#find my lighter pens again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

livelaughlovesubs · 27 days ago

Note

Hiii, Nini! Can I please request a Sigma x male reader fic with impact play? We've seen Sigma in fics getting absolutely decimated by the reader LMAO- I almost feel bad, so here's a twist, this is light impact play. Instead of spanks/floggers he can brace for, nope, feathers that make him jump out of his skin every time, giggling despite himself because wtf he's taken so much worse-. I think he'd absolutely lose it with the lighter/gentler stuff more so than the harder stuff purely because of how flustered he'd get XD. Ps I'm making it canon, you cannot look at him and tell me that stressed-as-hell man ain't ticklish.

Ahhhh so true!!! I imagine him as very sensitive and ticklish as well, like 🤤🤤 also since the gender wasn’t mentioned anywhere, you can interpret it however you want :]

Dom!reader x sub!sigma - reader is gn neutral

Warning: tickling/soft impact play, teasing, humiliation, slight dacryphilia (can’t write a fic without good’ol dacryphilia), using his hair as a brush???

Edit: started & finished this in the middle of the night, I’m so tired and I didn’t proof read it, also my brain is cooked idk what I did here

It’s been too quiet these days. Too boring, too mundane, too relaxing. There were many adjectives that would fit this little dilemma you were facing, called ‘dying of boredom’. You’ve been waiting around for your sweetheart to make a mistake, just so you’d have a reason to punish him. Yet how could it be that he’s so perfect in every way possible? You weren’t even exaggerating or meaning to sing his praises, heck you wanted him to be a little more human!

Otherwise you couldn’t think of a good reason to pull him out of his busy schedule, just to have him all to yourself, in such a selfish way. He wouldn’t agree, everyone knows how he puts his work above everything else. Such a horrible work ethic he has. Whatever, no one is perfect, even the manager of the sky casino will have to slip up somewhere, and you were way too eager to find it.

Sigma was just signing some documents as you watched him over his shoulder, taking sneaky peeks as if he hasn’t noticed you already. At this point he was probably wondering what you were doing. It didn’t bother you in the slightest, in fact, you knew due to you being so close, he’d get nervous and overthinking again. Something along the lines of: Did you want something from him? Why were you watching him all silently, so creepily?

And there it was— what you’ve been waiting for! “Sigma~ gosh, you clumsy thing! You wrote down the wrong date there, look.” You pointed it out a little too enthusiastically, eyes sparkling like morning sunlight, reflecting how excited you were. He glanced at you funnily, probably baffled why you were so happy about it. “Ah- yes, I see, uhh.. thanks, y/n.” Sigma furrowed his brows for a split second, then turned his attentions back to the papers. Though before he could continue writing, you snatched the pen out of his hand.

“Nope, you made a mistake sigma, and such a simple one as well. Tsk tsk tsk.” You faked a disappointment sigh, and facepalmed, putting your acting skills to use, “I’ll need to punish you, don’t you think?” So that’s what you’ve been waiting for, and probably the reason why you were so full of glee earlier. “A-are you serious..? For such a small thing?” Sigma looked taken aback, leaning his head back until he met your eyes. A slight blush was already convering his pale cheeks, such a naughty boy, he was excited as well.

“Why of course, it was a grave mistake after all. Stand up.” He was more ready to comply than you thought, not making any fuss as he stood up. “Good boy, now sit on the table.” You moved the chair away, pinning his body between your arms and gripping the edge of the furniture. Sigma glanced at you a few times, seemingly surprised with your demand. To be honest he expected you to bend him over your lap. This was fine as well, in fact, this position would prove itself to be more comfortable than what he initially predicted.

You were close, all up in his intimate space. He swore he could feel the heat radiating off your body. A slight blush covered his cheeks as he waited for your orders, already feeling the effects you had on him. It was almost terrifying how much control you had with just a few words. “Come on, you know how it goes. Strip.” After waiting for what felt like forever, you smirked as you whispered to him. “Ah- right. Sorry.” The boy replied half-minded, hands moving up to unbutton his vest.

This wouldn’t have been all that humiliating if it wasn’t for the fact that you were staring him up and down like some prey, watching his every move as he peeled off one layer after another. “Can’t you.. look in the other way?” He muttered in a meek voice, currently taking his pants off. “I’ve seen you nude plenty times darling,” you reached for his hands and helped him undress, “why are you still embarrassed?”

“You- stop teasing me..” The way his face flushed even more while he desperately tried to shake your hands off was so precious, you couldn’t stop grinning. “Ever thought it’s part of the punishment?” You asked, grabbing his thighs and spreading them apart. They were soft to the touch, and so squishy, his skin was flawless. “Ah-ahh… I’m- I’m really getting punished… over that little mistake?” He bawled his hands into fists, biting his lips to stop the trembling.

“I mean what I said.” He inhaled shakily, and breathed an equally unsure exhale. Eyes glossed over and half-lidded, body burning under your every touch. Poor boy was just preparing for the worst. You gave him a reassuring smile, then raised your hand right over his thighs. So it was going to be spanking, he thought and squeezed his eyes together. To his surprise, instead of the painful slap he expected, he was met with a teasing one. In response his body twitched involuntarily, and his eyes ripped open.

He didn’t flinch because of the pain, no there was no pain to speak of. There were only a soft, faintly red mark that gradually appeared on his inner thigh. Pretty much nothing worth mentioning, you left more marks when you grabbed his skin to spread his legs. “Erm… Y/n?” He couldn’t help but question your actions. That was a slip up, right? He’s taken so much worse, compared to all that you were basically caressing him.

Suddenly, another slap, though just as soft and gentle as the first one, making him jump out of his seat. “Wait- y/n, what are you doing?” It was such a light slap, can you even call it one? Wouldn’t tap be a more fitting description? “Punishing you. Why, do you want to be bullied instead?” You teased, followed by another slap, this time on the other thigh, and his toes curled. Why did this feel even more embarrassing than anything else? The sound was way louder and more dramatic than the actual impact.

“Ah- no but, seriously, what are you doing?” Out of nowhere you slapped his chest, once again it wasn’t painful in the slightest. He tensed together, still able to feel your touch in the places you’ve touched. “Shhh, be good and endure it for me, alright?” Instead of answering him, you stroked his fluffy hair, and smiled all self confident. The look on his face screamed confusion, but he trusted you, and so he simply swallowed the lump in his throat.

You grabbed a strain of his hair, one of the longer locks, sliding your hand through them, a little amazed at how untangled his hair was. As soon as you reached the ends, you held it fairly firm in your hand, and used it like a brush to graze over his skin. First over his cheeks just to annoy him, earning yourself a glare from him, then a feather-light brush over his nipples. He really didn’t know where you were going with this, but god did it rile him up.

It tickled, and it was so foreign, he couldn’t help but subconsciously clench his thighs together. Hands trembling from clenching his fists too hard, the pounding of his own heart echoing in his ears. You made sure to not touch him anywhere except with your hands, which made him all the more sensitive. Those touches were driving him mad, and that fact itself made him all the more flustered. You were barely doing anything, how could it be that he wanted to cry amidst all these sensations?

Soft, muffled whimpers slipped from his swollen lips, he arched his back forward whenever everything became too much. “Hnng- please, ah.. stop the t-teasing…! Hmm..!!” You carefully traced a line down his belly, resting your makeshift brush around his pelvis and moving it in a circling motion. As if all this wasn’t humiliating enough, he now knew why you had him sit on the table. All so you could observe his every move, every shameful expression and listen to every shaky breath he exhaled.

“Look at you getting all excited just from a few touches, you are way more needy than you’d like to admit, aren’t you?” “HnnGh..~ p-please.. ah-!!”He whined again, feeling you finally, finally giving his neglected dick some attention. Only using one finger to lazily rub his tip a few times, before using his hair to brush over the already sticky gland. His precum slowly dribbled from his slit, down his shaft before getting smeared around by you. “So messy.” Was all you had to say.

“Y/n, y-you’re so Mnn.. mean,” he squirmed around, shaking his head as tears rolled down his crimson cheeks, “I-i wanna cum…” you tilted your head to the side, sliding the bush of hair over his inner thighs, “that’s not how you ask for things, baby.” Then you used your other hand to rub his tears away, it ended up with him crying even more. “Such a crybaby, why don’t you try asking nicely?”

He gulped, trying to cease the sobbing for a moment, bending forwards as he let his head drop. The shame was eating at him, but he really couldn’t do this anymore~ which is why he looked up at you like a lost puppy, with glistening eyes and rosy lips, shaking ever so slightly as he begged, “please.. ha-Ahhh…I-i wanna cum♥︎ please m-make me c-cum..!!♡♡♥︎”

You smiled, staying quiet for a moment to raise the intensity and anticipation, then wrapped your arms around his shivering body. “You’ve been so good for me, and good boys deserve to be rewarded.”

172 notes · View notes

fluentmoviequoter · 1 month ago

Text

Tim Through the Years - The Perfect Ring

Series Masterlist (part 9)

Summary: Tim finds the perfect engagement ring and stops a robbery in progress. 1.2k+ words

Tim loves you and, as a result, he thinks that he knows you well enough to understand what you do and don’t like, what you want and enjoy, and what is special to you. Yet, he can’t find the ring. He has a mental image of the ring he wants to put on your ringer when he proposes, but he can’t seem to find the right piece to match his idea.

Since finding out that Tim was dating you, Angela has dropped hints about getting married: leaving paper samples on his desk, texting venue options late at night, and even slipping jewelry store cards into his pocket. As he slides his hands into his pockets, thinking about you and how he should propose, he isn’t surprised to feel a rectangular piece of cardboard. The slogan about custom engagement rings, however, captures his attention. Tim puts the card back in his pocket to keep it safe before he gets back to work, but he feels a little lighter because he is one step closer to forever with you.

“Welcome!” the owner of the jewelry store calls as Tim enters on an afternoon off. “What can I help you with, sir?”

“Well,” Tim begins, glancing down at the rows of expensive rings and watches in the case between them. “I’m looking for an engagement ring, but I’m having trouble finding the right one.”

“You know what you want then?” the man asks with a smile.

“I think so, I just can’t seem to communicate it well enough to search for it.”

The man nods and pulls an iPad from a nearby shelf. He opens the magnetic case and sets it on the glass case. “I’ve been working with gentlemen like yourself for years. Think of the ring you want and talk me through what you see. We’ll see what we can do from there.”

“Okay,” Tim agrees hesitantly. He smiles and begins talking about the ring he pictures on your finger: the color, cut, size, and design he envisions when he dreams of his future with you. Though you haven’t sent him pictures or said anything to make him think he should propose - or given him an idea of your ring preference, for that matter - Tim Bradford knows you, so he can make connections between your personality, your style, your heart, and a ring. Or so he thinks.

“... and maybe an engraving to signify how we met, at the police station,” Tim concludes.

“Alright,” the owner murmurs, tapping another marker setting. “Give me one second to finish this up. Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but it sounds like the two of you are perfect for one another. You’re lucky.”

“I appreciate that. Hopefully her brothers think the same when I ask him.”

“You don’t necessarily hide it. Okay.” He straightens and sets the pen aside, then turns the iPad toward Tim and asks, “Something like this?”

Tim is speechless as he stares at the sketch of the ring. The owner says something about not being able to hurt his feelings, but all Tim can think of is you.

“That’s it,” he says, looking up to thank the owner. “This is the ring.”

With a smile, the man extends his hand and offers, “Then let’s get started. I’ll need your help with a few things, just picking out the final material choices, and then I’ll start making it for you. I trust you know her ring size.”

“I do,” Tim answers. “One of my coworkers stole one of her rings as a hint, but I already knew.”

“See,” the man points out, “you don’t hide it, so if her brothers can’t see it, they aren’t looking.”

Tim nods and follows the man to a flat cart at the end of the display case. He lifts a box of sample diamonds in different cuts and colors before pulling out the one closest to his drawing.

“What do you think?”

Tim turns the man-made version of the gem in his hand and envisions you walking down the aisle, holding his hand, teaching, and growing old with it on your finger.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Let me get your information and I’ll give you a call with any questions and again when it’s ready to pick up. You’re sure this is the perfect ring?”

“For the perfect girl,” Tim answers.

Since finding the perfect ring for you, Tim was looking forward to his next day off. His plan was to grab breakfast with your brothers then go get the ring afterwards, even if he was told no by your brothers. Tim knew how you saw Dean as a father figure and that traditions were important to you, so he wanted to make sure he got permission. Tim felt pretty confident that they would say yes, they all were pretty good friends at this point. Tim and Dean would go to a sports bar to get burgers and watch the game when they both could. While Sam would go jogging with Tim on occasion, but at least once a month everyone would get together for dinner. But on the chance the brothers would say no, he would ask you anyway. He was in love with you and wanted to scream it to the sky.

Today was finally the day, and it was going great so far. Breakfast went exactly as he planned, the brothers immediately agreeing and then arguing about who would walk her down the aisle, which turned into arguing who was gonna dance with her first. Tim chuckles to himself at the memory, the brothers truly loved you. Finally arriving at the store he feels a little nervous, nervous that the ring is going to be the wrong one, nervous that you will say no, but when the store clerk shows him the ring he ordered, all the fear goes away because the ring is perfect.

“Put your hands in the air! This is a robbery!” a deep voice bellows from behind Tim.

Tim’s smile turns to a frown instantly, this is not how he wanted to spend his day. Tim complies; he didn’t want to get seriously hurt since he is off duty. But when the guy shoves Tim to the side and grabs your engagement ring, Tim grabs the guy by the back of the head and slams his head on the counter then grabs his gun all in one quick motion and aims it at the robber.

“LAPD! You're under arrest!”

Tim is annoyed, he is now trying to make it seem like he was not buying any jewelry as to not involve more people than necessary. But of course Lucy was one of the first people to arrive on scene and so she has to take his statement.

“Like I keep telling you, I was walking by and saw the robbery take place so I stopped it. What’s so hard to believe?” Tim grunts to Lucy.

“Okay, okay, this just doesn’t seem to be the part of town I’d take you to stroll around, it’s too fancy for you,” Lucy replies with a small smile.

“Tim! Great news, I got your engagement ring to not be processed and the owner of the store wants to give you a big discount since the guy has robbed the store 5 times now! Isn’t that great... news. Oh, hey Lucy.” Angela freezes as she gets closer to Tim, not knowing Lucy was with him.

“You bought a what?!” Lucy exclaims.

