staying at and insisted it wasn’t a bother for Luke to stay the night. Honestly Luke was a little lost in Grant’s eyes at this point and probably would have agreed to anything.

Grant offered him a strong mug of coffee upon arrival at his ranch. He wasn’t sure what kind of magic it was sprinkled with but it did seem to help him sober up. But maybe not sober enough.

It was Luke who had made the first move. It had been uncoordinated and unplanned. One minute Grant was talking and the next Luke practically flung himself forward on the couch and kissed him.

“Whoa there cowboy,” Grant chuckled lightly, guiding Luke back by his shoulders. “You sure you’re sober enough to be making these kinds of decisions?”

“I know what I’m doing.” Luke spoke, surprisingly coherently. “I know that I want this.”

And at the time he’d meant it, he did want this. He didn’t realise how he would come to regret it later. But Luke had been unintentionally celibate for too long, not quite getting over the hump of his first time post-Spencer.

Maybe if he could allow himself to take that step, healing his broken heart might not be so difficult.

He couldn’t deny even now in the morning light that it had been an amazing night. Grant was unfathomably good in bed, with his hands, with his mouth. Luke had so many orgasms he still felt a little overstimulated this morning.

It probably didn’t help matters that he’d hurriedly agreed to a shared shower this morning in which Grant awarded him release two more times whilst on his knees.

He hadn’t thought of Spencer last night, but he had however succumbed to thoughts of him this morning. Whilst Grant fellated him in the shower, twice, Luke couldn’t help the way his mind raced over a similar scenario years ago, right before Spencer's arrest, before performing such acts became impossible for him.

Luke didn’t know why Grant had insisted on taking him for coffee this morning but now here they were, in awkward silence whilst they both tried to get out of this situation unscathed.

“I, uh,” Luke cleared his throat. “Last night was fun but I’m heading back to DC later today.”

“Wasn’t expecting nothin’ from ya.” Grant chuckled. “I know a one night stand when I see one. Just doing the polite thing, taking you for breakfast.”

“Right,” Luke nodded, gripping his mug. “I’m sorry, I don’t do this very often.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Grant smirked. “It’s fine, don’t you worry about me. I knew that dog weren’t gonna hunt.”

“Right.” Luke frowned as the saying went over his head.

“I gotta split anyway. It was nice to meet you Luke.” Grant slid out from the booth and got to his feet, picking up his stetson and placing it back on top of his head.

“Yeah, uh, you too.” Luke stayed seated, offering a meek smile to the man.

Grant threw a couple of bills down on the table before turning on the heels of his boots. Luke watched him saunter away, open the cafe door and step outside into the sunshine. Once he was alone, Luke fell back against the chair and rubbed his hands over his face at his own stupidity. You don’t fight fire with fire, but that’s exactly what he’d tried to do.

He closed his eyes and sat perfectly still, his hangover coupled with the aches and gripes from an extreme amount of physical activity encompassing his entire body. He didn’t need to be back at Quantico until tomorrow.

Perhaps he’d get a room and sleep for a few hours, maybe try and see Spencer again when he felt less dizzy and catch a late flight back to Virginia tonight. But obviously the universe had other plans as his phone started to ring.

He grumbled and sat back up, freeing the device from his pocket and groaning at her name flashing on the screen. He sucked in a deep breath before answering it and putting it to his ear.

“Hey Garcia,” he tried to hide his lack of sleep from his voice.

“Hey, I’m sorry to have to do this but there have been some developments, you’re needed back at Quantico ASAP.” She did sound sorry, which was surprising coming from her.

“Right, fine.” He didn’t have the energy to argue with her.

“I’m sorry, I know you really wanted to see boy wonder, I wanted you to see him too.” She was pouting, he could hear it over the phone.

He was silent for a moment or two, staring back at the clock on the wall. He sighed deeply and rubbed his eye with his free hand.

“I did see him. Last night. I couldn’t wait until this morning.” He admitted, knowing she would get the information out of him one way or another.

“Ohemgee, Newbie! Way to bury the leash!” She screeched, causing Luke to grimace at the way his head pounded. “How is he? What did you talk about? Is he okay out there all on his own? Gosh I do worry about that boy all alone. He can’t cook, I bet he’s lost weight, has he lost weight? Without my constant force feeding him cookies I bet he’s lost weight.”

He waited for her to exhaust her line of questioning before he spoke again, sounding incredibly sorry for himself.

“He’s…he’s moved on.” Luke grumbled.

“Moved on? He’s not in Bandera anymore?” Garcia sounded confused.

“No, that's not what I meant.” Luke sighed again, not really wanting to have to spell this out. “He’s moved on…with someone else. I found him in bed with a woman.” He was met by a wave of silence and he knew why. “I’m on speaker aren’t I?”

“Uh, yeah.” Penelope sounded a little guilty. You’ve got Jayje and Em here too.”

“A heads up in the future would be nice.” Luke downed the coffee and forced himself to his feet.

“Sorry, Luke.” Emily’s voice carried down the phone as Luke headed towards the door.

“I had no idea he’d met someone.” JJ added.

“Yeah well, I think it’s been a long time since any of us really knew him.” He threw open the door and squinted at the assault of sunlight when he stepped outside.

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear,” Penelope prefaced and Luke held his breath. “And don’t get me wrong, as much as you grate on me Newbie, I do want you to be happy. That being said, is it wrong of me for wanting the same for Reid?”

Luke huffed down the steps of the cafe towards his SUV.

“No, of course it isn’t.” He agreed. “I want him to be happy too. A part of me is glad that he’s not completely on his own here but it doesn’t stop me wishing that he could have found that happiness with me. Is this what closure is like, Prentiss?”

In Penelope’s bat cave, she and JJ looked at Emily with pinched brows, not having been privy to her conversation with Luke at the San Antonio PD.

“Unfortunately so.” Emily ignored them. “It’s probably better that you know rather than always wondering. You might finally be able to close that book now.”

“I’m, uh, I’m just heading to my car, Garcia can you get me on the next flight back to Virginia?” He changed the subject as he unlocked the SUV and slid inside.

“Of course.” She agreed, without her usual flare. “I’ll have the details sent right over.”

“Thanks. Guess I’ll see you all soon.” He sighed once again.

“Alvez, wait a second.” Emily’s voice sounded again.

There was shuffling in which he ascertained she had taken him off of speaker and left the room.

“Yeah Prentiss?”

“I know this is hard, but don’t let this destroy you. I love Spencer just as much as anyone but he is not known for dealing with his problems in a healthy way. Don’t let him break you. You can do better.”

Luke felt tears sting his eyes and he closed them to stop them falling. He leant back against the driver’s seat.

“Thanks, Em. I’ll try.” He mumbled.

“I mean you’re already trying right?” Emily’s voice had a hint of amusement to it. “What was his name?”

Luke’s eyes shot back open and he stared down at his phone in his hand with a deep frown.

“Excuse me?”

“I might have been keeping tabs on you, a part of me didn’t think you’d make it to Reid’s ranch.” She was smiling, he could hear it in her voice. “I checked your GPS coordinates a few times and you never made it to the hotel.”

Luke shook his head as a dry chuckle left his lips. He wasn’t even surprised.

“His name's Grant, I met him at a bar last night.” Luke confessed.

“Hmm, sounds like it could be promising.” Emily was walking, he could hear her footsteps.

“It was a one night stand. And anyway, we live like two thousand miles apart.” He couldn’t help the way he thought that Spencer would know the exact mileage.

“Distance is nothing.” Emily clucked. “You had a good time, yes?”

“Hmm,” Luke nodded, feeling a pleasurable coiling in his stomach when he thought of last night.

“Sometimes when one story ends, another begins.” She mused. “All I’m saying is, would it be the worst thing in the world if you stayed in touch?”

Luke closed his eyes again, picturing the tall, strong cowboy and feeling a shiver pass up his spine. It would not be the worst thing, far from it.

“I gotta go.” He replied. “Got a couple of things I need to take care of before I head back.”

“Okay,” the amusement danced in her tone. “Good luck with that.”

Luke hung up the phone and started the engine. And as if on muscle memory, he started in the direction of Grant’s ranch.

***

You found yourself alone in bed when you woke up the next morning. For a few moments you felt lighter than air. All of your secrets were out in the open, you and Spencer now knew each other on the deepest level. He’d told you he loved you, things were looking up.

But why were you alone?