#tim through the years #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #winchester!reader #fluentmoviequoter

126 notes · View notes

larissasgirl · 6 months ago

Note

Can I request some HEAVY fluff with regina where reader have a terrible period (cramps, heavy flow, fatigue, always hungry, and just constant sobbing. Yes I'm on my period and I hate everything (except your writing)) (i love your writing)

You can always call me

Helllooo! Better late than never👉👈 Once again, sorry for the mistakes. As my friend would say, I'm just a girl😂 Hope you like it🥺

Saying you were in a bad mood was an understatement. Truth to be told, you weren’t angry per say, but rather in pain. In so much pain that it would knock the wind out of your lungs as you waited for the waves to pass. You had always been truly lucky in that department, as you could go months without feeling any discomfort. But when it happened, when it would be the exception, it would make up for the ones that were pain free. It made it almost impossible for you to function normally.

You had woken up after your girlfriend, as you reached next to you for Regina, only to find her side of the bed cold and empty. You knew she was under a lot of pressure lately, always going to work before you were even up and coming back at crazy hours of the night. You sighed as you started feeling the familiar wave of pain slowly creeping its way back to you when you got up and got dressed, only for it to grow in intensity as the day progressed. You had contemplated calling in sick, but you knew how hard it was to find a substitute at the last minute, and you truly didn’t have the energy to make up a lesson plan for the day to give it to them. You were working with Mary Margaret at the elementary school, which happened to be the perfect job for you. Regina would often roll her eyes and call you a child, but you could always see through her fake annoyance whenever she said it. She adored you. She adored the way you would often come home with messy braids done by your students during recess and your arms full of drawings, with I love you’s written in messy handwritings and mistakes, which she knew made your heart a little lighter. She loved how happy the tiny humans made you, how you’d often randomly get an idea of an activity during dinner and shared it with her excitedly, wanting her opinion on it. She loved the way you cared so much, not only for them, but for everyone around you. You were a breath of fresh air when she thought she was meant to be alone for the rest of her life, and she absolutely adored everything about you.

But today, you were completely drained, and you knew even though you were in pain, your kids would still be full of energy. In times like these, you would curse in every language you knew in your head, to be sure that the tiny humans wouldn’t hear, of course. You had managed to push though the morning by sitting down as much as you could, the medication you had taken after waking up slowly losing its effect. You were so thankful when the bell rang for lunch as the kids all rushed to the cafeteria, finally letting your head drop on your arms. You felt like you couldn’t move from your desk, the pain becoming unbearable by the minute.

“Hey, Y/N, do you think I can borrow a…” Mary Margaret, as her usual cheerful self, had just stormed in your classroom, looking to borrow something from you as she did every day. She was always a bit distracted and often misplaced her belongings, and you would usually just shake your head smiling before lending her your pen, your sharpener, or even your paper trimmer. “Are you alright?” she had stopped in her tracks when she had noticed your posture, and you slowly raised your head before you forced a smile on your face.

“I’m just in a little pain, but it will pass,” you shrugged it off as if you hadn’t wished to disappear into the ground over and over again just seconds before. You forced yourself to get up from your chair, leaning on your desk with both hands as a wave of dizziness suddenly washed over you. It wasn’t uncommon that the pain would lead to you to be physically sick, getting too much for your body to cope. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be in front of Mary Margaret and at your desk.

“Are you sure? You’re as white as a ghost,” she rushed to your side when she noticed your struggling, grabbing your forearms and helping you sitting down once again.

“It’s just my stupid period, I’m not the first neither the last,” you mumbled before reaching for your bag under your desk, attempting to find your medication in the mess you had made when you packed it up this morning.

“I think you should go home, Y/N. You’re clearly in pain,” you missed the way her brows furrowed when another wave of pain rushed over you, a small whimper leaving your lips.

“It’s too complicated. Besides, the day is almost over” you sighed, before finally finding what you were looking for in your bag, as you grabbed your water bottle to swallow the pill, hoping it would take effect quickly.

“If by almost over, you mean the hour that will be the lunch break plus the entire afternoon, you’re clearly not thinking straight. Come on, get your things and I’ll take care of everything,” she argued, her hands on her hips, her brown eyes defying you to refuse. With a sigh and no strength to fight back, you started grabbing your things on your desk, missing the way she quickly pulled out her phone from her pockets before typing something and putting it back there before helping you to get your belongings.

“Thank you, and I’m sorry,” you whispered the last part, ashamed of yourself for leaving work before the end of the day knowing she had to cover for you.

“Don’t be sorry, I’d rather have you back feeling better so I can keep borrowing your things. Nobody else will let me,” she joked, trying to lighten the mood, which seemed to work as it made you smile a little before guiding you to the school’s front doors. She held it open for you, pointing at the black Mercedes that was parked right in front of you. It took you a second to recognize it, even though it seemed oddly familiar, the sun blinding you momentarily.

“Did you seriously called Regina?” your eyes widened, feeling a headache forming behind your eyelids. You rubbed them off with your fists like a child, not caring about the mascara you had quickly put on earlier, which made Mary Margaret beam at you when some fell under your eyes, completely obnoxious of the anxiety raising inside of you. She waved at Regina who was walking towards you with her lips pressed together, an indication she was not happy. You were in trouble big time.

“I didn’t called, I texted her. See you later!” she turned on her heels and walked back into the school before you could answer back. You now understood a little better why Regina was aiming for her head back in the Enchanted Forest. You turned your gaze back to your girlfriend, who grabbed your bag from your shoulder, noticing the way her jaw was clenched, her eyes boring into yours with an expression you only took for anger even though her movements were nothing but gentle.

“I’m so sorry Regina, I didn’t know she would bother you at work,” you hesitated, looking at your feet, not daring to meet her eyes. It seemed so silly to pull her out of her office when you knew she was so busy simply because you had your period.

She grabbed your chin with her hand, her thumb slowly brushing circles on your cheek as she forced you to meet her eyes. They were much softer now, almost glossy, and you realized that what you had mistaken for irritation was worry.

“You never bother me,” she pulled you close to her, holding you the closest she possibly could, your face finding its usual spot in her neck. You breathed in her scent, your shoulders dropping as the anxiety left your body before wrapping your arms around her waist as tightly as you could. “I want you to call me when you’re in pain,” she whispered into your hair, swinging you lightly from side to side. “I want to be there for you, Y/N,” she pulled back to look at your face, but keeping you close to her, your eyes flooded with tears as she gently brushed away the ones that managed to escape. “You always come first. Please, never hesitate to call me.”

You were sure your knees would give in if she wasn’t holding you close to her, the love and worry filling her beautiful brown eyes making a new wave of tears escaping your owns. You simply nodded as she softly grabbed your hand, not before wiping the tears from your cheeks once again and kissing it when she was done. The way she would drop her stubborn, sarcastic attitude and become so caring, so gentle with you, even though you were in public, and no matter who watched never ceased to amaze you. It almost made you sob. “Let’s go home now, shall we?”

She led you to the passenger’s side of her car and opened the door for you, as you sat down with another wave of pain stealing your breath away. She noticed immediately, being familiar with your often painful episodes from the year you’d been together, and gently kissed your forehead before closing the door and making her way to the other side, sitting down behind the wheel and driving off right away. “We’ll be home soon, and then I can put warm water to heat for the bag and make you tea. Deal?” she briefly looked at you to make sure you had heard her before returning her attention on the road, seeing you nod in the corner of her yes.

“And we can cuddle?” you whispered, so quietly that she almost didn’t hear it.

Regina smiled widely and glanced at you again, pulling a hand just above your knee, rubbing your skin softly with her thumb. “Yes darling, we can cuddle,” she laughed, making you blush at the nickname, and also because you knew it meant she had taken the rest of the day off to spend it with you. It made your heart swell with love for the woman sitting next to you, not taking your eyes off her for the duration of the drive.

It appeared to be much faster than usual, even though you didn’t lived too far from the school. You blamed it on your fuzzy brain and on your lack of concentration, being too busy staring at your girlfriend, not knowing Regina had sped up a little, hating to see you hurting so much and wanting to take care of you as soon as possible. She helped you to get out of the car and argued with you over carrying your bag inside, before you finally gave in and let her do it. She opened the door and you went in, letting yourself fall on the couch with a sight. You closed your eyes and tried to take deep breaths, hence why you didn’t noticed when your girlfriend wrapped your shoulders with your favorite blanket that had little brown bears that you absolutely adored and that she hated, stating it was made for children and that she wasn’t one. It made you giggle a bit when you peeked through your heavy eyelids to see what she had wrapped you in with, only to notice she wasn’t next to you anymore.

“And what are you laughing at exactly?” she questioned from the kitchen, leaning in the doorframe to get a better look at you. You figured she had put water to boil as you noticed the empty water bag in her hand, your eyes softening even more at the sight in front of you.

“You gave me your favorite blanket,” your mouth was curved into a soft smile, hinting that you were finding it utterly adorable and were simply teasing her a little.

She rolled her eyes but smirked at you, happy to see you almost back to normal, turning her attention back to the kettle, the high pitching noise indicating the water was hot. She carefully filled the water bag and screw the lid shut as tight as she could, as the last thing she wanted to do was to burn you. Then, she reached for the tea box and quickly filled a cup with water before making her way back to you, setting the fuming mug on the living room’s small table and handing you the now warm water bag. She sat next to you, her leg touching yours, and studied your face carefully for any signs of discomfort. She was relieved to see the colors returning to your face slowly, having also noticed that you were paler than usual when she had picked you up.

“Thank you, Gina,” you smiled gratefully at her, the warmth seeming to help with the pain almost instantly, and the medication from earlier having probably kicked in too, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. “Lie down with me?” you battled your eyelashes and gave her a little pout when she unwrapped the blanket from your shoulders, feeling cold immediately. She kissed your lips gently before laying down on the couch, pulling you down with her, being careful to leave enough space for you to place the water bag. She draped the blanket on you both this time, which almost made you want to tease her again for being wrapped in the blanket she seemed to hate so much. You immediately wrapped your arms around her after making sure the bag would hold itself in place between you two, nuzzling your face in her neck and placing a kiss that made her shiver. She felt your lips curl into a smile again her skin at her reaction, holding you tighter than before.

“Thank you for everything. I love you, Gina” you mumbled, feeling exhausted from the pain that seemed to temporarily have given you a break.

“I love you too, sweetheart. I’ll always take care of you,” her nails tracing your back made it hard to stay awake, feeling more than content wrapped safely in your girlfriend’s arms. “Close your pretty eyes, I’ll still be there when you wake up,” she whispered, placing a kiss on the top of your head. And you did, knowing that no matter what happened, you’d always be safe with Regina by your side.

#regina mills x reader #x reader

162 notes · View notes

doestalker · 5 months ago

Note

in smoker geto we trust 🛐

yes we dooo so here's more smoker!geto !!

your legs wobbled and seemed to have a mind of their own as you tried to navigate through the sweaty bodies in the nightclub. the colorful lights blurred your vision, and you were pretty sure you stepped on more than a few toes with your heels. the music's heavy bass thudded in your chest, and instead of pulling you in, it made you feel more disconnected. the air was thick with a mixture of perfume and the smell of too many bodies together, it was all too much. fuck, i need some fresh air, you thought as you pushed foward towards the inviting green sign that read 'exit'.

as you stepped outside, finally breaking free from the chaos of the club, the cool air hit your face, a refreshing contrast to the stifling heat inside. you fumbled with your coat, trying to slip it on, and staggered slightly before finding your balance. leaning against the rough brick wall next to the entrance, you took a moment to steady yourself, savoring the crisp night air as it began to soothe your senses.

out of the corner of your eye, you could see someone was standing a few feet away from you, on the other side of the door. you turned your head a little, it was one of the kitchen staff taking a smoke break, judging by the basic white tee under a black apron.

he wore his long hair like a cloak of jet black, while his weary eyes were framed by faint dark circles, revealing a depth of fatigue—evident even from a distance. a cigarette, halfway burned, dangled from his lips. the glow of ember lit up his face amid the darkness of the street as he exhaled a thin stream of smoke, his head resting against the wall, watching it swirl up into the night.

for a moment, he caught you staring and you blushed. despite his tired looks, he was undeniably attractive and you were sure you looked a mess of frizzy hair and sweaty makeup. he gave you a lazy side smirk.

"can i have one?" you asked, voice cracking a little mid sentence. you cleared your throat.

he looked you up and down, then let out a soft, amused laugh. "what's the magic word, princess?" his voice was like velvet—soft and deep, as if the cheshire cat had stepped out of the shadows and become human.

you ignored the heat burning in the pit of your stomach. "please?"

his smile widened, accentuating his monolids and wrinkling the outer corners of his eyes. with a casual grace, he reached into the front pocket of his apron and pulled out a pack of menthol cigarettes. he picked one and handed it to you.

as you put the filter over your lips, you turned to him, a touch of embarrassment on your eyes. "do you have a lighter?" you asked, your voiced tinged with shyness from asking him for something again.

he chuckled softly, brushing off your embarrassment with a reassuring nod as he walked over to stand in front of you. he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver lighter. with a flick of his thumb, the metal wheel sparked and a tiny flame flickered to life. he held the lighter steady, the warm glow briefly illuminating your face, as he brought it closer to the cigarette on your lips.

you breathed in the intoxicating blend of his cologne and nicotine as you took a deep drag, and he watched with a faint, satisfied smile, his eyes still twinkling with that lazy, knowing glint.

"what's your name?" you asked, exhaling the smoke through your nostrils.

"suguru geto," replied the tired man in front of you. you couldn’t help but think that exhaustion had never looked so attractive on anyone else. "my break's over, but here," he said, pulling a pen out of his apron pocket and taking your hand. he scribbled his number in black ink on your forearm before giving you a mischiveous wink. "in case you're out of lighters."

#suguru geto #suguru geto drabble #suguru geto x reader #suguru x reader #suguru x you #suguru geto x you #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk drabble #suguru geto headcanon #geto x reader #geto x you #geto drabble #drabble #sfw #jjk sfw

143 notes · View notes

earthtoharlow · 1 month ago

Text

Don’t Like The Lights

Sequel to Flashing Lights series, must read Flashing Lights first to understand

20. Blame On Me

Series Masterlist

Maryse sat in the cozy dimly lit room, hands clasped tightly in her lap. She glanced around, taking in the bookshelf filled with self-help titles and the calming artwork on the walls, but none of it settled the nervous energy bubbling inside her. This was her first therapy session, and although she knew she needed it, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was out of place.

The therapist, a kind-eyed woman with a warm smile, sat across from her, pen and notepad in hand. “Take your time,” she said gently. “We don’t have to dive in right away. This space is for you, at your own pace.”

Maryse nodded, her throat tightening as she tried to find her voice. “I’m not really sure where to start,” she admitted with a sheepish smile. “I’ve never done this before.”

“That’s okay,” the therapist assured her. “Why don’t you tell me what brought you here today?”

Maryse hesitated, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her oversized sweatshirt. “Well… my partner—he suggested it,” she began. “He said I’ve been holding a lot in, especially after having the twins and, you know… the stalker incident last year.”

The therapist nodded, her expression encouraging but not intrusive. “It sounds like you’ve been through a lot. And it’s wonderful that you have someone in your life who cares so much about your well-being.”

A small smile tugged at Maryse’s lips. “He’s the best,” she said softly. “But… sometimes I feel like I’m letting everyone down if I’m not okay. Like I have to keep going, keep being strong, for him, for the kids, for my career.”

The words spilled out before she could stop them, and her voice cracked slightly at the end. She quickly looked away, blinking back the tears threatening to fall.

“It’s a lot to carry,” the therapist said gently. “But you don’t have to carry it all by yourself. That’s what this space is for—so you can let some of it out and start to heal.”

Maryse nodded, exhaling shakily as the weight of her emotions began to surface. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she didn’t have to hold it all together. It was terrifying but also a little freeing.

As the session went on, she found herself opening up more, sharing pieces of her struggles and fears. By the time it ended, she felt lighter—not completely, but enough to make her realize that this might actually help.

Maryse left her first therapy session feeling nervous but hopeful. The therapist had encouraged her to take small steps in opening up to the people closest to her, especially Jack. “Start with something specific,” her therapist had said. “Talk about your mom guilt. Let him in.”

Later that evening, Maryse found Jack in the living room, slouched on the couch, flipping through TV channels aimlessly. His posture alone told her he’d had a rough day.

“Hey,” she said softly, sitting beside him. “You okay?”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Not really. Studio was a mess today. Couldn’t get the sound right, producers kept switching things up, and I’m just over it.”

Maryse hesitated, the assignment from her therapist still fresh in her mind. She reached for his hand, trying to find the right moment. “I wanted to talk to you about something,” she started cautiously.

“Can it wait?” he muttered, not looking at her. “I’m not really in the mood for anything heavy right now.”

Her heart sank, but she pressed on, her voice a little firmer this time. “It’s important. I’ve been feeling… I don’t know, overwhelmed, I guess. Like I’m not doing enough for the twins, or that I’m not a good mom because I’m away sometimes.”

Jack sighed again, this time louder, and leaned back on the couch. “Babe, you’re overthinking it. The kids are fine. You’re fine. Can we just not do this right now?”

The dismissive tone stung more than she expected. She bit her lip, fighting back tears, and nodded silently. “Okay. I’ll let you relax,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, before standing and walking toward the twins’ room.

Once inside, she found herself pacing, frustration bubbling up. She didn’t want to push him on a bad day, but it hurt to feel like her emotions were being brushed aside.

She spotted London lying in her crib, wide awake but quiet, her big eyes staring at the mobile above her. Maryse scooped her up gently, holding her close and peppering her with soft kisses.

“Hey, baby girl,” she whispered, her voice shaky as she tried to soothe herself through London. “At least you’re always here for me, huh?”

London cooed softly, her tiny hands reaching for Maryse’s face, and Maryse let out a weak laugh, the weight of her frustration still pressing down on her chest.

Over the next few days, Maryse barely spoke to Jack. She went about her routine, caring for the twins and avoiding him as much as possible. When he tried to initiate small talk, she responded with short, curt answers. Meanwhile, she started packing a bag for herself and the twins bit by bit, trying not to make it obvious but unable to fully hide her intentions.

It wasn’t until the third evening that Jack noticed her pulling baby clothes from the dresser into a tote bag. “Yo, what’s your problem?” he asked, standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

She paused, her back still to him, then turned around slowly. “My problem? My problem is that when I tried to talk to you about something important, you brushed me off like I was annoying you,” she snapped.

Jack frowned, running a hand down his face. “I didn’t brush you off. I just had a bad day! I’m doing my best here, but I’m not a mind reader, M. How am I supposed to know what you need if you don’t tell me?”

“You didn’t even try to listen!” she shot back, her voice rising. “I finally worked up the courage to talk to you about how I’ve been feeling, and you couldn’t even give me five minutes of your time. Instead, you made me feel like what I’m going through doesn’t matter.”

“That’s not fair,” he countered, his voice defensive but softer now. “You know I care about you and the kids. I’m just trying to juggle everything too.”

“Well, congratulations, you’re juggling so well you’ve managed to drop me,” she said bitterly. “So, until you figure out how to actually listen and care about what I’m saying, I’m taking the twins to my parents’ house.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “What? You’re overreacting—”

“Am I? Or am I just making sure I’m around people who actually notice when I’m drowning?” she interrupted. She zipped up the tote bag with a dramatic tug.

She brushed past him, leaving him standing in stunned silence as she headed to the nursery to get the twins.

Maryse was in the nursery, gently dressing London while Noah sat in his bouncer, kicking his little feet. She moved methodically, her hands steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside her. Jack followed her into the room, his voice firm but not harsh.

“Maryse, stop,” he said, “We need to talk about this.”

Without looking at him, she adjusted London’s tiny socks and shook her head. “No, I tried talking. You didn’t want to hear me then, so why should I believe you want to hear me now?”

He sighed and pushed off the doorframe, taking a few steps closer. “I wasn’t in the right headspace that day. I know I messed up, but walking out with the kids isn’t the answer.”

She finally looked up at him, her eyes sharp. “You don’t get to decide what the answer is for me. You made it clear I was just another thing on your list of problems that day. I’m not going to beg you to care.”

Jack ran another hand through his hair in frustration. “You know I care. I’ve been here every step of the way, trying to support you and the twins. I’m not perfect, but I’m trying.”

“Trying?” she repeated, her voice bitter. “Trying would’ve been sitting down with me when I told you I was struggling instead of brushing me off. Trying would’ve been hearing me when I needed you instead of making excuses.”

He crouched down to her level as she adjusted London’s tiny jacket as she placed her in her car seat, his tone softening. “I hear you now, though. Don’t leave, please. Let’s just talk.”

But she stood up, moving to get Noah. “No, Jack. I don’t want to talk anymore. You didn’t listen when it mattered. I’ll be at my mom’s. Maybe you can use the quiet to figure out what you want to say.”

Her words hit him hard, and he knew there was no stopping her at that moment. As she buckled Noah in, she added quietly, “I’m not trying to punish you—I just can’t keep feeling like this in my own home.”

He swallowed, his throat tight, but said nothing as she lifted the car seats and walked past him.

Jack eventually followed her to the front door, his voice sharper now, frustration bubbling over. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna take my kids and leave like this? You don’t think this is a little childish?”

Maryse spun around, her hand still gripping the car seat handle. Her eyes blazed as she snapped back, “They’re not just your kids, Jackman. They’re ours. And I’m doing what I think is best for my sanity and their well-being because clearly, staying here and feeling invisible isn’t working for me.”

“I feel like you’re trying to make me the bad guy.”

“You think this is about making you the bad guy?” she said, her voice trembling with anger and hurt. “This is about me needing to be heard, needing to feel like my feelings matter too. But every time I try, it’s like talking to a brick wall.”

He clenched his jaw, his hands on his hips, trying to steady his tone. “You don’t have to run to your mom’s house to make a point.”

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “This isn’t about making a point. This is about me feeling like I’m not drowning for once. And if I have to leave to get that, then so be it.”

As she opened the door, she turned back one last time, her voice quieter but no less firm. “I love you.” knowing that he needed to hear her say it.

“I know.” Jack said and gave her a nod. Maryse sighed and with that, she stepped outside, the door closing behind her with a weight that lingered in the air.

***

Jack was lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, the house unbearably quiet without Maryse and the twins. He hadn’t heard from her since she left, and guilt was slowly sinking in.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table, and he grabbed it without looking at the caller ID. “Hello?”

Before he could say another word, his mom’s sharp voice cut through the line like a whip. “What the hell did you do, Jackman?”

He sat up straight, alarmed. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me,” she snapped. “Maryse called me crying—crying—and said she took my grandbabies to her mom’s house because she needed a break from you. A break from you, Jack! What did you do to her?”

Jack groaned, running a hand down his face. “Ma, it’s not that simple—”

“Not that simple? Let me tell you what’s simple, boy,” she cut him off, her voice heated. “You’ve got a woman who gave you two beautiful babies, and she’s trying to handle being a mom while still figuring out her own stuff, and instead of supporting her, you’re pushing her away! That’s what’s simple!”

“I’m not pushing her away!” he protested, though the defensiveness in his tone wasn’t helping his case.

“Oh, really?” she fired back. “Because from what I’m hearing, you encouraged her to go to therapy, and now that she’s trying to open up to you, you’re shutting her down! What kind of sense does that make?”

Jack froze at that, the truth of her words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He didn’t have a response, and his mom took the silence as her cue to keep going.

“She’s already feeling guilty and overwhelmed, and she’s trying to do what you suggested—trying to talk—and you pushed her away. How do you think that makes her feel? How do you think it makes me feel, knowing my grandbabies are caught in the middle because their parents are too stubborn to figure this out?”

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, guilt hitting him full force. “Ma, I didn’t mean for it to get this bad. I just… I had a bad day, and I didn’t handle it right. She tried to talk to me, and I didn’t… I didn’t give her what she needed.”

“Well, no kidding!” she huffed. “You think this is some kind of game? Relationships take work, Jack. You need to fix this before it gets worse. And don’t just show up empty-handed either—bring some damn flowers, apologize, and for heaven’s sake, listen to her.”

“I will,” he muttered, feeling about two inches tall.

“You better,” she warned. “Because if you let that girl slip through your fingers, you’ll have me to answer to.”

“I hear you, Ma. I’ll fix it,” he promised.

“And don’t wait too long, you hear me?” she added, her tone softening slightly. “She loves you, Jack. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t,” he said quietly.

As the call ended, he stared at his phone for a moment, already planning how to make things right. His mom was right—he’d been stubborn, but it was time to own up to his mistakes.

****

Maryse was sitting in the rocking chair in the kids nursery that her parents put together when they decided to move to Kentucky to be closer to their grandkids, gently swaying back and forth with London in her arms. The baby was fussing, her little face scrunched up as she whimpered and refused to settle.

“Come on, London,” Maryse whispered, her voice soft but tired. “Mama’s got you. Just close those pretty eyes for me.”

London, however, had other plans. She let out another fussy cry, her tiny hands grabbing at Maryse’s shirt in protest.

Maryse sighed, resting her head against the back of the chair. “You’re really going to make this hard for me, huh? Is this because Daddy’s not here to do the bedtime dance?”

She tried humming a lullaby, but London wasn’t having it. Maryse adjusted her hold, gently bouncing her daughter in hopes of soothing her. “I know you love when Daddy sings to you, but Mama can sing too, you know,” she said, her tone teasing despite her exhaustion.

Her mom peeked her head into the room, holding a warm bottle. “Still not down?”

“Nope,” Maryse replied, her voice tinged with frustration. “She’s got her daddy wrapped around her little finger, and now she won’t nap without him.”

Her mom chuckled softly, walking in to place the bottle on the dresser. “That girl does love her daddy, but you’ve got that same magic touch, sweetheart. You just have to find it again.”

Maryse gave a weak smile. “Yeah, but he’s the one who does all the silly voices and bounces her in that special way that makes her laugh first, then fall asleep.”

“Maybe you can FaceTime him,” her mom suggested, giving her a knowing look.

Maryse sighed, staring down at London, who was still fighting sleep like it was her personal mission. “If I call him now, it’s going to feel like admitting defeat,” she joked, but her tone was weary.

Her mom touched her shoulder gently. “It’s not defeat, honey. It’s teamwork. And I’m sure he’d love to see her anyway.”

After a moment, Maryse relented. She pulled out her phone and hit the video call button. When Jack’s face popped up on the screen, looking a little disheveled but concerned, she felt a wave of relief.

“Hey,” he said, noticing her tired expression right away. “What’s going on?”

Maryse turned the camera to London, who perked up the moment she saw her dad on the screen, her little arms reaching toward the phone.

“Well, somebody won’t take a nap because you’re not here to do the magic,” Maryse said, her voice softening.

Jack chuckled, his voice warm. “Oh, is that right, London? You giving Mama a hard time?”

London babbled happily, her fussiness forgotten as she watched her dad’s face. Maryse rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

“Okay, okay,” Jack said. “Put the phone near her ear. Let me do my thing.”

As Maryse held the phone near London’s ear, Jack’s soft singing worked its magic. London’s little body finally relaxed, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Unbelievable,” Maryse muttered, more to herself than to him, as she gently laid London down in the crib.

Jack smiled at the screen. “Told you I had the magic touch,” he said playfully.

Maryse just shrugged, keeping her face neutral. “Guess so,” she replied, her tone flat. She didn’t even glance at the screen as she adjusted the baby blanket.

Jack frowned slightly, sensing her mood but deciding not to push. “You, uh… you coming home tonight?” he asked cautiously.

Maryse didn’t look up from where she was now tidying the nursery, giving a small shake of her head.

“No,” she said simply, her voice devoid of any emotion.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, his voice softening. “Alright. Well, I love you.”

She paused for a split second, her hand hovering over London’s crib, then straightened up. “I know,” she said coolly, not meeting his eyes through the screen.

Before he could respond, she ended the call, setting the phone down on the dresser without another word.

Jack stared at the now-black screen in disbelief, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. For the first time, the weight of the distance between them felt heavier than ever.

Her mom had been standing just outside the nursery door, rocking Noah gently in her arms. She heard every word of the conversation and watched as Maryse stared at the blank phone screen with a clenched jaw.

“Baby,” her mom said softly, stepping into the room, “you need to go home and talk to him.”

Maryse sighed, shaking her head as she grabbed London’s pacifier from the dresser. “Why, Mom? When I wanted to talk, he didn’t want to listen,” she said bitterly, her tone sharp.

Her mom didn’t let her finish. “Stop it right there,” she said firmly, giving her daughter a knowing look. “Your father and I raised you better than this, and you know it. You’re upset, and you have every right to be, but shutting down like this isn’t the answer. You two are in a partnership. That man loves you, and I know you love him. You don’t fix things by running away every time it gets hard.”

Maryse crossed her arms defensively but didn’t respond, her mom’s words hitting too close to home.