And then the panic set in. You lept out of bed and hurriedly threw your clothes back on as your heart thundered inside of your chest. Spencer was turning you in. He was on the phone to Luke getting him back here to have you arrested.

You needed to run.

Your panic was thankfully short lived. Upon rushing out of the bedroom you found a breakfast display much like that he’d left on your doorstep a while ago. A bowl of cereal, a fresh mug of lemon and honey tea and a glass of OJ. This one also had a note to accompany it in his near illegible writing.

I didn’t want to wake you because you looked so peaceful. I’ll be up at the field when you’re awake. Take your time, have breakfast, take a shower or have a bath or something. I’ll always be close by.

Oh and by the way, I love you.

Your heart soared inside your chest and a smile stretched across your face as you read the words over and over again in your head. You felt a small pang of guilt of thinking even for a second he would turn his back on you.

You ate the cereal and drank the tea and orange juice before making your way back through to the bathroom. Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirrored cabinet you spotted the distinctive red blotchy bruise on the front of your throat from Spencer’s lip sucking on your flesh. It made a warmth spread throughout your body at the mere thought.

You brushed your fingers over it a few times, slightly light headed by the way he had marked you. Eventually you turned away and stripped back out of your clothes before hopping in the shower, allowing the water to cleanse you the way your confessions last night had.

***

Spencer had awoken early, as was the norm for him, and quietly slipped out of bed so as not to disturb you. He showered and washed his hair, one of the harder tasks when only having the use of one hand, and played all the events of the past twelve hours over in his head.

Having Luke show up here could have been Spencer’s unravelling. If Luke had arrived here prior to Spencer meeting you, the events could have transpired a lot differently.

Despite it all, Spencer did still love Luke, there was no denying that even from himself. Before you, Luke was Spencer’s only real tangible love. Of course there had been Maeve but there was always a distance between them, he was never able to love her up close.

Spencer had loved Luke in all the ways he’d ever heard talked about. It was a story book kind of love, the likes of which Spencer never expected to find. Luke was supposed to be the end of Spencer’s story and even sometimes still he struggled to really comprehend that it was over.

Him showing up here could have been detrimental to Spencer’s mental health. If he hadn’t been for you.

He knew already, in spite of how little time he’d known you, that you were the big love of his life. And Luke somehow knew it too.

“You were the love of my life.”

“I know.”

“But I wasn’t yours.”

For the last two years Spencer hadn’t been able to let himself consider the way in which his departure hurt Luke. He only had the capacity to focus on his own well-being.

Maybe that was selfish of him. He disappeared without a goodbye to anyone, he owed Luke a goodbye at the very least.

But Spencer hadn’t thought about the hurt that would cause, could only reconcile himself with his own need to escape. Seeing Luke made him acutely aware of just how much pain his absence had caused.

“I expected…maybe I hoped that I wasn’t the only one still pining like an idiot.”

In truth Spencer had been pining, just not for Luke. Spencer had been pining for his old life, perhaps to a degree that included his ex boyfriend. He ached to go back to the time before prison, before he made the decision to go to Mexico. He yearned to do it over, to at the very least tell someone of his plans and not try and go it alone.

But if he hadn’t gone to Mexico, hadn’t gotten arrested and suffered at the hands of his inmates driving him to leave his former life behind he wouldn’t have ended up in Bandera. He wouldn’t have had that run in with Rusty which left him injured at the side of the road.

He would never have met you.

Was he really so in love with you that he would go through all that trauma again in another life if it meant it led to you? That didn’t seem like a rabbit hole that needed traversing and so he cast it from his mind.

He finished showering and dressed in clean jeans, a grey t-shirt and threw a black flannel shirt over the top while you slept. He ate a bowl of cereal and drank a mug of tea, took his new meds and left you breakfast on the counter before heading out to the stable.

He took the horses one by one up the field, leaving Rusty for last. He practically had to wrestle her bridle on her as she was still belligerent towards him. She huffed and stomped her hooves aggressively but Spencer was never one to be beaten.

Eventually he managed to get the thing over her head and lead her out to join the others. Once free to roam she was quick to Willow’s side. Since the trip to Medina Lake the two mares had been inseparable. Spencer had no idea what had transpired to make the two horses become friends but he wished Rusty would warm up to him the way she had his steed.

It occurred to him then that he would probably have to give this place up. With you on the run and on Luke’s radar there was no way the two of you could stay here. Perhaps you could take Willow and Rusty, but Franklin and Wilbur and his cattle wouldn’t be able to follow. Maybe he’d ask around town if anyone was looking to acquire more land and animals to go with it.

The thought made him a little wistful. He liked his ranch, he liked this life. It had been alien to him at first but in time it had become so beautifully ordinary. Perhaps the two of you could find another ranch somewhere, start over together somewhere Luke or Phil would never find you.

He swallowed that thought down, not wanting to ruin what could be one of his last days here by getting sentimental. He leaned against the fence and watched the horses as they grazed and interacted with one another.

He would surely miss this little slice of paradise.

***

Luke emerged from Grant’s ranch house little over an hour later, his hangover a long distant memory. As he stepped out onto the large porch, he actually had a smile on his face.

“Can’t lie to ya, I’m plumb grateful you decided to come back up here.” Grant smiled at him in the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of sinfully tight fitting boxers.

Luke felt himself blushing, something he rarely ever did as he took a last look at the strong body leaning against the door jamb.

Grant’s muscles had muscles, every inch of him sculpted to perfection. He wasn’t Luke's usual type, far from it, but there was something so devilishly alluring about the slightly imposing cowboy.

And it didn’t hurt that it was some of the best sex he’d ever had in his life.

“Me too.” Luke confessed, his cheeks burning red.

“Mighty shame you gotta mosey on back up to the city.” Grant smiled a little sadly at him.

“Yeah, it is.” Luke agreed. “I actually came here to ask for your number, maybe? If there’s any chance you’d wanna stay in touch? I know we live really far apart but, uh, I think that I might…quite like you.”

His cheeks were even brighter after his admittance and Grant’s smile grew. He reached out and cupped Luke’s jaw in his hand, drawing him closer so he could kiss him.

“You are one tall drink of ice tea, Luke Alvez.” Grant mumbled against his lips. “And I quite like you too. Gimme ya phone.”

Luke nodded dumbly and pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Grant. Grant was quick to input his number into the device and hand it back to him.

“T-thanks.” Luke stuttered.

“You know I always had a hankering for more than this.” Grant sighed wistfully, casting an open palm across his land. “I was born and raised on this ranch. After my folks died they left this place to me. Never chose this life, it chose me. Always thought I’d get out of the south one day, move to some big city, ya know? New York, LA…maybe even DC. Unless that idea scares ya.”

“Why would it…why would it scare me?” Luke swallowed thickly at the implication.

“You seem like the jumpy sort.” Grant winked at him.

Luke sucked in a really deep breath before slowly exhaling. He briefly checked his watch, he was running out time to make his flight and he still had one more stop to make. But he couldn’t pull himself away.

“I was still processing an old break up. It ended suddenly and I never got any closure. But I think I have now, I think I’m ready to move on.” Luke spoke the words out loud and he truly meant them.

“Well that just makes me wanna slap my mama.” Grant smiled sweetly at him despite Luke’s obvious confusion at his sentiment. “I guess it might be high time for me to reconsider city life. New York, LA…”

“Or DC.” Luke finished him for him.

“Or DC.” Grant nodded, drawing him in for another kiss.

Luke allowed himself another few moments to be swallowed up by this delicious cowboy before he regretfully had to peel himself away before he missed his flight back home. Although in all honesty, he didn’t think that would have been the worst thing in the world.

***

You were finishing your tea at the kitchen counter when you heard footsteps on the gravel outside. You smiled to yourself, turning eagerly in your chair, ready to embrace Spencer upon his arrival.

But it wasn’t Spencer you saw heading towards the lodge.

You quickly slipped off the stool to the floor, scrabbling over to the corner you’d inhabited last night while Spencer and Luke had it out. You pulled your knees to your chest, trembling slightly as Luke Alvez’s heavy footsteps climbed the stairs.

A moment later there was a knock on the door. You held your breath.

Had you gotten Spencer’s affections all wrong? Was he simply placating you, distracting you so he could call Luke back here? It was imminent. Any minute now he would break down that door and slap his cuffs on your wrists before hauling your ass back to prison.

How could you have been so naive?

“Spencer?” Luke’s voice carried through the door as he knocked again. “You here, man?”

You hugged your legs, breathing as shallowly as possible in the hopes he might not realise you were there. If he went looking for Spencer you could quickly make a getaway.

“Look I don’t know if you’re ignoring me or you just don’t wanna talk to me but, uh…” he cleared his throat. “We didn’t forget your birthday. Penelope had a load of gifts FedEx’d out here and she made me promise you’d get them. You know she’d never forgive me if I came home with them. Guess I’ll just leave them here. Happy birthday for Friday.”

You heard a shuffling and soon after the footsteps took to the stairs again. You dared to get to your feet, crouching down below the window and peaking outside.

The back of Luke’s head retreated back towards a dark SUV. You watched as he slipped inside of it and then the engine started. It wasn’t long before he was pulling away.

You frowned to yourself, standing up to your full height. So Spencer hadn’t called him, hadn’t turned you in?

You exhaled a shaky breath and crept to the door. It could have been a trap but you didn’t think it was. Upon opening the door you saw a pile of gifts wrapped with sparkly bows and bright wrapping paper. On top was a stack of cards.

Still frowning, you gathered them all up and carried them to the counter. Varying handwriting adorned the multi coloured envelopes, addressed to the likes of Reid, Boy Wonder, Doc and Spence.

You shook your head. So there was one thing Spencer had kept from you, his birthday.

You made the decision to hide the gifts away, scurrying up to your lodge and stuffing them away in a cupboard.

You wanted to do something nice for Spencer, you owed him after everything he’d done for you. Today was Wednesday, Friday was two days away, you were sure you could come up with something before then. You would just have to work fast to put the wheels into motion.

***

“Remind me again why I can’t come with you?” Spencer’s brows pinched together as he looked up at you with a pout from the couch.

“Is it really such a big deal? I just want to go on my own.” You rolled your eyes. He was so persistent.

You needed to go into town and buy some supplies for the small birthday celebration you were planning for him. Yesterday had been busy with cleaning out the stables and barn and you hadn’t had a second alone to contemplate his birthday. It was now Thursday and you just needed to get away from him for an hour or so, but he was being petulant.

“I don’t like the idea of you going into town on your own.” He grumbled.

“Why, I’ve done it before? And we both know I can handle myself.” You scoffed.

“I…those men at the bar, the way they looked at you…I didn’t like it.” His cheeks flushed red.

You couldn’t help but smile and you sidled closer to him, lowering yourself to sit on his thigh, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Spence, are you jealous?” You smirked at him.

“Yes,” he nodded frantically. “With good reason too, or have you forgotten about making out with Grant?”

“That was different.” You ran your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “You were adamant we were just friends. I’m fairly certain we’re more than that now. I would never cheat on you Spencer, you understand that right?”

“Hmm,” he hummed at the feeling of your fingers in his hair. “Might need a little convincing.”

You chuckled at his whiny words, his lips pouting, desperate to feel yours on his. You relented and offered him a chaste kiss before pulling back.

“That’s your lot.” You went to stand but suddenly Spencer’s hand was round your waist, holding you down.

“No, no. Not enough. Not convinced.” He clung to you.

“Is someone a needy boy today?” You laughed, giving him another soft kiss.

“Hmm,” he nodded. “So needy.”

You allowed him another kiss and this time his hand flew to the back of your head to keep you close. His tongue was parting your lips within a matter of seconds. You couldn’t pull yourself away even if you wanted to, the ferocity of the kiss rendering you instantly dumb.

He pulled you properly into his lap so you were straddling his thighs, before his good hand disappeared under your shirt and his fingers brushed across the skin of your back.

“Spencer,” you mumbled into his lips. “I need to go out.”

“You don’t need to go anywhere. What you need to do is get rid of some of these clothes.”

“Spencer,” your tone was warning.

“Whatever you so desperately need to go out for can wait, surely?” His fingers toyed with your bra clasp beneath your shirt.

“If you hadn’t been so tired last night and fallen asleep before I’d even brushed my teeth, you could have gotten some then.” You pulled back from his lips and poked the tip of his nose with your index finger.

“Are you really going to turn me down? When I could freak out at any second, you have to take these good moments when they come, Y/N.” He allowed himself to joke, joking helped him cope.

Your eyes flit down towards his crotch and the bulge in his slacks. The sight was enough for you to shudder and he knew he had you.

You cupped his jaw in your hand, rubbing your fingers into his ever growing stubble. He looked at you through large doe eyes.

“You are so needy today.” You clucked. “What has gotten into you?”

“I have no idea.” Spencer shook his head. “But can we just go with it?”

“What exactly do you want, Doctor Reid?” You cocked an eyebrow at him and he hissed.

“Fuck, it’s so hot when you say that.” He pulled you back to kiss you again. “T-touch me? P-please?”

You moaned into his mouth and grinded against his lap. Your hands wandered down the fabric of his t-shirt until you came to the hem.

He sat forward so you could lift it over his head, tossing it aside before you helped him remove your own. His fingers were soon back on your bra clasp and he popped it open expertly, practically ripping the garment from your body.

You sat back, looking at him with a smile. His eyes were unashamedly on your chest.

“Don’t just stare, Doctor.” You scoffed, reaching into his lap and palming him through his slacks.

He bucked into your hand with a growl at the same time as he bowed his head, hurriedly taking your nipple into his mouth.

You closed your eyes as his tongue lapped over your hardened nipple. You stroked him through his pants whilst working the button.

Once you had them open you reached straight into his boxers and tugged his shaft free of its confines. He hissed again, teeth grazing against your nipple.

He sat back as you started to stroke him, returning the favour and starting to unbutton your own pants. Much like you he didn’t bother removing them and instead dove his hand straight inside your panties.

You fisted his shaft at the sensation of his finger brushing over your clit. You kept your eyes on each other firmly.

“God I love you,” he panted, rolling his hips into your hand.

“I love you too, Doctor.” You moaned the last word as he pressed against your swollen bud. “And fuck I love those fingers.”

“I feel the same about your hand.” He nodded.

A second finger joined his first, using them both in tandem to rub circles on your clit. You puffed out a heavy breath, causing your breasts to bounce and Spencer’s gaze faltered to them.

“Good god I missed boobs. You have no idea. I am such a boob man.” He was leaning closer again and taking your nipple in his mouth once more.

You moaned and started to increase your speed on his cock, his own fingers working their magic between your legs.

You rocked back and forth on his hand whilst he similarly bucked into your own. He was frantically sucking your nipple, intent on bringing you as much pleasure as physically possible.

It really didn’t take either of you long to orgasm. Somehow the two of you knew each other's bodies so well already that it was such a simple thing for you both to bring the other to your peaks.

Spencer succumbed first, still suckling on your nipple when he came with a loud groan and bucked into your hand. You felt his come spilling over your hand and probably over his pants too.

The feeling of his hot seed on your skin and the way he writhed beneath you as you continued leisurely stroking him tipped you over the edge soon after and you shuddered on top of him while your head fell to your chest.

You collapsed on him, both of you panting loudly and fitfully. He wrapped his arm around you and kissed the top of your head.

“See?” He panted. “Wasn’t that so much better than whatever you were going to do?”

“I’m still going out.” You mumbled into the skin of his sweat slicked chest. “Just as soon as I can get my legs to cooperate.”

It was another five minutes before you were able to move and while you redressed and cleaned yourself up, Spencer went back to pouting at you in his disdain for you leaving him alone.

“You were alone for a long time before I came along, you’ll be fine for an hour. You’re a big tough cowboy, remember.” You chuckled, placing a kiss on his lips before heading to the door.

“I still don’t understand why I can’t come with you.” He grumbled.

“Because I don’t need a chaperone.” You rolled your eyes. “Read a book or something, time will fly by.”

He continued to sulk as you headed for the door and swung it open, before closing it behind yourself. Seconds after you left, Spencer started to spiral. The guilt came in waves, thick and fast. His come was still sticky on his stomach, in his pants. He felt sick out of nowhere.

The thing he felt the most ashamed about was the fact he hadn’t felt ashamed until during the act. He felt guilty for not feeling guilty.

He allowed himself to forget what had happened to him. How could he ever forget? And just like that he was crumbling, tumbling down into an ether he knew all too well.

He embraced it, didn’t try to tether himself, didn’t bother to stop the inevitable. He deserved this, he deserved to suffer for letting himself feel an ounce of happiness.