Her mom continued, her voice softening. “He’s not perfect, and neither are you. But he’s trying. Don’t let your pride ruin something good. Those babies deserve two parents who work through their problems, not run from them.”

Maryse swallowed hard, her eyes darting toward London’s crib. Her mom placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You’ve been through so much, and I know it’s not easy. But don’t shut him out just because he didn’t respond the way you wanted the first time. Go home. Sit down. Talk to him like the woman I raised you to be.”

Maryse blinked back tears, her mom’s words sinking in, but she still hesitated. “What if he doesn’t understand, Mom? What if he doesn’t get it?”

Her mom smiled softly. “Then you explain it to him until he does. Relationships aren’t about who’s right or wrong. It’s about making the choice to try every single day. You’re stronger than this, baby. Go home.”

“I’ll think about it.” Maryse said with a sigh before turning to leave the room and head towards the bathroom to shower for the night.

***

The next morning, Maryse’s mom was up earlier than usual, enjoying her coffee in the quiet of the kitchen, when the doorbell rang. She frowned, not expecting anyone, and pulled out her phone to check the ring camera.

There he was—Jack, standing on her porch in a hoodie, hands stuffed into his pockets, rocking nervously on his heels.

Her jaw dropped when she noticed the rest of the scene: the entire porch was covered in roses. Bouquets of every size, from deep crimson to soft pink, crowded every inch of space, leaving barely enough room for him to stand.

She sighed, setting her coffee down with a muttered, “Lord have mercy.”

Opening the door just enough to poke her head out, she raised an eyebrow. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Big Gesture himself.”

Jack looked up, giving a sheepish smile. “Morning, Ms. Monet. I, uh… I came to apologize.”

Her gaze flicked to the mountain of flowers spilling onto her porch. “And…all this?”

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wanted to show her I’m serious. I messed up, and I need her to know I’m sorry.”

She looked him over for a moment before stepping out onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind her. “You can wait right here,” she said firmly.

“Outside?”

She folded her arms. “Yes, outside. If she wants to talk to you, she’ll come out. But I’m not letting you barge in here and force her into anything.”

Jack nodded, swallowing hard. “That’s fair.”

She softened just a bit, adding, “And for the record? Big gestures are cute, but they don’t fix everything, son. You’ve got to do better than flowers.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I’m ready to.”

“Good,” she said, turning back toward the door. “Now sit tight. I’ll go let her know you’re here.”

He watched her go, left standing on the porch surrounded by roses, the morning air cool against his skin as he rehearsed everything he wanted to say.

Her mom walked into the nursery where Maryse was playing on the floor with Noah. Arms crossed. “He’s outside. And he’s not leaving.”

Maryse frowned, glancing up from where she sat with Noah in her lap. “What do you mean, he’s outside?”

Her mom sighed and gestured toward the front door. “Check the camera.”

Reluctantly, Maryse picked up her phone and opened the app, her heart sinking as she saw Jack standing there. He looked nervous, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, shifting his weight from foot to foot. She hated how good he looked, even when he was clearly stressed out.

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before deciding to press the intercom button on the camera. “What do you want?” her voice came through the speaker, flat and guarded.

Jack immediately perked up, looking straight at the camera. “Baby, can we talk? Please?”

Maryse tilted her head, her tone remaining cool. “Didn’t you say I was acting childish? Maybe I’m still too busy being childish to talk.”

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay, I deserve that. But I’m not here to argue. I’m here to apologize. Can we please talk? Face to face?”

She crossed her arms and leaned back on the couch, debating her next move. “You seem fine talking to me through the camera.”

Jack chuckled softly, though it was tinged with frustration. “You’re really gonna make me work for this, huh?”

Maryse smirked faintly but kept her voice steady. “You tell me, Mr. Mind Reader.”

Jack sighed again, looking directly into the camera. “You’re right, I messed up. But I miss you and the kids so much it hurts. Please, just give me a chance to fix this.”

Her mom, watching from the doorway, gave her an expectant look. Maryse hesitated, then sighed, standing up. “Stay there,” she said into the camera.

As she walked toward the door, her heart pounded in her chest. She wasn’t ready to let him off the hook completely, but seeing him out there, looking like a lovesick puppy, was softening her resolve.

Maryse unlocked the door and pulled it open, expecting to see just Jack standing there. Her breath hitched when she saw what was behind him.

The entire front porch was filled with roses—dozens upon dozens of bouquets in every shade of red, pink, and white. They spilled down the steps, clustered around the railing, and even lined the walkway.

“Are you serious?” she asked, blinking in disbelief.

Jack gave her a sheepish smile, hands still shoved in his pockets. “I figured one bouquet wasn’t gonna cut it.”

She looked from him to the sea of roses, her lips parting in surprise. “This is… a lot,” she admitted, though she couldn’t hide the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

He took a cautious step forward, his voice soft. “I meant it when I said I’d do whatever it takes to make this right. I just… I love you, and I hate that I made you feel like I didn’t care.”

Maryse’s fingers tightened around the edge of the door as she fought the lump rising in her throat. She wanted to stay mad, but seeing him standing there, nervous and vulnerable, surrounded by roses, made it nearly impossible.

Maryse sat down on the porch reluctantly, trying her hardest to look unimpressed as the sea of roses surrounded her. She crossed her arms and gave him a pointed look. “You know, this doesn’t change anything. You’re still not forgiven.”

Jack, standing in front of her with his hands in his pockets, smirked just slightly. “But… these are your favorite flowers,” he teased, his voice soft but cocky, like he already knew the answer.

She rolled her eyes dramatically, though the corner of her mouth twitched as if fighting a smile. “So? That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.”

He nodded, taking a small step closer and dropping the smirk. “I know,” he said quietly. “I’m not here just to sweet-talk my way out of this.” He crouched down in front of her, resting his forearms on his knees so they were face-to-face. “I’m here because I messed up, and I need to own that.”

Maryse glanced away, her walls still up. “You’re right. You did.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like your feelings didn’t matter,” he continued, his voice earnest now. “I hate that I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me, especially when I wanted you to. I just… I don’t know. Sometimes I look at you, and I see how you just do it. You’re this incredible mom. The twins love you. They’re obsessed with you. And sometimes, I feel like you’ve got it all figured out, and I’m just trying to keep up.”

Her eyes flicked back to him, her expression softening slightly.

“And instead of saying that… instead of listening to you, I pushed you away like an idiot,” he added, his voice quieter now. “But you were right. You tried to talk to me, and I didn’t listen. And I’m sorry, babe. You’re the best mom those babies could ever have, and you don’t have to carry all of this alone. I want to be better at showing you that.”

Maryse sighed softly, looking at him for a moment as he sat there waiting, his eyes full of guilt but also hope. “You really feel like you’re just ‘keeping up’?” she asked, her tone gentler now.

Jack nodded, brushing a hand through his hair. “Yeah. All the time.”

Her lips finally quirked into the faintest smile. “Well, you’re doing better than you think, even when you’re being an idiot.”

He smirked, relief washing over his face as he straightened up. “So, you’re saying there’s hope for me?”

Maryse exhaled, giving him a small eye roll but with a smile this time. “Maybe.”

Jack grinned, pulling her up from the seat on the porch, keeping his hands lightly on her waist. “I’ll take ‘maybe.’ It’s better than ‘get off my porch.’”

She let him pull her close, though she kept her voice stubborn. “Still not forgiven.”

“Okay,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll keep working on it. Just don’t make me bring more flowers. I don’t think there’s any left in Kentucky.”

Maryse couldn’t help but laugh, punching him lightly in the arm. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Ow!” he yelped, clutching his arm and pretending it actually hurt.

“Stop being such a baby,” she said, rolling her eyes, though her smile betrayed her.

He dropped the act and looked at her seriously, his voice soft. “But for real… are you coming home now? I really miss you. I miss the kids, too.”

Her teasing expression faltered, replaced by something softer. “You miss me?”

“Like crazy,” he admitted. “The house doesn’t feel right without you.”

She looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “I miss you too,” she finally whispered.

“So… what do you say? Come home?” he asked, reaching out to gently take her hand in his.

She sighed, trying to act like she wasn’t already planning to say yes. “I guess so.”

Jack grinned, leaning in to kiss her temple. “Good. Because I don’t think I could’ve handled another night without you.”

Maryse gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand. “Let’s go home.”

***

AN: tell me your thotssss

Tag List

(message me if you'd like to be added or removed)

*recently made a new tag list so if your name is missing please let me know*

@harlowsbby @heavyhitterheaux @harlowcomehome @https-harlow @hoodharlow @gazebotori @jackmans-poison @itsyagirljaz @cosypinky2 @theyoganarrative @ann2sno @bugheadfanatic @umicornlove @venic-bxtch @muli-wam @jackharlow502 @slutzzz4jack @aga21 @iknowdatsrightbih @theboujeestofboujee @babygirl-htx @chantelaustingunn @wabi-sabi1090 @dstark-0706 @kkrenae @hufflewhore128 @jackiehollanderr @katiaw2 @firepuma @easternparkway

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow reader #jack harlow x oc #flashing lights #jack harlow x you #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow angst

47 notes · View notes

jello-library · 3 months ago

Text

The Roommate Program (PT 2/?)

Finally part 2!! This one focus more on the reader/self insert!

Also I want to try writing the letters so you can get a feel of what being written instead of just getting vague descriptions!

I hope you enjoy it! 💛

Your first letter from your pen pal was…something else…to say the least. Paired with a prickly friendship bracelet. You felt like you opened Pandora's box with that first letter.

You sigh as you sit down in your office chair looking down at the blank sheet of paper nervously. What in the world do you write back? I mean, writing a letter about yourself is easy but continuing conversations is harder than it looks. What do you say now “Hey I heard you went to solitary confinement was it fun?” Like how you continue talking with him?!

Twirling the pen in your hands your wings twitch and flutter nervously. You joined the program because being a past patient at the Theraprism who managed to opt out of the recarnation ceremony praise the axolotl for that one. You thought it was nice to try to give back to them you know to show that redemption is worth the effort! You felt like you had a pleasant experience there or maybe because you were more cooperative than your peers.

But after the copious amount of interviews and several months of being on the waiting list.

You finally were met with a small envelope congratulating you on your approval into the program and your pen pal. You thought things were finally going well for a chance.

Until…you were brought to have a one-on-one conversation with THE Axolotl themselves you felt like maybe this wasn’t a good idea anymore…They wanted to talk about your pen pal, Bill Cipher. You were somewhat familiar with the name mostly being associated with the chaos he left in his wake.

He was a force to be reckoned with.

Was…

“He is someone who is quite..um…complex..” Look up from your teacup to glance at the other being across the table. The word “Complex” still feels like an understatement to you. The axolotl smiled down at your eyes laced with slight concern before continuing.

“I’ve read your file..” Shit. ”You seem to have been the star patient during your stay. Self-admitted leading to 500,000 years stay before you were released. The top storyteller during puppet hour.“

You can feel yourself getting hot with embarrassment as you sink into your seat. “Yeah, Dr.Oswald says he misses my shows…” You swirl around the remaining tea left within the cup. You don’t know what to say or why they brought you here to begin with. Did all the other participants go through this conversation as well?

“I already know why he joined the program. But I hope for a better outcome than another trip to Wellness Void and I think you can help me with that.”

Looking back down at the blank sheet of paper the pen feels more lighter in your hand now. Just breathe and relax if you mess up you can fix it later.

Dear Bill,

Sorry for my first letter being so plain I can honestly admit I’m a bit nervous about messing this up. I never knew how to talk to someone without it feeling awkward so this is a new step for me. As someone who used to be in the same position you’re in I feel like I can you some advice on how to make your stay less boring! Like, if you want to get out of group therapy it’s time to start taking advantage of art time!

Start doing big projects that take up time with this when art time is over you can ask to stay. But it’s important to say it so can present your piece to the next time group therapy session! Use this advice sparingly those counselors in there are nice but they ain’t dumb! Also if the vending machine is still in the cafeteria hold down on the C button it should give you an extra snack but it’s sadly randomized.

Well, I hope this letter finds you well and also thank you for the bracelet I hope to make you something special when I write to you again!

Sincerely,

██████

#gravity falls x reader #gravity falls #bill cipher x reader #self insert #s/o #the book of bill #x reader #bill cipher #bill ci the triangle guy #gf au #gravity falls au #the roommate program #TRMP AU #gravity falls x black reader #black!y/n #black y/n #black reader #black self ship #black self shipper

55 notes · View notes

thezombieprostitute · 3 months ago

Text

Tech Tuesday: Lloyd Hansen

Summary: It's your first week on the job and you find yourself having to deal with a very angry higher up.

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, Mentions of dub/non con, Power imbalance, SMUT!! Lots of smut. Please let me know if I missed any.

Part 3

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

As you enter your cubicle the morning of the office party there's a package on your desk. It has a note that simply says, "For my good girl." You giggle a bit out of nerves Lloyd is coming on stronger than you like. He definitely has the potential to be a good Sir, and part of you is quite flattered that he's already taking such ownership of you, but you've yet to actually agree to anything.

That was a lesson learned the hard way: talk about your limits before getting into bed. Your last Dom wasn't interested in discussion and you thought that was just his way, that he would at least listen to your color codes and safe-word. If it weren't for the club's owners you don't doubt you would have ended up in the hospital. Still, you've yet to go back for fear of trusting another Sir. At the very least, though, you can tell Lloyd that you need to talk before you accept his gifts, his ownership.

You decide to use the gift as an excuse to visit him in his office, later in the day. Leaving your desk for your break time, you walk to Lloyd's office and knock on the door.

"Enter," he barks. His angry look melts away a little when he sees you. "Maestro! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You close the door behind you before taking a seat across from him and setting his gift on the desk. He frowns. "I just...I need to make sure...I'm sure you're a good Dom, a good Sir, but I need..."

His eyes soften, "limits and boundaries. Even before you get a taste of the goods?"

You nod, "last time I did that I got hurt." Lloyd's jaw tightens at that. "So I promised myself I would never do that again. I need to talk about limits and I need to know you'll respect them. Given that you haven't been putting my job at risk since I talked to you, I think I can trust you on that front. But I'm not accepting a gift from you until we talk."

"Absolutely," Lloyd agrees, his attitude is all business. He pulls out some paper and a couple of pens. "Let's go ahead and write down things as we talk, okay?"

"Thank you, Sir."

You return to your desk feeling much lighter, maybe even giddy. It's been so long since you've had your needs met. And you're sure Lloyd's going to satisfy. He was asking all the right questions, giving all the right reassurances. He treated your needs and concerns with all the seriousness you weren't sure he was capable of.

Letting yourself get back into the swing of things at work, you almost forget about the gift Lloyd got you: an angel costume. Nothing fancy, but definitely cute with just the right amount of naughtiness. You're to put it on before visiting him in his office after the party starts.

A few minutes after the party starts, you sneak your way to the floor of Lloyd's office. Finding a bathroom nearby, you use that to switch into the angel costume. You feel so giddy and hopeful as you look at yourself in the mirror. You don't know how he guessed your size so accurately, but the skimpy costume fits quite well.

Peeking out the door to make sure there's no one who will see you, you quickly skitter to Lloyd's office and knock on the door.

"Enter," he barks. You do so, making sure to close and lock the door behind you. You turn towards him and await his command. Because you're keeping your head down, you don't see Lloyd licking his lips at how good you look. "Come here," he orders and you're quickly at his side, kneeling in obedience to his hand gesture. He cups your face with his large hand, making you look up at him. "Put your work clothes under your knees," he purrs. "I don't want you to hurt yourself on this god awful floor."

"Thank you, Sir," you chirp as you obey.

When you're settled at his feet, Lloyd starts caressing your cheek and you lean into his touch. "You're absolutely gorgeous," he comments. "I can't wait to ruin you in all the best ways." He smiles at your whimper. "I wonder how responsive you'll be when I'm teasing that pussy of yours with my fingers. I'll bet you've never been fucked by such a large hand, have you?"

"No, Sir," you breathe, desire quickly building in your core.

"I wonder how many of these fingers that hole of yours can take," he ponders. "Maybe a good girl like you just needs one or two." He grips your chin, "or are you a little slut who can take my whole hand?" You let out a bit of a strangled mewl as your pussy clenches around nothing, imagining those hands on you. He moves his thumb to your lips and you automatically open your mouth, making him chuckle. "Not yet, Maestro. First, let's give your hands a test run. Unbutton me."

Wasting no time your hands work to undo Lloyd's belt so you could get to the button of his pants. The outline of his erection has you biting your lower lip. You want to unzip him, to gag on his cock, but you were only ordered to unbutton him so that's all you do.

Lloyd caresses your cheek again, "do you see something you like, Maestro?"

"Yes, Sir," you whine.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he orders.

"I want to choke on your cock, Sir," you confess, a little bashful.

Lloyd moans and you see a twitch beneath his pants. "Take my dick out and give it a kiss." You're quick to obey, your breath hitching at the size of him, before kissing the tip. "Good girl," he coos. "Now choke yourself on my cock. And yes, you can use your tits as well."

Lowering the shirt of the angel costume, you let your breasts out and use them to sandwich his cock while you set to work on the tip of his dick. You build up speed as you take more and more of him in your mouth, rewarded by his moans as he pats your head. You feel your saliva dripping onto your breasts and use it to massage his length even more. You're occasionally choking on him as you repeatedly take him to the back of your throat.

"Look at me," Lloyd growls, and your eyes immediately turn to him. "Fuck, that's it, that's a good girl," he praises. "Haven't had a proper suck in so long. Wonder if I should cum down that slutty throat of yours or all across those gorgeous tits. Maybe even all over that pretty face." You whimper, trying not to get distracted by your needy pussy. "You like that? You want me to cum all over your face? Mark you with my cum?" Lloyd smiles at your needy whine.

He grabs your hair, stilling you, "hands on my legs, Maestro. Remember, three taps to get me to stop." You give a little nod and place your hands accordingly before he starts roughly pushing you down on his dick. You're repeatedly gagging, gasping for air as you struggle to breath through your nose, but your pussy is dripping wet from the rough treatment and the noises of pleasure coming from Lloyd. "Shit, your mouth feels so good," he moans. "Taking me like the good slut you are. Fuck! I'm gonna cum all over your body. Gonna claim every singe inch of your body as mine."

Without warning he almost throws you back and you gasp for air. "Press those tits together and keep that gorgeous mouth open," he orders. You do so and your vision clears enough that you see Lloyd jerking himself off, making you open your mouth wider. "Fuck, Maestro. Such a good girl for me, making me cum so fast and so. Fucking. Hard." His cum splatters all over your chest, some of it getting onto your face.

He catches his breath but you don't move, just staying in the position you were ordered to, despite how needy your pussy was feeling.

He pets the top of your head again, "you were such a good girl for me. Did really good for our first time together. I think you deserve a reward." You whimper at that and he chuckles. "Stand up," he orders, and you do so. He grabs your clothes and lays them down on his desk, "lay down on your back."

It takes you a little help from him because of how big his desk is, but soon you're laying on your clothes, legs spread, silently begging Lloyd to fill your pussy. He places his palm over your mound and uses one of his fingers to play with your hole making you quietly whine.

"You're a good slut for me," he teases. "So damn wet I could probably slide my cock right in." He quickly pushes one of his fingers into you, up to the knuckle and arch your back, desperate for more. Lloyd leans over you, putting his arms on each side of you, "we don't want to get caught, so I'm going to need you to keep quiet. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir," you nod fervently.

"If you want something to bite down on, let me know."

"Thank you, Sir."

Lloyd moves one of his arms down your front and resumes teasing you as he kisses down to your breasts, licking some of his own cum off of you. He uses his tongue on one of your nipples, alternating between licking and sucking. His hand roughly shoves two fingers inside your cunt and you arch back, eyes rolling in pleasure as scissors them in and out of you at a harsh pace.

"Sir, Sir, please, Sir, thank you, Sir, please, Sir, Sir---" you clamp your hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet as you cum, clenching around Lloyd's large fingers. He continues finger fucking you until you've come down a little.

"Good girl," he purrs. "Keeping quiet like I told you to. Did you enjoy my fingers?"

"Yes, Sir," your voice is raspy.

"You look so pretty when you cum," he grins. He lowers himself so his face is between your legs. "Let's see how many more I can get out of you."

Part 3

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory;

@late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @ronearoundblindly; @lokislady82

#tech tuesday #tech tuesday: lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x female!reader #lloyd hansen x reader

90 notes · View notes

slvthrs · 2 years ago

Note

okay well now i need more dealer!vinnie x reader 😫

ofc babes!!

STARGIRL INTERLUDE | vinnie hacker

— MINORS PLEASE FUCK OFF FOR UR OWN GOOD —

after you and your drug dealer start dating and he just can't help feeling just a little too possessive of you

DRUG DEALER!VINNIE X FEM!READER

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT MINORS DNI, use of drugs, relationship sex, degradation n praise kink, pet names, unprotected sex (use birth control idiots), choking, jealous/possessive vinnie, daddy kink, spanking

word count: 1.7k

Me and Vinnie had been dating for nearly a month and we were planning to celebrate our anniversary by going to have dinner at his apartment but we both had to go to our friend's house for different reasons- I was there to support my best friend during her birthday party and he was there to sell drugs.

So cut to me currently sitting in front of my mirror doing my makeup- it’s was my everyday look of black smudged eyeliner but I added some shimmer on my eyelids to make them pop and added a deep red almost black lipstick to the middle of my lips and smudged it out- Vinnie’s favorite.

I fluffed up my hair and tried to find some sort of hairstyle to wear but I just ended up wearing it down. I was wearing a mini skirt with a red corset top- I was wearing a jumble of rings and necklaces along with his silver choker from hard jewellery. On my feet were platforms along with knee high black lace socks and to finish the outfit I was wearing Vinnie’s oversized leather jacket.

I had finished my makeup and now I was sitting on my bed grabbing the stuff to put into my black purse- my phone, airpods, cigarette box, money, ID, lighter and my weed pen. That was when Vinnie walked into the room and looked at me with a sort of excitement which I then realized was due to the fact I was wearing his jacket and just in general of how good I looked.

“Peaches” God I loved that pet name, he sat in front of me on the bed, “You look so fucking good” he sad planting a kiss on my lips,

I giggled against his lips, and he continued “Do we have to go out, I bet Chloe won’t even know your missing” he argued

“Babe, it’s Chloe. I’ve known her since forever c’mon we just have to make an appearance and you have people who expect you to be there” I say with a pout and then drag him off our bed and then plant a kiss on his temple.

He was wearing a white david bowie top along with boyfriend jeans in blue and some nike air forces. The outfit was completed with gold rings on his hand and a gold necklace around his neck. To put is easily he looked fucking amazing I ruffled up his blond locks a bit and planted a kiss on his lips and pull him out of the apartment.

We end up situated in his car and I connect my phone to the aux and scroll through my spotify to find a good song but I just end up putting my likes on shuffled and it ends up on ‘Stargirl Interlude’ and I start dancing in my seat and lip syncing to the song,

“I had a vision,

A vision of my nails in the kitchen,

Scratching counter tops, I was screaming,

My back arched like a cat, my position couldn't stop you were hitting it”

The lyrics just end up causing Vinnie to end up in a fit of laughter and I end up smacking his arms and asking him to stop acting like a middle schooler with fake offense in my voice,

“Holy shit what is this song called” He asks while trying to compose himself, I just grin at him and tell him it's called Stargirl Interlude,

“Oh wait it’s like the song you made me listen to um what was it OH WAIT STARBOY” He exclaims and I just nod at him chuckling at myself,

“So wait if I’m Starboy does that make you my Stargirl” He asks and I think about it, “Hmm I guess so, I’m your stargirl” he just laughs, “You bet you are,” and then he kisses me again

— — TIME SKIP — —

We’ve been at Chloe’s party for about 3 hours and both of us want to leave but Vinnie has one more thing he has to do so I just end up waiting for him while on my phone when a guy come up to me,

“Oh hey I saw you from across the dance floor, you look really pretty” He says, he’s about 6 foot, and is wearing a black dress top and black jeans, damn nice clothes,

“Oh thanks” I saw with a friendly smile hoping to end this conversation

“I was wondering if I could get your number your just like really hot” Fuck this is going to be an annoying conversation

“Uhm actually I have a boyfriend so no thanks” I say trying to be as nice as possible

“Oh c’mon I don’t see him anywhere” He says trying to convince me

“He’s in the back and I’m seriously not interested” I say backing up but eventually hitting a counter

He keeps trying to get my number for about 3 more minutes while I keep telling him to stop until I meet Vinnie’s eyes across the room in front of the door looking like he’s about to hurt someone, and that's when I remember that it might look like something entirely different to him.

I maneuver around the guy and I run to Vinnie who is almost outside the door as I call out his name, “Vinnie just listen to me!” I yell and all he does is tell me is to get into his car

We just sit in the silence waiting for eachother to say something, we don’t say anything until we get into the apartment and as soon as the door closes he’s on me.

His lips smash onto mine as I’m pressed on the door and he’s pulling my jacket off, “I thought I was gonna go crazy seeing you flirt with him” He says as he pulls his lips off mine and onto my neck.

“Vinnie, fuck, I wasn’t flirting with him” I moan out

“Fuck, I know baby I know but I need to remind you who you belong to got it?” He says it like it's a question but it’s a statement, a command and a promise.

He pulls me off the door and I’m bent over his countertop with him pulling of my skirt and my panties in one swift motion and smacking my ass causing me to yelp and he grabs the base of my neck making me look up at him into his eyes that have darkened with something more sinister,

“I’m gonna make sure the only thing you can say after this is my fucking name, got it whore?” He says while slapping my ass again causing me to moan a ‘yes daddy’ under my breath

He takes his dick out, pumping it a bit and then running it through my folds and slamming it into me, gaining some of the most porngraphic moans that have ever left my mouth.

He places his finger around the choker on my neck and then pulls my head back and then spits in my mouth, “C’mon whore swallow it” he says as his eyes narrow and darken

His hands don’t leave my neck instead they let go of my choker and now he’s choking me letting me see stars, it doesn’t take long for my orgasm to come crashing as I cum around his dick.

He pulls me off and then spins me around and picks me up and takes me to his room and places me on his bed but he doesn’t join me he gets up and walks to the living room to grab my purse and pulls out my weed pen.

He sits in front of me and takes two puffs of the pen and then pulls my mouth close to him and blows the smoke into my mouth, the mixture of the weed and the eroticness of the situation makes my head spin and I pull Vinnie into a messy kiss still recovering from my post oragasm haze.

I climb on top of him and I rub his dick with my cunt making him moan in my mouth and letting me relish in the power I have. But it doesn’t last long until he’s pulling me off of him and pushing me on the bed and climbing on top of me to fuck me.

He lines his dick up with me and slams into me again causing me to tip back my head and arch into him, I claw at his shirt and he gets the hint and pulls his shit of but not before he pulls of my shirt and I run my hands up from his abs up to his chest and I start biting in hickies into his chest until I grab his hands and start kissing his finger and then put the digits into my mouth swirling them around with my tongue and sucking on them as if they were his dick.

I open my eyes to see him staring deep into me just watching as I suck on his finger, he’s so focused on looking and me that he’s stopped moving and is just staring, “God your such a whore for me aren’t you, your my little bitch” I don’t respond I just moan around him finger and pull them out with a pop!

He takes the hand I was just sucking on and brings them to my clit and starts circling it and continues thrusting into me chasing his own orgasm, I’m so close that my legs are shaking and I’m about to cry while he just places a kiss on my lips and continues his agonizing pace.

He finally cums after I cum for a second time and pulls out of me rolling over and he gets up to walk to the bathroom to grab a towel to clean me up and then finally lays down next to me grabbing the weed pen, and doing a few puffs before he passes the pen to me letting me take a few puffs before I succumb to my tiredness but not before he kisses me and calls me “My precious girl” as he cuddles up next to me and we succumb to our exhaustion.

#bella fawns over vhacker #vinnie hacker smut #vinnie hacker x reader smut #vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie hacker imagines #vhackerr #vincent hacker #vinnie hacker oneshot #vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker x you #vinnie x reader #vinnie imagines #vinnie #bella's full works

468 notes · View notes

derww · 3 months ago

Text

DAY 15: TREASURE

A young man stands in his bedroom. He would like to lay down on his bed, but on it, right across, is a red-haired menace, sweetly sniffing in his sleep. As a good teammate and friend, he kicks him a couple of times, but the guy doesn't even think to wake up; he's too comfortable in someone else's room and someone else's bed, so he rolls his eyes, gives up, takes his pillow, and knocks on the door next to his. The door is unlocked, but he still waits for permission before entering.

Subz's room is somewhat similar to his; it also has a lot of light and fun. But it is much more chaotic: none of the surfaces are made of appropriate materials, clothes, papers, and garbage are scattered everywhere, and an iron golem is dancing in the middle. But it has a bed. And ItzSubz_. ItzSubz_ was an important addition.