He wasn’t going to fight it, so instead he let it happen. The anger swelling in his chest, the blurring of his vision. He was ready for it. A part of him welcomed it.

So he fell into the fringes of reality, no longer in control of his own fucked up mind. Divorce the body from the brain. Detach from a world that had only ever wanted him to suffer.

Spencer Reid faded away, or at the very least his mind did. And soon all that was left was a shell of himself, a husk of a man who had seen far too much pain.

He was but an empty vessel. Vacant. Void. Hollow. He surrendered to the momentary bliss he was enveloped into by the promise of detaching from this plane of existence.

This was why he didn’t want you to leave. He was safe when you were here. When you’re gone anything could happen.

And so he simply relented to it. He was so far past the point of being broken that he may as well lean into the fray.

Hello darkness, my old friend.

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echantedtoon · 3 days ago

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A Lovers' Circle (Poly Haishira x Reader) Ch17 Setting Hearts A Blaze P3

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You didn't want to do this. But they asked to see your aunt. If they found out that you didn't ask her then they'll be upset. But if I DO ask her I know she's going to do something embarrassing like take their cups to read their tea leaves or show up in her fortune teller's outfit. Gods. What if she does the same thing she did when she met Gyomei?!

Your body cringed inwards on itself just picturing your aunt feeling Kyojuro's arm and then declaring he'd make a wonderful husband for someone she knew. Your gut feeling BEGGED you to not go through with it, and you had asked your boyfriend's opinion on the matter. He knew what she was like so surely he'd be against the idea too right?

"They requested her presence didn't they? It would be unkind to everyone if you don't at least tell her about the invitation."

Crap. He was right. Sigh. You'd have to go tell her the next time you saw her, which happened to be the very next day. So with a heavy feeling in your stomach, you drove all the way to her house and forced yourself to climb up the steps and enter the house where you found your aunt trying to manhandle giant boxes of Christmas decorations out of the thin entrance to her attic.

"They want to what?"

"They wanted to invite you to dinner." You ducked avoiding the top plastic pine needles of a Christmas tree. "To thank you for helping them out. Um..Do want a hand?"

"I'm not old as dirt yet! I can put up a stupid tree." You only watched her struggle with the big thing until she wobbly placed it hard on the floor with a thud before sighing and stepping back to admire her work. "When is this dinner?"

"Um..I think Kyojuro said it was tomorrow night?"

"NO CAN DO, KIDDO!" She pointed up spinning on her heel and walking over to a big box labeled 'ornaments'. "I'm going to a speed dating event! There's only so much of me to go around!"

You sighed. A wave of relief flooding over you for a long moment. "So.. You'll be busy?"

"Honey, broken hearts and lonely souls are an epidemic in the world. When the world's calling me I must answer!"

"Well you didn't have to say it like a line written out of a story."

She waved you off. "Life is a story. Who's writing the story is whoever you decide to give the pencil to." Her arm then made a come here gesture. "Now come help me decorate the place! The halls won't deck themselves."

Everything seemed to go well enough the next day. Of course being a Saturday you had no work, but you still had the project with Giyuu and Shinobu to do due the last day of November which wasn't too far off. You opted to do it early in the morning so you could just go grocery shopping. So you did what you've been doing every morning. Getting up and ready before leaving to meet up with your friends at their house. Just ended up doing an hour of yoga before leaving to go grocery shopping at the local supermarket. Giyuu offered to drive you back but you declined as pretty much everything was within walking distance, even if it was pretty cold out.

No doubt the first snow wouldn't be too far behind. That's what you thought to yourself as you walked into the thankfully warm grocery store, and grabbed a shopping cart to start pushing it around to start grabbing groceries and things you'd need for dinner tomorrow night, some rice and eel cutlets for unadon. So it really was a surprise for you to just be carting around listening to the generic Christmas music already being played over the loudspeakers and the squeaky wheel of the cart as you pushed it along, stopping every so while to grab milk and eggs and other small things, only to turn the corner into the other aisle and then completely pause.

You blinked before a big smile pressed against your lips at the realization of a familiar face. A man with short ink black hair was standing sideways at the end of the aisle. Shopping basket in one hand while his other ran across canned goods looking at each label for a specific product. Murata didn't see you as you started up towards him.

"Murata!"

"GAH?!" Said man jumped and whirled around as fast as a startled cat but he paused and blinked upon seeing you. "Y/n?!"

You giggled. "Yep! It's me!"

"Don't do that! I could've had a heart attack!"

Despite his frown you giggled again. "Sorry. I haven't seen you in like a month! How have you been?"

"Hmph. I've been fine. Trying to pay for rent and go to classes hasn't been easy to multitask lately is all."

"Oh. I'm so sorry. Your boyfriend ok?"

"Sabito's fine. Like I said, it's just been super busy." Murata paused taking a moment to lean over and look behind you for something. Or really someone. "Is..your boyfriend here too?"

"Gyomei? No. He's helping a friend move some stuff. Why?"

He didn't answer at first. Continuing to look behind you and then behind him as if making sure you both were alone before looking back at you in a dead serious face. "Are you here by yourself?"

"Um.." Your brow rose at him. "Yes? You're being kinda weird, Dude."

"I just wanted to make sure none of...those people were around here." 'Those people'? Who was he talking about? Looking around once more, Murata looked back to your confused face. "Remember when I said I had something important to tell you?" You nodded. You did but he never told you what he wanted to talk about. "I wanted to warn you sooner but you were surrounded by those guys all the time."

"Warn me?" That certainly surprised you. "Warn me about what? And what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the polycule nuts!" You blinked as he groaned. "I'm talking about your boyfriend's boyfriends..and girlfriends!"

"You mean Giyuu and Shinobu?"

"And the rest of them!"

You were surprised. What about your friends warranted Murata wanting to warn you? It confused you to the core. "Why? What's so wrong with them?"

"Um. Everything??" He held up his hands. "When I first saw that guy I thought he looked familiar but I didn't know he was Himejima. If I'd known who it was then I would've told you to not go out with him!"

"Why? What's so wrong with him?"

"How do you not know about their reputation?!" He facepalmed with a loud groan.

"Murata, WHAT are you talking about?"

"People call them the 'Haishira' on campus." He explained looking up from his hands. "And they're pretty notorious for their lifestyle."

"You mean the fact that they're polyamorous?" Your brow rose with a frown. "Murata, there's lots of people in the world that's polyamorous. I'm not being cheated on or anything if that's what you're worried about. I already know about Gyomei having other partners and I'm fine with that-"

"It's not just that!" He cut you off with a look. "It's already super weird, but it's WAY beyond having like an extra boyfriend or girlfriend on the side! I'm worried about you being around them. Especially dangerous people like Shinazugawa and Iguro Obanai. And that Tengen guy!"

Sanemi and Obanai? Why? What was wrong with them? And Tengen? Your questions were answered as Murata continued talking in your silence.

"Both of them have got a bad reputation on campus and for good reason. They're always getting into fights and Sanemi sent a guy to the hospital his first year of Uni just cuz someone hit on his girlfriend! Everyone's scared of them cuz they're loose cannons! Not to mention that Tengen guy is like the biggest womanizer on campus! He's always flirting with people and winking and posing naked for the art classes-"

"Don't... people usually volunteer as nude models for art class all the time so the students can practice drawing anatomy?"

"That doesn't change the fact that they're all super weird to be around! Look! I'm like REALLY worried about you here! And as your friend, I'm begging you to stay away from those guys! They're trouble and there's a reason why people avoid them!"

Haishira? Avoiding them? Well you knew from Gyomei that many people tended to opt out of dating him due to his blindness or after learning about his orientation, but you never heard anything about them all having any kind of 'reputation'. The closest thing to that is when you had encountered Jake a second time at the pub. One of his friends had seemed to recognize Sanemi causing the group of them to flee the scene.

But Sanemi dangerous?

Not to you. He'd been nothing but respectful and passive towards most people outside of his relationships you've seen him interact with. He wasn't rude to anyone that didn't decide to poke him with a stick or decide to be rude or try to cause trouble to someone he seemed to care for. Most of the time around other people he just seemed neutral. Obanai...well you didn't know him too well. You've only spoken to him a handful of times but he didn't seem like someone who would harm someone on a whim either. As for Tengen, he was flirty whenever you spoke to him but that seemed more like his personality than him going around womanizing people.

"They never acted that way when I was around them."