– Hi, – Subz waves at him, but does not turn around – he is working with the plans of his current project. Zam doesn't peek – he doesn't want to violate Subz's personal lines, – we haven't seen each other for a long time, – this is an irony: just a couple of hours ago they had a dinner together, where they threw food at each other and discussed whether to invite Spoke to the next game night. The final decision was just to see if he would show up on his own.

– Vi stole my bed again,– he says, and then throws his pillow across the room, onto Subz's bed, and lands on the bed after.

– Is that why you decided to steal mine? – Subz sarcastically clarifies, pausing to look at him. There is a strange warmth in his gaze, – And where do I sleep, in Vi's catacombs, right under the bookban?

–Why, – he grumbles, looking for a suitable sleeping position, – sleep with me. The three of us once slept in the same bed. – Subz's mattress is much tougher than his, it almost does not bend and retains its shape, but Zam has been sleeping on the floor for several months, so he does not mind.

– Well, then why don't you sleep with Vi, – Subz objects, but it's obvious that he's not serious, that he doesn't mind him being here, just joking. – Vi is soft. He will be your dakimakura.

– You know how he can be, – he remarks with a yawn, – he fills the whole space with himself. You have to either sleep on the floor or lie down on top of him. Thanks, I'll pass.

– Everything comes with the time, – Subz calmly answers, and Zam, finally finding a comfortable position, throws a blanket over himself – no, rather even a plaid knitted by Subz himself, lighter and not so warm, covered with moons – and finally closes his eyes. He is used to sleeping in the light, but he notices that Subz muffles it, and a smile spreads across his face.

He feels himself... at peace with the world around. His body doesn't seem to weight anything, and the soft plaid wraps around him, and the muted light touches his eyelids, and the methodical creaking of the pen drives him into a trance. He almost falls asleep when the sound subsides, and then the mattress bends and Subz slips under the blanket next to him. He doesn't hug him, but the bed is narrow enough for them to touch each other indelibly, and for some reason it feels insanely intimate. Having found his place, Subz reaches out to stroke his hair, and he does not dare to move.

– Good night, Zam.

– Good night, Subz, – he whispers back.

He can't sleep for another half an hour because of how fast his heart is beating. He wonders if Subz notices. But, in the end, he still manages to fall asleep.

He doesn't remember very well what he's dreaming about. That's what he remembers exactly: he doesn't like this dream. When he wakes up, he feels one thing: relief. He tries to be as careful as possible, but Subz still wakes up.

– Two o'clock in the morning? – he asks skeptically, checking communicator, – seriously? We have a day off, and you jumped up in the middle of the night.

For them, every day is a day off. He sighs.

– Bad dream, I'm going for a walk.

Subz looks at him attentively, almost without blinking. And then, in a few quick movements, he gets out of bed and stands in front of him. Zam tries to persuade him to go back to sleep, but it's useless, and he gives up.

Vi has already woken up; he is lying on the floor in the main hall and reading a book – Zam does not recognize the author. Noticing them, he stands up and waves, smiling.

– Hi guys! – radiating the power of a thousand suns, – how are you?

– Zam had a nightmare, we are going to the surface, – Subz sums up.

– I'm with y'all, – Vi instantly replies, and while Zam is choking on a hundred words, Subz shrugs his shoulders, and the three of them leave the base. In the process, Vi feeds Zam an assortment of caramels and a scattering of sweet berries. Zam quickly comes to terms with it.

Predictably, it is night on the surface. It's peaceful here: they live far from everyone else, and such moments enchant with a sense of communal loneliness. Rejection of reality. Being in your place.

– It's not bad up here,– Subz shares, and Vi, smiling, elbows him:

– Then start going outside at last! Touch some grass more often than once a month.

– I'm not so hopeless, – Subz grumbles, – and I'm busy; the project won't make itself.

– Can't you design it, I don't know, – Vi gestures strangely, clearly unable to catch the right word, – while here? In nature? Not that anyone would bother you!

– It's noisy, – Subz refuses, – nature is loud, the light is of the wrong strength and direction; the wind is too strong. I appreciate my comfort; thank you very much. – Vi giggles as if he finds it funny, but does not continue.

They walk under the twinkling moon together, talking and joking. Zam doesn't say anything about it, but Vi gives him his cloak, and of course he feels warmer now, but he stares at Vi's true form now and can't get enough of it. In front of strangers, Vi didn't even show his nose from under his hood, and the fact that he made him feel freer than ever was liberating in its own way. He, lost in thought, collects flowers along the way and then weaves them into a wreath and puts it on Vi's head, and Vi smiles, and Vi hugs him tightly, and Vi says that he loves it, and Zam really, really wants to be happy.

Its... peaceful. No one bothers them. They are completely safe and just enjoying the common moment, and it is easy for him to forget about a bad dream and any other worries. They return back to the base right before dawn, and he asks to give him some time alone, and Vi and Subz, after exchanging glances, nod. No matter how close they are, the moment they see that he needs space, they give it to him.

Once alone, he goes out into an empty village full of traces of his stay and forces himself to take a deep breath. The air smells of cinnamon for some reason. Slowly, as if reluctantly, it begins to dawn. He stares at the faint outline of his shoes in the gloom, knowing that they are smeared in mud. Something in all this doesn't sit right with him.

He eventually raises his head.

The sky is full of life. There, billions of light years away, civilizations die and are born, and space travelers plow the void in search of adventures, putting their lives on the line again and again. But none of it belonged to him, and that's why the richly painted canvas seems so empty and flat.

The silvery-white stars winking at him seem to be glued to the hemisphere of the ceiling. Each of the countless myriad placers looked through him like an ugly panopticon. Every single one of them didn't care.

The color of the sky is just slightly too blue – barely enough for him to notice. The moon hanging above him lacks only a crescent moon to become full. This time, the void has nothing to offer him.

#lifestealtober2024 #d.fics #princezam #vitalasy #itzubz_#eclipse federation #fanfiction #hi candy john

45 notes · View notes

trashmouth-richie · 1 year ago

Text

Series summary: Hawkins Annual Halloween Festival is in town, and this year you and your friends were lucky enough to work the event. But when some of your co-workers are missing, and a trail of blood leads to the woods behind the festival. Your friends work together to find out what’s going on. A killer is on the loose but who could it be? Or is it the town’s spooky secret of what really happened at Hawkins Lab?

ch 1: FLICKER

ch 2: A SCREAM AND A SLICE

ch 3: THE ROCKSTAR AND THR REDLIGHTS

chapter summary: flashbacks provide some insight on our favorite metalhead.

chapter trigger warnings: 18+ only, character death, references to child neglect, upside down references, poor parenting practices, etc, blood, character death, killer reveal.

CH. 4: FAMILY VALUES

1974

The tires on Evil Kneivel’s Stunt Bike trudged through the familiar path of the bare thread carpet in the back bedroom of trailer 8 in Forest Hills Trailer Park. Eddie was on his stomach, ignoring the rumbling noise from the hollow emptiness in his belly, he pressed his lips together to vibrate a motorcycle sound through his mouth, casually blowing dark curls from his vision.

An annoyed huff echoed across the thin walls, “This is boring,” Billy snarled, he was laying flat on Eddie’s bed, feet on the wall, throwing up his stretch Armstrong to himself before tossing it across the room, landing with a splat on the broken closet door.

Eddie pushed himself up from the carpet, the fibers itching through the holes in his jeans and scratching his knees.

He shrugs, running his tongue through the gap of his latest pulled tooth, “wanna see my guitar?”

“No,” Billy huffed, his thumb nail catching along the ridges of the zippo lighter he had stolen from Melvalds, lighting a small flame that he quickly extinguished with the flip of the lid. “I wanna do something fun.”

“Alright then, genius,” Eddie scowls, sitting next to Billy on the brown and burgundy ripped threads of an afghan blanket, “what do you have in mind?”

Billy swings his feet around, landing with ease and standing before his friend, the smirk on Billy’s face was one Eddie knew all too well.

—

Neil and Al didn’t hear the boys sneak out from the back room, too drunk and elbow deep in “work” to notice their sons had pushed the screen outward and hopped down to the ground.

“The instructions are clear, Al,” Neil said, his mouth around a can of Pabst, scrubbing a dirty thumbnail through his eyebrow, “here let me see that.”

Al blows a cloud of smoke into the air, handing over the poorly written note on the back of the Hideout napkin, clad with ketchup stains and spilled coffee. “Don’t know how you can even read this shit.”

“I can read that’s how I can read it dumb fuck,” Neil snapped, grabbing the napkin from him, he looks over the scratchy pen marks, pointing at the instructions again, “see right there, Creel laid it all out for us.”

“Okay wise ass, but it doesn’t make sense. How the hell are we supposed to break int- into that place without anyone seeing us?” Al puts the butt of his cigarette into the overflowing ashtray, blowing smoke around the side of his mouth. “It’s under surveillance and the guards are armed.”

“The guards are armed.” Neil mocks, “Jesus Christ you sound just like a woman, how many cars have we boosted?”

“That’s different, easy. Breaking into a secret government lab? This is above our pay grade, and your skill level.”

“Yeah and your big brains are why you got fired from the mill right?”

“Shit,” Al downplays, “they didn’t pay worth a damn, boosting and dealin’ keep my pockets lined just fine.”

“If only it was enough to keep Liz around right?”

“Don’t say that bitch’s name in this house, I’ll slit your throat and use it for an ashtray, Hargrove.”

“Ahh shit,” Neil quips, “don’t get your panties wadded up, but back to this,” he says waving the napkin around, “the tunnels, that’s our way in.”

—-

Eddie’s van is barreling down the highway like a bat out of hell. Nancy hasn’t stopped crying, slowly wiping her tears, with the front of her shirt, sniffling every so often.

You’re grief stricken, numb to whatever the hell just happened, and what those things even were— and to top it all off, Eddie somehow knows?

Steve is leaning on the center console between you and Eddie, back seat driving and giving him directions on how to get to his house.

At first Eddie had thought about going to his trailer, he knew his dad and Wayne kept their rifles in the back shed, but decided against it at the last minute, hollering over his shoulder for anyone having an idea of where to go.

How safe could he keep everyone if his house was bordering on enemy lines?

—-

1983

The Hargrove’s house was nestled on Cherry. Older but comfortable, a damn sight better than the paper thin walls of the trailer, and the soggy couch that reeked of spilt beer.

Billy was going on and on about his girlfriends, yes plural. The blonde haired Gina or was it Jenny? And Tanya, the rich one who lived by Steve Harrington.

Junior year was different for the boys, where Billy excelled in popularity with the jocks being a basketball star, Eddie fell into a different crowd, the Hellfire Club.

They were still friends, still causing trouble on nights you couldn’t hang out, Billy now refusing entirely to hang out with Eddie when you were around, which you weren’t complaining about.

Eddie takes another swig of Mt. Dew and continues drawing a rogue for one of the older guys, Nico, in Hellfire. He was only half listening to the way Billy was describing the differences between the girls, body type mostly.

“If you want in on the action big boy just let me know, Gina loves hearing Metallica play when we steam up the windows in my car if ya know what I mean,” the cigarette hanging limply from his lips wiggled as he spoke, sending ashes down to his black converse.

Eddie immediately thought of you. He wasn’t sure of his feelings when it came to you but he wondered if you’d be weirded out that Billy was planning to get him a date. How would you feel if he went out with some chick?

The idea of you kissing someone made his stomach turn, and not in a butterfly way.

Instead of listening to Billy bitch about how much he can’t stand you and how you’re holding Eddie back he just went along with it, “yeah man, sounds good.”

“Sounds good?” Billy questions, racking the weights he was lifting with a thud, checking his traps in his reflection, shooting a look over his shoulder, “I’m trying to get you laid, dude.”

Eddie looks up from his seated position in the corner of Billy’s room, his fingers were silvery from shading the lines of his drawing, pinked eraser rubberings littered the front of his new Metallica shirt. “Yeah man, I’m down, what’s her number.”

Eddie wrote the number on the corner of his paper, barely registering what else Billy was saying, his mind wandering to what kind of shit his dad was up to this time.

Al was home for a longer stretch than normal this time, but he seemed to spend every waking minute at the Hargrove’s.

Eddie wasn’t dumb enough to think that his dad actually wanted to hangout with him.

Oh no, Al Munson had his priorities whenever he came back to Hawkins with his tail between his legs, and seeing his only son wasn't the top of the list.

He went to the bar first, picking out the waitress with zero confidence, saying all the right things and tipping her just enough to make her think she was really something. When her shift was over, he’d bring her to a sleazy by-the-hour motel, giving her the ol’ Munson magic and then, when she was in the shower or cleaning up in the bathroom, he’d bolt. Driving to the nearest gas station casino and spending whatever money the waitress had in her purse.

He’d finally crawl back to Wayne’s when he was bone dry, claiming he was home “for good this time!” And how he, “just wanted to hangout with my boy!”

Turns out the “hanging out” was going over to Neil’s and getting shitfaced drunk, bringing Eddie to tag along, to prove to his brother that he was a good dad. He failed to mention that Eddie would end up locked in Billy’s room until dawn.

So no, getting laid wasn’t on Eddie’s mind right now.

“I told Tommy H to leave you alone, told him I’d fuck his girlfriend again if I caught wind of him messing with you.” Billy said, shoving his chest out proudly. Maybe if he helped Eddie spread his wings, he’d stop getting picked on, but in Billy’s eyes, Eddie brought alot of it on himself sticking up for those fucking nerds he always hung out with.

The Hargrove kitchen table was covered in the same paperwork they always were when Al came over. Weird haikus, and riddles that were partly solved, a timeline of when and where everything needed to take place, and lastly, a complete blueprint of Lonnie Byers’ house.

Everything was just about set in stone, the only thing the men couldn’t figure out is why Creel had decided that it had to be Lonnie’s son as the baited sacrifice. And whenever they asked, Creel would say the same thing, “an eye for an eye.”

—

1986

“Right here,” Steve said, pointing his hand in Eddie’s face and out the window to his big behemoth of a house.

The kind of house that belonged to a homeowners society, telling you when, where, and how to water and mow your grass. Not the type of neighborhood that housed the brown piece of shit on wheels that was arriving into the Harrington driveway at record speeds.

Steve fumbled with the door and had to pry Nancy away from the van, she was petrified, her body shaking and tense, beneath his arm.

Eddie turns to you, tapping you gently on the shoulder and when you don’t move he guides your chin towards him, his heart breaking at the sight of your tear filled eyes.