"That's because you're dating their boyfriend! Which is a sentence I never thought I would ever say! *Sigh* Look. I just don't want to see you get hurt again!" His hand found your shoulder and a look of concern came over him. "I'd ask you to break up with him but I don't know if I'm in a position to do that. So instead I'm gonna warn you."

You still stared at him for a long, silent moment before sighing. "Murata, I appreciate your concern and I'm glad I have such a good friend. But I'm happy. Gyomei's not perfect, far from it actually, but for the first time I'm seeing someone who makes me happy and I'm worried about if he's going to ghost me or is secretly married. He makes me happy, and I actually like making friends with them. They're good people despite what rumors or people say. You don't have to worry about me."

Murata slowly sighed again deflating with a nod. "I had a feeling you'd probably say something like that. But...Would you at least please, PLEASE promise me you'll be careful?"

You smiled at him. "I promise but you don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine."

**************************************

You didn't know what to feel for the rest of the day. Running into Murata had left a bad taste in your mouth in your otherwise happy mood. It's not that you believed the rumors that were repeated to you in worry by him. Of course you didn't believe Sanemi was actually dangerous or any of the other ridiculous things Murata warned you about, but there was something bugging you.

Rumors usually didn't start out of no where.

Usually they were started by someone or they were based off something that did happen or sometimes a bit of both. So now which of the three was it? You debated calling Sanemi and asking him yourself but it would've been too awkward to just ask if he'd ever beat up someone and put him in the hospital. So instead you just went home and put your groceries away in some attempt to get your mind off the fact despite it still bugging you. Your day had gone by normally then but you still didn't shake the feeling of curiosity surrounding it all. In fact you nearly forgotten about the time because you were so distracted by it all. The clock showed up five p.m and the dinner was supposed to be at six.

OH CRAP!! YOU WERE GONNA BE LATE!!

It was a rush to shower and throw on a cute sweater before grabbing what you needed and running out of the door and towards the restaurant Kyojuro had insisted on you coming too. Luckily you knew exactly what restaurant it was. It was the new one Mitsuri wanted to go to but couldn't because it had been closed. It was right across from the park and the park wasn't too far away from your house as well.

Of course the afternoon was cold and nearly dark as the days grew shorter this time of year, but you held your purse halfway in your teeth as you yanked your coat over your shoulders and hoped the wind didn't smear your makeup. You were going to be late. You were going to be late. Oh you hoped they weren't going to be mad at you for being late. The trip as the sun set quickly took you along the sidewalks on your usual route to the university only to go straight through the park as some kind of short cut and straight to the streets and buildings on the other side. Where you went to was the first big building that let delicious smelling food waft on the breeze. That should be the one.

With a brisk pace you made towards the older styled building and opened the front door setting off a bell above your head, and a wave of warn air washed over your cold skin. Immediately after you stepped in, someone else was standing right there in front of you with a wide smile.

"Greetings!," he greeted you with a smile on his customer service face and a waiter's suit slapped on his body. "Do you have a reservation, Ma'am?"

"Um." You pushed the hair from your face attempting to smooth it over from the wind blowing it about. "N-No."

"Oh. I'm afraid I can't seat you without a reservation."

"I'm actually meeting someone here. Uh..Rengoku?"

"Rengoku? Hm. Let's see." From his podium thing he looked down at what you assumed was a check book. "Ah, yes. Table fourteen. Of course." With a gesture of his arm he pointed towards the inside massive room of tables. "Please follow me."

You did hoping you didn't look too out of place amongst the fancy furnishings and dressed up people. Until you spotted a familiar face and head of red hair. ...And a very familiar sounding voice.

"Umai!....Umai!....Umai!!"

You heard him before you saw him. Following him to the table in question revealed three identical figures of long red hair. One of which was a young man shoving pieces of wagyu steak pieces into his mouth and yelling out each time he took a bite. Yep. That was definitely Kyojuro alright.

The worker stopped behind Kyojuro whom had his back towards you but gained the attention of his parents. Shinjuro and Ruka if you remembered right from the party. "Excuse me, S-"

"UMAI!!"

Both the worker and yourself jumped back as Kyojuro just whirled around to surprise both of you. His wide grin only instantly widened more and his eyes brightened up when he saw you standing there.

"Y/N!!" Kyojuro announced loudly catching the attention of more tables turning to look towards the loud voice. "You've made it!"

With a blink or two you slowly relaxed back and awkwardly nodded. "Um. Y-Yeah. Sorry I'm late. I got..distracted."

"Nonsense! You arrived just in time!" With a scoot over, he easily moved his plate over and gestured to the place next to him. "Come sit! Join us and have something to eat!"

Taking the opportunity to make this less awkward, you quickly sat down next to Kyojuro and across from his father. The older man sat there with a neutral expression on his face as he watched you sit down in front of him. With a smile you turned to Kyojuro whom smiled widely and softly at you. A little strange but you figured it was out of gratitude for what you and your aunt did for them.

"I'm glad you could make it!," he started with a bright tone, "With your busy schedule I was afraid you wouldn't make it."

You waved him off. "Oh no. I wouldn't miss this! It was really nice of your family to invite me for dinner."

"Indeed! Speaking of which, I don't see your aunt anywhere? Is she running late as well?," he asked looking over your shoulder and around the restaurant in search of anyone else coming towards their table.

"I'm sorry but she couldn't make it since she's working tonight."

"That's a shame." Mrs. Rengoku smiled at you softly. "I was so looking forward to meeting her, but maybe next time. However I'm happy to make your acquaintance again. You're Y/n correct?"

You nodded. "That's me. I'm happy to hear that you're situation has improved!"

"Yes! My husband and I are very grateful! Thank you!" ....Ms. Ruka turned to her husband before lightly bumping her elbow into his arm.

He jolted turning to her. "What?" Ruka motioned her eyes towards you as he stared. "Oh. Right." He sighed before turning to you with a semi frown. "Thank you I suppose but I didn't need any help. It was nothing I couldn't have solved myself.. Eventually."

"There's no need to thank me really!" You held up your hands. "I'm just glad you all are doing better!"

"Well the least we can do is buy you dinner."

"Oh, you don't have to. I can pay for my own food."

You stopped blinking up as Kyojuro placed a hand on yours which he was still holding up. You blinked again looking between him and where he held your hand before he spoke up again.

"I insist. My treat. One meal is the least I can do to pay you back for all the kindness that you shown me."

"You?"

"Uh! M-My family too!," he quickly corrected. "I truly do insist! Please get whatever you'd like and I'll take care of it!"

"Well...I usually don't like taking other people's money like this."

"Then just take it as paying you back for those delicious cookies you've made us and we can call it even!"

You hummed again thinking it over. "Mmm...Ok. But just this once."

He beamed. "OF COURSE!! You won't regret it! Order whatever you'd like!"

"Thank you!" ....You looked down. "Um. Kyojuro." He hummed in question. "You're still holding my hand."

Immediately his eyes shot down and a bright pink color slapped across his upon the realization. "AH!! APOLOGIES!!" He immediately cried out loudly dropping your hand and making his mother giggle, his brother blink, and his father sigh and roll his eyes.

The dinner was nice. Casual even. Nothing really strange about it. You all talked about where everyone worked, what Ms. Ruka did as a calligraphy teacher, how Kyojuro came to work part time at the local shelter, a little bit about Senjuro's studies, and at one point Kyojuro asked how the project with Giyuu and Shinobu was going. Just a casual, normal family conversation...Minus yourself as you weren't a part of the Rengoku Family.

Slowly things came to a close. You did try to one more time pay for the small meal you had ordered but Kyojuro had pushed your card away and slapped down enough money to easily pay for both of your meals plus a tip for the waiter....

It was odd though.

His parents paid for their own and his brother's meals. Wasn't he paying for everyone? You brushed it off in the moment as you all made for the exit and then as you turned to bid them goodnight, Kyojuro turned to you sharply.

"Let me walk you home." You blinked at him. "It's getting dark and I'm sure Gyomei would appreciate that I didn't let his girlfriend walk home alone one dark winter night."

"What about your home? Isn't it in the opposite direction?"

"Haha! I don't live with my parents and my home is much closer to yours than theirs. I'll be fine!"

You were a bit confused with the sudden gesture, but Gyomei and even Giyuu once or twice had walked you home before so Kyojuro walking you home wasn't a bad thing. "Ok. If you're sure."

That's when he offered his arm out to you taking you aback again. Wasn't expecting him to do that. Was it ok to accept? After debating on it for a moment, you accepted his arm and (after thanking his parents for dinner and telling them all good bye-) you both walked back towards the park. It was mostly silent now in the dark with the night sky overhead. The only lights in the park being the stars and street lamps. Eerie. You were kinda glad you accepted Kyojuro's offer after all.

Midway through the park you slowly glanced up at him. He wasn't looking at you and instead continuing to walk and look around with you leading him towards your house....Maybe..HE had answers to your problem?

"Kyojuro?" He snapped to you immediately with a questioning him. It was kinda spooky how fast he reacted. Hesitating you looked away from him. "Can I..ask you something?"

"BUT OF COURSE!!," His loud voice echoed over the park. "Ask away!"

You hesitated again feeling a bit guilty. "Well...N-Not too long ago I ran into someone else who goes to the university." You decided it was best not to throw Murata under the metaphorical bus and keep his name out of it. "And...they told me some stuff about you guys-"

You stopped. Well Kyojuro immediately holted to a stop yanking you back too. The sudden jolt had you blinking, looking at him in instinct only to pause at the way he was staring at you. Still smiling but it looked more...serious.

"I see..", he slowly said after a moment, "What kind of 'stuff' did they tell you?"

"Oh..N-Nothing I actually believe of course." You quickly added holding up your free hand. "It's just some rumors."

"What kind of 'rumors'?"

You winced shrinking up a little bit and looking away again. "Well...T-They said that...Sanemi and Obanai were dangerous- Again I don't believe that! And t-t-that Te-Tengen was a...playboy I guess- Again I don't believe any of it!" You again looked at him nervously. "I-It's just something that someone else told me and I-I thought you guys should know about it is all!"

.... Kyojuro blinked. "Oh. Is that all?" You were again taken aback when he threw his head back and laughed loudly. His laughing echoing off the wind before he looked at you. "Those old rumors again. You have nothing to worry about." He assured you waving a hand. "Those are baseless rumors people had made up over misunderstandings and bad intentions!"

A sigh of relief left you despite it all. Yeah. You already figured as much, but hearing someone else confirm it put you at ease. "I figured that already... Although there is one more thing bugging me."

His head tilted. "And what might that be?"

"This person also told me Sanemi got into a really bad fight with someone who ended up in the hospital." You couldn't shake the way those men literally feared Sanemi at the pub. Something clearly happened. "Is that true?'

Kyojuro stared at you still, looked you up and down, before sighing. "It is but it's exaggerated way out of context. What really happened was someone else tried to kiss Hinatsuru without her consent at a party. When they wouldn't leave her alone, Sanemi more or less punched him in the face."

"So..he did make someone go to the hospital?"

"Well I suppose technically but the only thing he had was a broken nose. People like to make it seem like he had beaten the man into a coma but it's simply just a matter of him defending someone he cares about."

"Like he did for me."

Kyojuro smiled wider. "Yes. Exactly! You get it! Is that everything that concerns you?"

You nodded in relief. "Yes it does. Thank you, Kyojuro. It's been really comforting. I guess it goes to show there's still things to learn about you guys."

A glimmer of excitement formed in his eyes. "Then you should come celebrate with Tengen next weekend!"

You blinked. "Huh?"

"There's this cloud we're celebrating Mario's birthday at! Since you'd like to learn more about us you should come along and spend time with everyone!"

"I-...I don't know. I haven't even been invited."

"I'll throw the idea their way! If they say yes, you should come! It'll be lots of fun!"

"Well..Maybe. I'll have to think about it first!"

"SPLENDID!! Now come! It's getting colder and as much as I enjoy the beautiful night, Gyomei wouldn't be happy if I allowed you to catch a cold."

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penny00dreadful · 1 year ago

Text

Rookie Mistake

AO3

17th August 2023

Someone was following him home.

They were keeping their distance at least. But they'd been keeping their distance through the last three turns.

They could, at the very least, try not to make it obvious what they were doing.

Usually someone following him wouldn’t be a problem. Steve was an expert at what he did and losing a person who was tailing him was easy.

Or it used to be anyway.

His back had taken much longer to heal than any of them had expected and he’d been told his chances of walking again were fifty-fifty. Pretty much a coin toss.

But he’d started to get the feeling back in his legs again around the three month mark. While all of it still hadn’t returned and the doctors were unsure if it ever would, he could at least walk again.

He couldn’t move as fast nowadays, though the cane helped. But it didn’t help enough to escape from his followers' sight.

He was slow, he couldn’t run and he couldn’t stand for extended periods of time.

He could walk for even less. Which was probably why Claire at the gas station had kept shooting him concerned glances.

Walking to and from there was pretty much the extent of what he could do in a day.

Barely fifteen minutes there and back, but enough to have him exhausted and trying to keep the pain at bay.

Eddie was gonna lose his fucking mind once he found out. He worried too much. Steve still remembered the first words he heard when he woke up in the hospital.

“If you ever do that to me again, I swear to god sweetheart, I’ll take you out myself.” Spoken through teary eyes and with shaking hands as he reached for him, like if he didn’t touch him immediately Steve would drift back off into a coma.

This was the first time Steve had been home alone for an extended period of time since he'd been recovering. Eddie had looked at him with a stern pointed finger and an order not to do anything stupid.

So of course he had decided he was going to walk to the nearby gas station to pick up some of their favourite snacks.

They were gonna do a lazy streaming binge session later that evening, complete with a blanket fort like little kids, when Eddie got back from helping at the garage with Gareth.

What else was he supposed to do? He couldn’t drive anymore. He didn’t have the strength in his legs for the pedals.

And the gas station was just outside the estate they’d chosen to settle in. Eddie had wanted to be closer to his Uncle Wayne and be able to see his friends again and Steve could never refuse him that.

Except now he was limping home, cane in one hand, paper bag of junk food in the other, with pain and exhaustion shooting up his legs, right into his weakened back.

He could barely even focus on the space around him, he was concentrating so hard on just putting one foot in front of the other and getting home without passing out from the pain, never mind fighting off an assailant.

In his heyday he wouldn’t even have had to think about how he would handle this situation.

Now, however. Now he felt so fucking helpless.

There was a gun concealed in a secret pocket just inside the front door. If he could just get to it, he might make it out of whatever this was.

Even though Steve was on medical leave and Eddie was… retired, old habits die hard. They’d never not be trained to be killers and expect something around every corner.

God, he’d been so stupid. This was so stupid. Eddie would never let him hear the end of it.

Steve would be lucky if he could keep upright once he hit the front door, everything was so painful.

But Steve was well versed in pain. Literally trained in it. Torture, interrogation, field medicine, pushing past injuries to get the job done. Steve had handled it all, always dreading the idea of being put behind a desk. Even now he was determined to make sure that didn’t happen.

No offence to Robin and her job. He’d be dead ten times over without her but it just wasn’t something he could fathom doing.

There was a mentor position opening up though.

Dimitri was retiring to spend more time with his family which meant that Steve could possibly be looking after the new recruits in the near future.

Y’know.

If he didn’t fucking die here and now at the hands of some idiot lacking subtlety.

As far as anyone in the neighbourhood knew, Steve had moved to the area with his husband while recovering from a catastrophic fall, which wasn’t exactly incorrect.

The best lies were the ones that had truth in them.

And the neighbours had all been very… neighbourly. It was a little foreign to him. He was used to growing up in upper class neighbourhoods where he would maybe shoot a quick smile and a hello towards the couple across the road but apart from that, he pretended they didn’t exist and vice versa.

But here, though it was a solid middle class suburb, they all actually spoke to each other.

Bastien would usually chat while he was out walking his golden retriever named Bread.

Lucy and Anthony, a couple in their eighties, knew everything about everyone and gave them the best neighbourhood gossip.

Sandra loved hosting a cookout and invited them every single time.

Even the neighbourhood kids were all very sweet for a bunch of teenagers.

Best of all was their next door neighbour, Chrissy.

She had knocked on their front door with a freshly baked apple pie in one hand and an invite to her big blowout divorce celebration in the other. It was only the day after they’d moved in and Steve had hobbled downstairs to find her and Eddie chatting like they’d known each other forever.

Steve had originally worried they were only being included in these events as the token queers of the neighbourhood. Just so all these middle classers could pat themselves on the back for their diversity but those worries were quickly put to rest.

Their acceptance was quiet. It wasn’t braggadocious. It was sweet.