“I’m gonna keep you safe, okay?” His eyes were large and the worry on his face only made you more scared, but he tried to put on a brave face for you, “c’mon, we gotta get inside.”

Steve’s home was decorated with expensive paintings and gold fixtures. The kind of decor that wasn't available at a mall but ordered from some lavish designer in New York. The living room had vacuum lines in the carpet, as if it were never used. The wood floors in the foyer sparkled from the overhead chandelier, it was a catalog home, looking as if it were staged for a photo

shoot rather than people actually living in it.

Nancy’s cries echoed loudly around the empty Harrington home, Steve scooped her up like an infant and carried her down the carpeted steps to the open basement.

Eddie still wasn’t acting like himself, his eyes were clouded over with something you couldn’t pinpoint, plagued with grief? But you felt reassured when his fingers curled into the spaces between yours as you followed Steve and Nancy to the basement.

—

NOVEMBER 9, 1983

“You working tonight?” Eddie asks at your locker, ringed fingers working over the corners of a Polaroid of you and him last summer when he tried to teach you how to skateboard. One of his favorite memories.

“Nope,” you answer from deep inside your locker, looking for the crumbled history notes you swore you still had for todays test, emerging from the locker and hitting your head on the way out, “ow fuck! Nah I’m off tonight, Don closed since Joyce’s son has been gone, why what’s up?”

Eddie shuts your locker and shifts his worn notebook to his other hand, “it’s Wednesday, the Hawk has free popcorn, thought maybe we could see a movie?”

It wasn’t weird for two friends to go to a movie together, you and Eddie had done it multiple times. Completely casual. Even if the heat from his fingers bumping against yours sent flutters to your stomach and he quickly moved his hand like you were a snake that had bit him, a blush forming on his cheeks.

“What time?”

“I dunno, seven? Pick ya up at 6:30, that way we can stop and get snacks to sneak some snacks in to go with our free popcorn.”

His boyish grin was the same from when you were kids, dimple dipped cheeks, and the darkest eyes twinkling with mischievous glee.

The door to Mr. Stanley’s Chem 210 was open and you stopped before going in the classroom to give Eddie your answer, “fine, but I want twizzlers.”

—

“What the hell do you mean it’s not enough? We did exactly what you said, solved each fucking riddle!”

The weathered boards of the Creel House groan as a screaming gust of wind slaps loud against the old home, the late winter storm rattled the wooden foundation and pelted the window panes with ice, pinging loudly with each large gale that forced its way through the cracks of the poorly maintained home.

A small fire crackled in the sunken fireplace, wafting dark plumes of smoke into the living room and ashing soot onto the cobweb covered furniture.

“He makes the rules, I do not, I am simply a messenger, a ves—,” a tattered mitten hand cups around his mouth, acting as a poor excuse for a shield against a barking, wet cough. Lungs burning with each wheeze of oxygen leaving. He clears his throat when the fit is over, wiping his mouth with a moth bitten scarf around his sagging neck, leaving blood behind, “..vessel, I don’t make the rules, Neil.”

“A what?” Al quizzes, shifting uncomfortably from his left leg to his right, “we delivered that kid exactly where you told us to! The whole town thinks he’s dead! Hawkins PD put out the report last night that a body was found by the quarry.”

Creel pokes the fire with the blunt end of his cane, crumbling a reddened log into pieces, adding a wadded mass of newspaper, the face of Will Byers’ missing poster front and center, his cherub smile warping with the heated flame.

“The boy is hiding somewhere. The creatures can not find him, he is convinced that there is help from our side.”

“Impossible,” Al scoffed, rubbing the cold of his nose on his sleeve, “I just talked to Chief Hopper at the Hideaway last night, and according to him it’s a closed case, Lonnie and his former ol lady were making funeral arrangements.”

“What you hear, and what you see, seem different ways to hold the key.”

“Enough with the psychological bullshit!” Neil yelled throwing his beer across the living room, “tell us what he needs from us.”

The blackened tooth smile creeps onto Creel’s face his red chapped lips split and bleed, and he holds back his cough just long enough to whispers the same fallacy he was given only hours before, in another dimension identical to this one.

“A son.”

—

The wind was ripping snow across the streets of Hawkins. The windshield wipers on Eddie’s van had frozen in place, stopping half way in the middle of the windshield, the shitty wipers no match against the freezing, winter rain.

You were certain that the seat belt in the passenger seat had never been used before tonight, but Eddie was insistent that you wore it, foregoing his own with a you’re kidding right? look. The whites of your knuckles shine bright with each overhead street lamp that dances lazily on the windshield, and Eddie looks over with a laugh.

“Almost there Pebs,” he mumbles, his mouth snug around the filter of a cigarette, a half smirk on his lips, “don’t worry.”

The storm foiled more plans than just good driving conditions, apparently The Hawk had closed earlier that day when the windchill dipped down to the negatives, Sal ensuring that his employees had plenty of time to get home before the weather took a turn for the worst. Thankfully Family Video was still open, and Eddie’s trailer was empty for the night, save for a couple of beers in the fridge and the heat from an electric blanket. Apparently the manager of Family Video didn’t give a fuck about the roads, neither did the factory.

You and Eddie were met with the rolling eyes of Steve Harrington as you two shoved each other out of the way to get into the door first, bringing with you a cold gust of wind and chattering teeth. After securing The Poltergeist and two boxes of peanut M&M’s, you and Eddie were tucked into the tin can death trap on wheels, trekking slowly to Forest Hills Trailer Park.

The bumpy driveway was nearly covered by the falling ice and snow, causing Eddie to slide into his parking spot, well the front yard, of trailer 8. Before he jiggles the key out of the ignition, a man’s shadow illuminated the front door, the burning end of a cigarette glowing on a presumed inhale, and Eddie mutters a ‘fuck’ under his breath.

“Stay here, okay?” He says with a shallow voice, his eyes never leaving the front door of the trailer, “I’ll be right back.”

What the hell was his dad doing at home this time? Maybe he was confused, thinking it was Thanksgiving already— probably wondering where the turkey and green bean casserole were.

The door of the van groans as Eddie pushes it open with his shoe, slamming it shut and hearing the crinkle of built up ice breaking away from the frame. Ice was gathering in his hair as he scurried up the steps, the shadow moving away from the door so Eddie could come inside, and once the threshold was breached, he wasn’t surprised to see his dad standing in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette, long fingers wrapped around a can of Wayne’s breakfast PBR.

“There’s my boy,” Al greeted with a false tone of cheer laced in his voice, “only been waiting here for an hour, I need your help with somethin’.”

“Sorry,” Eddie mutters, shutting the door tight and shaking his hair free of the elements, “must have lost my schedule on your flight arrival.”

“Watch it,” Al snaps, his eyes are bloodshot and dark rimmed, voice gravelly, “I’m in no mood for your shit tonight, alright?”

Eddie tuts through his teeth and shoulder checks his old man before walking to the living room, pulling the cord from the wall jack, unplugging the tv. Holding it against his hip to bring it to his room.

“What the hell man, I was gonna watch that!” Al yells as Eddie trudges into his room, shoving shit off his dresser with a sweep of his arm, putting the small tv down he turns to find his dad right behind him, glaring menacingly at him, nose to nose.

“The rabbit ears haven’t worked in months, guess you’ll have to go to Neil’s..”

His insult is cut short as Al grabs him by the lapels of his denim vest, shoving him into the closet door, busting it off the sliding track.

“Listen to me you little fuck…” Al spits, literally into Eddie’s face, “I said I’m not in the mood for your shit tonight, ya got me? I need your fucking help for once in your life, can you manage that?”

“Get off me,” Eddie sneers back, trying to hide the trembling in his jaw as he grits his teeth, “I’m serious.”

I'm serious, Dad! Al mocks, shoving Eddie harder into the closet, the splintering wood busting beneath his shoulder blades. “I ain’t ever asked you for nothin’ in your whole damn life, let you live here with Wayne, no rules no nothin’ and now it’s time to pay up. I need a favor.”

His eyes were shocking in a desperate way, anger riddling his irises.

Eddie thinks fast to his underwear drawer, the wad of cash shoved into an old sock underneath a sticky playboy, “I don’t sell whatever you’re on, and I don’t have any cash.”

“Ain’t about money, or horse, Eddie boy, you remember my friend, the one that lives in the old house on Morehead?”

Eddie thinks back to all the “friends” Al had ever introduced him to. There was Bud the one who owned the bowling alley in Bridgeport that had a fake eye and an gnarly looking scar on his face from a dog bite, Willy Jack who helped take the plates off of the van and scratch up the VIN number when they stole it from that scrap yard north of town, he even painted it any color Eddie wanted, but somehow the friend he was talking about wasn’t registering.

Raising an eyebrow, Eddie shakes his head no. “Doesn’t matter,” Al said all too quick, “his son has been missin’ see, for years, and we need your boys’ help finding him.”

“Who’s we?” Eddie asks, finally wiggling free from his dads hands, straightening his jacket, “and why the fuck do I need to find him?”

A closed fist breaks through the paneled wall next to his chin, “enough with the questions Eddie goddamnit! I need you on this, and you’re not gonna tell me ‘no’ you understand me?”

Eddie had never hated his dad more than he did at this moment. If he were older he’d swing a fist into his gut, knock his lights out once and for all, but he didn’t dare, shoulders slumped and the weight of the world and all its guilt piled onto him. He had no idea what kind of shit his dad was getting him into, only the gut wrenching feeling that something was terribly wrong, and the only thing he could do was nod his head, agreeing to lend his trembling hand.

Across town on Cherry lane, Neil Hargrove was having the same friendly little “discussion” with Billy, but the conversation was different, lighter, happier, and the two Hargrove men seemed to be on the same page for once in their lives.

—

OCT. 1986

The Harrington’s basement was set up much like the Wheeler’s but on a grander scale. Large tv tucked behind an oak cabinet,, a beige leather couch that seemed to stretch across the entire living room area, a surround sound system in each corner, two bedrooms and a full bathroom. Setting Nancy down on the plus couch and covering her small form with a wool blanket, Steve opens a closet door and wrangles out a new set of golf clubs, leaning them against the wall, and running his hair through his fingers, as if he’s trying to make a mental list of household objects that could be used as a weapon.

The phone rings noisily in one of the bedrooms and Steve leaves to answer it.

Eddie still has your fingers between his, his rings leaving small indents but you don’t mind, it’s a comfort. He’s muttering to himself, in a tone only he can hear, biting the nails on his right hand with grinding clicks of his teeth. Looking at you his expression falters for a split second, trying to put on a calming mask, nonchalant-like even though inside he was screaming.

It wouldn’t be long before the Demodogs came, especially if the Demogorgons were out, would he be looking for him? Wondering where he has been? Why he’s been gone?

He guides you to the couch, a grand gesture with his nail bitten hand, grabbing a blanket and putting it around you.

Steve emerges from the back bedroom, a tiny bit of relief in his eyes, “that was Robin, they’re on their way here, I guess they barely made it out.”

You wince at the thought of everyone dead at the carnival, the way Argyle’s body was ripped to shreds, the howling cackle from Creel, the way he stood with his arms in a welcoming hug, just an hour ago you were convinced you were going to kiss your best friend, now the majority of Hawkins was dead.

Steve turns to Eddie, with wide searching eyes, fumbling for the right words but failing, “I need answers man, right now.”

—

Robin hangs up the phone, blood drying on her fingers from when she tripped over the gaping carcass of Tammy Thompson, her face covered with streaks of dirt and god knows what else, “ Let’s go! Everyone’s at St—”

A stinging in her spine brings heat, warm and dripping, then fiery hot, a hand on her shoulder she turns to see his maniacal eyes, the blood from the gash on his head now trickling into his mouth, white pearls stained in ruby.

“I did you a solid Rob, killed that bitch for you—didn’t even think twice about it, because we’re friends,” blood now trickling down her back into the waist of her scoops ahoy uniform shorts, she garbles a breath cusping on the breath of a question.

“shh,” he reassures, wiping tears from her freckles lined cheeks, extracting the knife from the well in her back, he helps her lie down gently, “this isn’t going to kill you, it’s just temporary you see? I can’t have any distractions, I can’t let you get in my way, but don’t worry!”

He moves to rip the phone cord from its hook, “I’ve done so much research on this meticulously studying over books on ways to cut the human body, what would hurt the worst, the least, the angle of the knife was just right, I guess I could be wrong,” he scratches his head, the whites of his eyes rolling as the smell of blood starts to work him up, an ache he can’t scratch, “hmm… take care, yeah? I’ll be back.”

A pool of blood blossoms from Robin’s back, flowing into the blue carpet fibers of her room— in tandem with the slow blink of her eyelashes meeting.

The ignition of his car engine backfires with a gunshot noise, the bloody knife he used to kill the others laid gently on the leather of his passenger seat.

Driving down the desolate streets of Hawkins, he looks in the rearview mirror, and for the first time, Jonathan Byers likes what he sees.

♡tag list: @dashingdeb16 @emxxblog @mopeymopeymouse @pretendthisnameisclever @mommybaby-witch @eddies-acousticguitar @tlclick73 @figmentofquinn @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @whenshelanded @micheledawn1975 @3rd-conchord * @leelei1980 @mopeymopeymouse @browneyes8288 @emilyslutface @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiesxangel @elegantkoalapaper * @str4ngergirlw0rld * @corrodedcoffincumslut @nailbatanddungeon @katethetank @munsons-mayhem28 * @mandyjo8719 @joannamuns9n @littlebookworm86 @hunnybuns-world @feyremunson

#eddie fanfiction #eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #fic recs #eddie munson angst #stranger things #upside down #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie fanfic

150 notes · View notes

oldiesstationlover11607 · 1 month ago

Note

Hi!! Can I request reader and TB/Clancy (either one is fine!!!). Where the reader just follows one or the other 24/7 like a baby duckling?? Thank you!!!!

Duckling - Clancy!Tyler Joseph x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 964

A/N: Here's a shorter one :) I'm probably gonna publish another fic tonight too!

I don’t know what it was about Clancy that first drew me to him. Maybe it was the quiet strength in the way he carried himself, or the way his eyes held a thousand stories he’d never tell. All I know is that once I started following him, I couldn’t stop.

I’d wake up every morning in the Bandito camp, the sunlight filtering through the tattered fabric of our tents, and the first thing on my mind would be him. Clancy. I’d stretch, throw on my jacket, and set off to find him. It wasn’t hard; he had a way of standing out even when he tried to blend in. That’s just who he was. And like a baby duckling, I’d fall into step behind him, my heart lighter just being close to him.