Chrissy's divorce party had been a wild night full of karaoke, an obscene amount of chinese food and glass upon glass of pink, glittery, fruity cocktails.

All things that Jason had hated.

Things Chrissy loved.

Things she hadn’t been able to enjoy in her own home in years. But now she was free to do whatever her heart desired.

Chrissy deserved way better than Jason anyway.

She had leaned into Eddie’s side and taken Steve’s hand in hers and slurred that she wanted “what you guys have. You’re so sweet to each other. How long have you been together?”

They had made eye contact over her head with raised eyebrows.

The start of their relationship was always a bit of a blurred line.

“Seven, eight years maybe?” Eddie had said, holding her steady with an arm around her waist.

“Really?” She’d asked, blinking her big eyes up at the two of them. “That’s such a long time. Jason and I got married after a year. Don’t do that.” She added, pointing back and forth at the two of them. “It’s a bad idea.”

Steve patted the hand that was held in his. “We won’t. Don’t worry.”

Especially considering they’d already been married two years by then.

As the night wore on and more and more stories had come out about what Chrissy’s marriage had been like, Eddie had offered, with three cocktail umbrellas in his hair and a Pink Lady in his hand, to hunt Jason down and make him disappear.

Chrissy had giggled with a roll of her eyes.

"Oh sure, you big softie.” She said as she lightly swatted his arm. “If he starts calling around unannounced again, then go ahead."

Eddie had smiled, sweet and innocent, but his eyes had been sharp and hard and Jason needed to watch his fucking back.

Steve had been able to convince him to at least give Jason a warning the first time, before he completely wiped the guy from existence.

But only one warning was all Eddie would concede to with a pout and a mutter of ‘You’re no fun’.

If Jason couldn’t take a hint and kept coming around after that, it wasn't Steve's problem anymore.

In general their time in the neighbourhood was nice. It was domestic. The area was safe and sleepy and naive to most of the wrongs of the world.

It was something Steve and Eddie had never had the chance to have, especially considering the start of their relationship had been so… combative.

Which is what made the guy trailing behind him stick out like a penguin in the desert.

He was unfamiliar.

In an ill fitting black suit that looked like something out of a bad spy movie and greasy slicked back hair.

Steve wasn’t scared of him.

He was clearly inexperienced.

Or just stupid.

The guy kept his gaze locked on his target, one hand constantly in his pocket and a look of grim determination on his face.

Obvious.

But he also seemed to be growing in confidence too. Getting slowly closer and closer.

Steve kept his pace slow and relaxed, trying his best to hide the pain and exhaustion he was feeling sinking into his back and down his legs.

And trying to hide the fact that he knew a fucking idiot was tailing him.

If some fucking newbie gang member or whatever was able to take him down because Steve couldn’t help but push himself, he was going to be so pissed off.

All he needed to do was get inside.

Unlock the door, get inside and he’d be able to grab one of their concealed weapons and take care of whatever this was.

Easy peasy.

Or it would have been easy peasy if not for the second guy.

The second guy who’d descended on him just as he pushed his front door open, looping an arm around his neck.

He dropped his bag and his cane, scrabbling against the hold and just barely brushing the hidden gun compartment with his fingers before he felt it.

The sharp sting of a needle in his neck and the cold of whatever it was spreading through his veins.

The last thought that ran through his head before everything went black was that Eddie was going to be so dramatic about this.

He didn’t know how long it was before he woke up but he could take a guess.

It was an empty warehouse he was being kept in, if the bare concrete walls, metal roof and high ceilings were anything to go by.

The windows were right at the top, only letting the barest sliver of orange daylight through.

The sun was low enough Steve guessed he’d only been out for an hour.

The whole place smelled of damp and was shrouded in shadow, the only light being that bit of orange sun and one bare light bulb hanging over his head.

Brimborn Steelworks, he thought.

He could smell the sea air, hear gulls outside, and the warehouse had been abandoned for as long as they’d been in the area so it was a pretty safe bet.

Just outside the circle of light he was washed in, he could hear muttering and bodies shuffling around.

About four by his estimation, along with the sound of metal parts shifting against each other.

Guns.

Fantastic.

Just what he fucking needed.

His hands were knotted behind his back, not even tied to the chair he was sitting on. Who used rope to tie people up anymore?

Aside from certain… intimate circumstances, Steve hadn’t had to deal with rope in ages.

Not since… well.

It was usually zip ties or duct tape that were used.

Much quicker, much easier to conceal in pockets or pouches.

And judging by how he was tied, fingers pointed downwards, inner wrist to inner wrist and just a bit too tightly, these guys had absolutely no experience with ropes.

Kinky or not.

They hadn’t even bothered to blindfold him.

Or gag him.

Eddie would have never been so sloppy. He could’ve done better than this to Steve with his eyes closed and on a Tuesday afternoon.

If he was at full strength, he’d have been able to manoeuvre the weak bindings of his ropes until he was able to tug them free and kick the shit out of the closest guy until he got his hands on his gun.

Then he’d be out of here and on his way home before Eddie had the time to properly spiral.

But he wasn’t at full strength, he could barely even pull against the binds around his wrists, tugged at an uncomfortable angle behind his back.

Not a gentle angle and not at the proper straining points he was used to.

The rope was rough and harsh against his skin instead of the delicious soft bite of the silken binds.

But it was fine.

He wouldn’t be here long.

“He’s awake.” A voice in front of him said.

The accent was mostly American but with the slightest tinge of Russian underneath.

Great.

Two men in ill fitting black suits with their guns held loosely at their sides stepped into the light. The other two stayed behind him, probably as some kind of security or intimidation measure.

Well, it was nice to see them try.

Cute almost.

“Hello.” Steve sighed. “Can you guys tell me what this is all about so we can get it over with, please?”

“Oh,” the one in front of him sneered, “he thinks he’s funny.”

“I think I’m very funny, yes.” Steve nodded, relaxing into the chair as much as he could.

The guy scowled. Clearly he hadn’t learned that sometimes having fun on the job was necessary. Helped alleviate stress. “You’re gonna answer our questions.”

“Sure thing, Drago.” Steve nodded. The guy really did look like Drago. Big meaty head and short crop of blonde hair. “Hit me.”

Drago smirked. “If you insist.”

With an almighty crack he brought the back of his hand down across Steve’s face, snapping his head to the side.

He could feel the blood welling up in his mouth where his teeth had cut into his cheek and the heat from the strike blooming over his skin that would no doubt turn purple within the next day.

God, never start an interrogation with violence.

Fucking casuals.

Steve sucked at the blood pooling in his mouth and spat it at Drago’s feet.

“You’re going to regret that.”

Drago scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “Who do you work for?”

“Scoops.” Steve grinned with blood stained teeth and a nonchalant shrug. “Scoops Ahoy. That little ice cream shop at the mall?”

“Cute.” He sneered.

“Thank you.”

“Maybe you need more persuasion.” A voice came from behind him and a sharp blade was pressed against his neck. “How would you feel if I were to cut your pretty throat?”

Steve ran his tongue over his bloody teeth.

“Do it.”

There was a stutter of movement as the four of them glanced at each other.

“You think we won’t?”

“No, go on, do it.” Steve pressed his neck against the blade which was immediately pulled away. “You think you can get more answers out of my dead body?”

The guy with the blade swung himself around to face him, digging the point into his cheek this time with a snarl.

Steve couldn’t even be bothered to give him a name in his head.

He’d be Knife Guy.

Didn’t matter.

He’d be dead soon.

“Or,” Steve continued, “do you think that I’m going to cower to any more of your threats now that you’ve just shown me you’re not willing to kill me?” He laughed. “Never start with your last resort.”

The tip of the blade was dug in deeper and dragged across his cheek, cutting into his skin but Steve could barely feel it as he distantly heard the sound of tires screeching to a stop outside.

No one else seemed to have noticed.

“We don’t need to kill you, we just need to make you talk.”

“Well,” Steve sighed, grimacing at the hot sticky blood running down his cheek. If he was lucky it wouldn’t scar.

If they were lucky it wouldn’t scar.

“I suggest you hurry up, you’re running out of time.”

The four of them laughed. “You think your buddies are coming for you? We targeted you because you were alone and impeded. You had no safety net around you.”