At first, I think I might have annoyed him. He’d glance over his shoulder and raise an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was fighting back a smile.

“You know you don’t have to follow me everywhere, right?” he’d say, his tone teasing but not unkind.

I’d just shrug, grinning up at him. “Where else would I go? It’s not like I want to be around anyone else, Clancy.”

He’d shake his head, muttering something about me being impossible, but he never told me to stop. That was all the encouragement I needed.

The Bandito camp was always buzzing with activity, people running to and fro, planning missions, repairing gear, or just trying to carve out a moment of peace in the chaos. But I only had eyes for Clancy. He was usually busy with something—organizing supplies, talking strategy with the Torchbearer, or scribbling notes in that little journal of his. No matter what he was doing, I was there, a constant presence at his side.

“You’re going to wear yourself out,” he said one day as we walked through the camp. He was carrying a crate of supplies, and I was tagging along like usual. “Following me around all day can’t be that exciting.”

“You’d be surprised,” I replied, sticking my hands in my pockets. “Besides, someone has to make sure you don’t overwork yourself.”

He laughed, a rare, warm sound that made my heart skip a beat. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” I said, nodding solemnly. “You’re lucky to have me.”

He shook his head again, but this time, he was smiling.

Sometimes, I’d catch him watching me out of the corner of his eye. It wasn’t the guarded, calculating look he gave most people. It was softer, like he was trying to figure me out and couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. I’d meet his gaze, and he’d look away quickly, pretending to be engrossed in whatever task he was doing. But I saw the way his lips twitched upward, and it made my chest feel warm and fuzzy.

One afternoon, I found him sitting on a crate near the edge of the camp, scribbling in his journal. I plopped down next to him without a word, resting my chin in my hands as I watched him write. He didn’t look up, but I could tell he knew I was there. His pen scratched across the paper, the sound mingling with the distant hum of camp activity.

“What are you writing?” I asked after a while.

He paused, his pen hovering mid-word. “Just… notes. Thoughts. Plans.”

“Can I see?” I leaned closer, trying to peek over his shoulder.

He snapped the journal shut, holding it protectively against his chest. “Not a chance.”

I pouted, leaning back dramatically. “You’re no fun.”

“Oh, I’m plenty of fun,” he shot back, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You just haven’t earned the right to read my journal yet.”

“Yet?” I teased, raising an eyebrow. “So you’re saying there’s hope?”

He rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth quirked up. “Don’t push your luck.”

I laughed, leaning against his shoulder. He didn’t pull away, and for a moment, we just sat there, the world around us fading into the background. I could feel his warmth, the steady rise and fall of his breath, and it felt like home.

As the weeks went by, my habit of trailing after Clancy became less about curiosity and more about simply wanting to be close to him. He never seemed to mind, even when I asked a million questions or interrupted his work with my relentless chatter. In fact, I think he started to enjoy it. He’d share little bits of his past, his dreams for the future, and his quiet determination to make a difference. And I’d listen, hanging on to every word, because everything about him fascinated me.

One evening, as we were walking back to the camp after a supply run, I looked up at him and said, “You know, you’re my favorite person here.”

He stopped mid-step, turning to look at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “Really?”

I nodded, my cheeks heating under his gaze. “Really.”

For a moment, he just stared at me, like he was trying to figure out what to say. Then he smiled, the kind of smile that made my heart feel like it was doing backflips.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he said, his voice soft.

And that was enough. Clancy didn’t need to say much to make me feel like I belonged, like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. By his side.

I still follow him around the camp every day, and he still pretends to be exasperated, but I know the truth. He likes having me there. And as long as he’ll let me, I’ll keep trailing after him, my heart light and my world bright, because with Clancy, everything feels just a little bit better.

REQUESTS OPEN AND WANTED!!

20 notes · View notes

southernbluebellereader · 2 years ago

Note

Please, ma'am, could I request a reader who's a people pleaser and a perfectionist. Someone who always tries to stay optimistic for other's sake. Preferably platonic but I don't mind either way.

Do whatever else you want with it. I just think the dynamic with the team and a high-strung happy-go-lucky personality would be interesting.

Tenderheart Bear

A/N: Hi Bestie! I got you, girl! Look at me *holds your face* I got you! This is so cute! I love! Because this is literally me lmao. Also I got the name from the Care Bears lol I'm sorry (No, I'm not lol) but I hope you like it!!! - I hope you're ok with me making the reader a field-medic. I also made her a slight cry baby, mainly because I am a cry baby. I hope you're ok with that lol

Taskforce 141 x F! Field Medic Reader who's Miss Happy and a People Pleaser Perfectionist (like me lol) - PLATONIC

Warnings: Cursing? Members of the 141 being stressed and depressed, per usual.

Master List (tag list at the bottom)

Sometimes the members of the Task Force 141 wondered why their Captain had brought you onto their team. You were just... so nice.

You're always smiling.

You're always in a good mood.

You're always seeing the bright side of things - even on the field.

You were a field medic. Even field medics had some sort of arsenal of weapons, yet for some God damned reason you refused to carry any of them, except for a few utility and military knives - which is all you ever needed really. Johnny dared to ask you why - and beg you - to have something else other than a knife.

"No, because how would I be able to carry more medical supplies?"

Johnny looked at Simon with a dumbfounded expression, then back at you, "No, you at least need a gun, lass!"

"Sergeant, I don't need a gun! I have you guys!" You shrugged as you continued to pack your medical backpack.

"Oh my God, Woman!" Johnny exclaimed, waving his hand in protest as he left the room. "LT, please talk to her."

Simon looked over at you, sighing slightly, "Y/N, he has a point."

"I haven't had an issue before, why would I have an issue now?

"Y/N. What are you going to do if you get cornered? A knife isn't going to protect you against bullets."

"True. But again, I have you guys."

The vein already bulging out of Simon's forehead became more prominent.

---

"Wait, stand still!" You sucked in a breath, pressing your lips together as you bandaged Kyle's arm. The mission was over and you were waiting for a helicopter to come and pick you and the team up.

"Y/N, I'm fine." Kyle told her calmly.

"No, I have to re-wrap it because you keep moving, Serg-" Your eyes began to gloss over. Kyle placed his free hand over one of hers, making her look at him.

"Hey. You're ok. I'm fine, just a little surface wound. The bandaging doesn't have to be perfect, just good enough for us to make it back."

"But it'll get infected if I don't do it right!" You pouted, tears threatening to fall.

Kyle took a deep breath and re-assured her once more: "Y/N. It's ok. I'll be fine. You'll be fine. You did good out there."

---

Captain Price patted each of the pockets of his cargo pants, looking for a pen. You stood beside him, holding a pen out for him. He thanked you for it, and started looking for something to write on.

You pulled out a small note pad from one of the side pockets of your cargo pants and handed it to him. He looked at you for a moment, thanked you again, then started looking for something.

"What are you looking for?"

"My cigars."

"Oh, you left them in your right jacket pocket with your lighter." You smiled at your Captain who just looked at you, then walked over to his jacket that was hung over a chair and checked the right pocket, finding his cigars and his lighter. Thinking you may be playing a prank on him, he looked at you for a moment, then thanked you.

---

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" Simon sat on a chair beside you while you were being patched up by one of the nurses on the base.

You couldn't meet the Lieutenant's eyes. Your eyes glossed over and tears threatened to fall. "Because I got hurt- I didn't- I couldn't-"

"Y/N. Look at me."

The nurse had left, leaving you and Simon. You took a deep breath and finally looked at him, eyes puffy and rosy cheeks from crying earlier.

On the inside, seeing you hurt, or seeing you cry, or upset - at anything, wrung his heart. He scooted over and looked up at her, speaking softly, "Hey. You did good out there, sport. We all get hurt on missions, you know what - there's a reason we got you on our team. You're our little healer - and we protect our little healer. But you getting hurt this time was not your fault. If you should blame anyone, blame me because I didn't keep an eye on you."

Simon - or anyone else on the team - only spoke softly to you - they all knew that and you knew that. Because they cared. You made sure they were patched up on the field. You made sure they were ok. You were their little healer. It was only natural that they make sure you're ok.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TAG LIST

@ateliefloresdaprimavera @galagcica @sweetybuzz25 @wisedinosaurpolice @itsasecrets-things @ronbon @lieutenantlashfaz @piper570 @shuttlelauncher81 @thanksbutno98 @gabriellathegreat

417 notes · View notes

whorediaries-09 · 9 months ago

Text

are you death or paradise?

pairing- sirius black x auror!reader warning(s) - throwing up, hurt/comfort. a/n- god i should really stop breaking my own self lmao.

little train. series masterlist.

sirius found himself in the corner of his room, disgusted by what he'd done. he hated himself, and in the drunk haze, he slipped into a little bubble of deranged anger and despise. he found himself clenching onto a piece of parchment and a pen. he wanted the pain he felt to be shattered. so he decided to write it down, burning it into a flame.

'prongs, i hate it here, please take me with you. what if it didn't happen if i was made the secret keeper? if i changed anything would you still be alive, prongs? do you hate that i begged you to make peter the secret keeper? do you hate me prongs? am i to blame?'

the tears stained the parchment. he felt his body burn, and within the pocket of his t-shirt, he found a lighter. staring at the girl asleep on his bed, he burned it up. his arteries drowned with the poisonous pricks of his blood. his breathing differed and he shuddered as the cold air bit him.

he hooted to the little owl he had bought. it flocked onto his shoulder.

'can you find remus?' he slurred with half open eyes. 'please?' the owl stared at him with it's big amber eyes that reflected through its black feathers. as if it understood his words, it nodded before flapping its wings and flying off into the night.

the owl had been nipping at remus' ear, trying to grab his attention. even to the owl, it seemed weird that the lanky male was up at the dead of night, drinking black coffee and reading the newspaper as if it was the beginning of the day.

remus didn't understand why the owl had been there. or how the owl had been there. or why the owl was there. remus had his flat in the most secluded-if not the most darkest alley he'd found. it was cheapest he could find, after all.

his eyes shimmied over the bold headline on the newspaper.

'sirius black freed, but has disappeared? what is the mystery behind the man?'

another obnoxious article by rita skeeter, remus thought. the news of his long lost friend was the hot gossip, and everybody was in the watch out to look for him. his face was printed onto the front pages on the paper for the last few days. the shift from the front page to somewhere in between, he supposed was a change.

he had also received sirius' letter. reluctantly, he had agreed. however, when he went to the three broomsticks to meet him, he had not showed up.

the owl nibbled his ear again before perching on his lap, prodding at the moving picture of sirius on the paper.

'are you sirius' owl?' remus asked. the owl turned his head, blinking and agreeing, as if he understood his words. with an earnest glowing fire in his eyes, the owl tried to speak to him with his eyes and hoots.

the amber glow of his eyes contrasting against the black feathers strangely reminded him of sirius. perhaps he'd gotten an owl just like himself...

sirius found himself being jerked awake. his mouth was dry, lips wet with saliva as drool drooped all over himself from his open mouth. his body ached.

'padfoot, wake up!' remus said, holding up a pair of pants. 'please wear this pants, we have a guest!' he startled awake, his head thumping against his skull. he stared aimlessly at his bed, the sheets crinkled and dirty. his mind tried to make sense of the things that happened around him, but he couldn't ignore the feeling of ache that spread all throughout his body.

'fuck, moony, you're here,' he whispered. his gut churned as he tried to stand up, his vision dizzying. remus wrapped his hand around his shoulders telling him to sit down on the bed and handing him the boxers he held.

'wear them, then we'll talk.' he said, his voice harsh. sirius nodded slowly, lowering his head into his hands. he breathed slow, letting his head ache and gut churn. with slender movement, he slipped his legs, sliding the boxer up to his scarred narrow waist. slow and hot, he felt salty water accumulate into his mouth, the hangover getting the best of his sanity. he spilled out whatever he had consumed the last day, throwing up on the floor.

a soft, strangely familiar hand wrapped around his hair, pulling it up, simultaneously rubbing his back for comfort. he felt his gut bubble for the last time as he spilled out every bit of food consumed. with tear stricken eyes and a rumbling stomach, he stared at remus, who cleaned up the mess with a simple spell.

'you're okay,' the familiar voice whispered from behind his back. 'you'll be okay.' you said, a tad bit more stern as he whipped his head around to look for the source of your mouth.

'lupin, please help me get him up. he needs to freshen up. i don't know how many whiskeys he had last night, but he smells pretty booze-y.' remus merely hummed, helping you to carry sirius into the bathroom. you filled up the bath with warm water and the cherry flavored body wash kept beside.

sirius hazily took off his clothes, ignoring remus' pleas to not get rid of them in front of you. he was too far gone within his crumbled ruinations to care. he plopped himself into the bath.

'lupin, can you set the tea?' sirius' eyes opened droopily,

'how did you know i have tea?' he slurred, staring at your standing form. you rubbed the back of your head, sitting down on your knees beside him, sponge in hand. you rubbed the water on his back.

'you told me the other night,'

'i'll go and make the tea, actually,' remus said, awkwardly walking away. tenderly, you rubbed the age old scars on his back. they were healed, yet visible from the fading ink of the tattoos on his back. you rubbed agonizingly slowly as if the scars still hurt.

perhaps they didn't. but the chronicles behind them certainly did.

'are you looking at my scars?' he asked, twisting his head to stare into your eyes, catching you off guard. there was a glow in them you'd never seen before, a strange glow that felt so familiar to be within the curtain of his gray irises. a hue that belonged within him.

'maybe,' you said, continuing to rub the soap on his body. with slender, cold and wet fingers, he tucked your stray hairs behind your ears. as the sun rose, the golden light illuminated through his windows. it fell directly upon your features, enhancing your features.

he felt his heart soar. words stuck on his tongue as he watched you tenderly, bitterly wash him off. it was as if the lightening had struck again, and he was outside in the rain, his body and heart bleeding. as if he'd felt james' warm embrace again as he took him in. as if it was maa yet again cleaning him up, with papa vowing to never let him go.

but in his mind, he knew it wasn't james or maa or papa. he was in his doomed loophole of prison that burned him to the very core. perhaps he was escaping death, freeing himself from the cold hands of death. but where was he escaping? who was his paradise?

were you the paradise he was escaping to?

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

original idea posted by - @lilwnet

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

taglist (for series) - @urbansaint

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

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

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #marauders #sirius black #sirius x reader #sirius black smut #the marauders #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #marauders era #sirius black thoughts #sirius black x oc #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanart #sirius being sirius #sirius black fluff #sirius black angst #fanfiction #james & peter & remus & sirius

39 notes · View notes