“You sure about that?” Steve took in each of their faces, all looking so confident in a job well done. “You’re right, my buddies aren’t coming for me. If they were, you could take your time. But as it is you’ll all be dead in about,” he tilted his head, listening for the first distant gunshot, which sounded only half a second later, “three minutes so…”

“If not your buddies then who?”

“You guys seem a little new at this.” He said gently, like he was speaking to children. “Have you ever heard of The Shadow of Hawkins?”

Their blank faces told him all he needed to know.

Fair enough.

It was a fairly obscure name after all.

And a bit ridiculous.

“How about The Demon of Dresden?” He glanced around. “No? The Bloodyhanded? Ringing any bells?”

Steve blinked at them all in bewilderment.

Did these guys know anything?

The gunfire outside was getting louder and closer to their building and the guys around him seem to have finally clued in, clutching their guns tighter.

Like that would do anything for them.

Steve refused to give them a moment of reprieve.

“Really guys? He’s gonna be so offended.” He shook his head, as though disappointed. “Well, maybe you’ll know him by his most famous title.” The last gunshot cracked through the air leaving a terrible silence in its wake. “Kas. The Betrayer.”

Every one of them flinched at the name, the colour draining from their faces as a door slammed open in another part of the building.

“He's trying to scare us.” Knife Guy swallowed. “Kas is dead.”

“He was." Steve nodded. "But you had to go and resurrect him. But here’s another one for you.” He grinned again, blood coating his teeth and leaned as far forward as his bindings would allow him, despite the strain on his back. “Who do you think I am?”

“Why does it matter?" The third guy spat, but Drago had a horrible realisation dawning on his face.

"You…"

“Who?” The fourth asked, whipping his head back and forth to look at the two of them. “Who is he?”

“He… you…” Drago shook his head, his full accent apparent now. “You can’t be!”

“Who gave us our intel?!” Knife Guy shouted at the others, also cottoning on.

“You…” Drago swallowed. “You’re his-”

“Sweetheart!” Eddie’s voice echoed around the warehouse seeming to come from all directions and none all at once.

Knife Guy was by his side in a flash with a fist in his hair and the blade pressed against his throat again.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Steve said, glancing up. “He’s very protective of my hair.”

His fist only tightened.

“Fine,” Steve shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“Hey fuckos!” Eddie was still shrouded in darkness, completely hidden from view. “Tying him to chairs is my job!”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Oh, for god's sake.”

Drago stepped in front of Steve, squaring his shoulders and puffing out his chest, pointing his gun towards the various dark corners. “If you want your-”

Four loud gunshots rang out, echoing throughout the room.

Steve felt the warm splatter of blood across his face.

Four bodies fell to the floor, a clean bullet wound through three of their foreheads.

Knife Guy, the one who had his hand in Steve’s hair was screaming in agony, clutching his blown apart knee.

“An hour, sweetheart.” Eddie’s figure stormed out of the dark, coming to a stop just in front of him. He still had grease from the garage streaked over his cheek and embedded into the creases on his hands to go along with the copious amount of other people’s blood spattered all over his body. “I leave you alone for one hour and I have to answer a call from a worried Chrissy checking to see if everything's okay because our front door is wide fucking open. How did you go and get yourself kidnapped by Ruskies?”

"Oh, I'm sorry, please continue to tell me how getting fucking ambushed outside our home is my fault."

"It didn’t start outside our home, did it?"

Knife Guy wailed again and Eddie looked down on him with a cold glare.

“Oh, sorry.” He said, not sorry at all. “I must have missed.”

With a simple squeeze of the trigger he put a hole through Knife Guys head and the screaming stopped.

Steve expected Eddie to walk behind him to cut his binds but instead he just swung his leg out and sat himself down on Steve's lap.

"It started at that fucking gas station because you can't sit down for five minutes straight." Eddie pulled a small pocket sized first aid kit out and tilted Steve's head to the side. "Even if fucking Hippocrates or god damned Florence Nightingale rose from the dead and told you to take it easy, you'd still be ignoring their orders." He scoffed as he roughly pressed a butterfly bandage over Steve's cheek. "And you call me the hyperactive one." He mumbled.

Steve winced, glaring at him as Eddie pressed down particularly hard on one strip.

His mouth was still pulled into a deep frown but he stroked his fingers gently over Steve’s cheek, caressing his face with the gentlest of touches.

"You okay?"

Steve couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Yeah baby, I'm good. But they got the angle of my arms all wrong. It's really uncomfortable."

"Hmm. Well as an expert in tying you down to chairs, I'd have to agree. How dare they steal my thing. I fell in love with you when you were tied to a chair."

Steve raised an eyebrow, complete disbelief written on his face.

“Oh yeah?” He tried to bring their faces closer but he was impeded by his bindings. Eddie just gave him a feral grin. “Which time?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Tell me.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Eddie cooed. “No.”

“Asshole.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Would you mind?" He tugged at the ropes again. "My back is fucking killing me."

"Of course." Eddie muttered into Steve's mouth but never properly closing the distance while simultaneously lifting his weight up. “All you had to do was ask.”

With the bindings now gone, his shoulders and arms felt like fucking lead and the blood rushing back into his hands was causing terrible pins and needles.

Eddie was digging his fingers into Steve's muscles, trying to alleviate as much of the strain as he could.

Steve closed his eyes and groaned, his earlier ill-advised trip was catching up with him again and he was dreading having to walk out of this place.

He just wanted to be at fucking home, in his fucking bed with his fucking husband.

Or maybe they could still do that naked blanket fort in the living room with a movie marathon and an obscene amount of snacks.

When he opened his eyes again, Eddie was on one knee with his back to him.

“Hop on.”

Steve grumbled but couldn’t find it in himself to argue, sliding himself forward, slinging his arms over Eddie’s shoulders and allowing himself to be carried off.

Eddie was strong and steady under him, barely flinching as he grabbed tight to Steve’s thighs and stood.

Their walk back was quiet and Steve wasn’t looking forward to the amount of paperwork that would have to be filed as a result of this but he hoped since he was still on medical leave he could get out of it.

The sun was starting to set outside, the sky splashed with brilliant shades of reds and oranges and pinks. Now that he was outside he saw he was correct about where he was being held.

Brimborn Steel Works.

Still got it.

When he turned his head back around to face forward he saw that Eddie had driven Steve's beloved bimmer here.

The driver's side door was flung open and the car was at an odd angle, the direction and darkness of the tire marks behind telling Steve that Eddie had practically drifted into the lot at speed.

There were a few bullet holes in the doors and the passenger window was shattered but it wasn’t the worst that car had ever seen.

Bodies littered the ground around them, all in the same out of date suits Steve’s four goons had been wearing, all with the same guns, all with the same kind of build and all with slowly coagulating pools of blood and brains around them.

Damn.

Eddie really didn’t hold back this time.

Steve looked back at his car.

He couldn’t drive her anymore.

Probably never would be able to again.

They’d talked about trading it in for a model with push-pull controls for his hands instead of floor pedals so he could have that freedom back.

But they hadn’t gotten to it yet.

Eddie had taken his motorcycle to the garage, he would have arrived home with it. Probably seen the front door wide open and a grocery bag on the ground like Chrissy said.

It would have been quicker to get here on the motorcycle.

But Steve couldn’t ride on it.

Not as a driver or passenger.

At least not yet, not until he was further healed.

So Eddie had come here with the car, either because of hope, stubbornness or pure confidence, knowing he would get Steve back.

Steve smiled to himself, tightening his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and burying his face in his neck, peppering little kisses on any skin he could reach.

“You okay back there?”

He could hear the grin in his voice as Eddie lowered him down into the passenger seat, turning on his knees to rest his forearms across Steve’s thighs.

“Yeah.” Steve smiled down at him. “Just… thanks for finding me.”

Eddie straightened up to his full kneeling height, taking Steve's face in his hands.

“Of course, sweetheart.” He leaned up, pressing the softest of soft kisses against Steve’s lips, full of love, adoration, dedication.

Steve could feel it pouring out of him and into his own body.

The gentlest intimacy from a man who could cause so much violence.

Eddie brushed their noses together. “I’ll always come find you.”

“You always say that.”

Eddie hummed. “Because I always will.”

AO3

A prequel fic set in this universe will be dropping next week 👀

@geekymagicalpotato

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the STWG for their motivation.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #penny00dreadful #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #fanfic #pennys anniversary event #spies au #spy steve #“retired” eddie #rookie mistake #tw guns #tw murder #tw kidnapping #rookie mistake fic

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