#holy shit shes just busted now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

forlix · 1 year ago

Text

‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 (besides myself)・l.f.

— you spend three years loving him, six months losing him, and four hours waiting for him to get the hell out of your house. but the human heart is more stubborn than you know.

words・5.4k

pairing・lee felix x gn!reader

genres・babysitter!au, girldad!lix, nobody look at me, toothrotting fluff, more angst than originally intended tbh, exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, happy ending yayyy, non-linear storyline

warnings・cousin has a korean name and experiences one (1) minor head bump, mc is temporarily heartbroken and experiences one (1) breakdown

playlist・house song by searows・glad by tori kelly・let's pretend by del water gap・you were good to me by jeremy zucker

a/n・hiiii my loves, i'm so unbelievably excited to bring u my first contribution to my and @astraystayyh's collaboration, "winter falls" ♡ every time i write for our ray of sunshine i'm reminded of how thankful i am to love him. this fic ruined me. hope it does the same to you (smile)

I. everything

“One day,” you muttered to the toddler sitting on your shoulders, “you’ll experience something deeply, irreversibly humbling, and I’ll be there to witness your downfall.”

Byeol responded to this with an unbothered babble. She then gathered two handfuls of your hair and yanked using far too much force to be biologically possible.

You folded like a lawn chair. “Mother—!”

Oh, that word was not suitable for button-sized ears.

“—oh, my dear mother, why? Why me?”

Technically speaking, your aunt should’ve been the target of your lamentations, but all she did was produce the child presently steering you around the kitchen like you were her own personal bumper car. Your own mother was the one who volunteered you to watch said child during the first weekend of your winter break. Only for an hour until the babysitter arrives, she’d said (raising her voice, so as to be heard over your groaning).

You adored Byeol. She made scarily accurate chipmunk sounds and possessed an immobilizing fear of grapes. She bust out a dance move before she took her first steps. The girl could have you floored with laughter without being able to say more than three words at a time. Still, this was far from how you imagined onsetting your desperately-needed few weeks off. Not to mention it was now half past three; your shift should’ve ended two minutes ago.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Byeol emitted an excited onomatopoeia like a golden retriever detecting the mailman. Your reaction wasn’t too far off; you swiveled your head in the sound’s direction, sang out “coming!” in a delighted vibrato, and twirled into the foyer, your hands around Byeol’s ankles anchoring her in place.

You cracked open the door and found yourself face-to-face with Byeol’s babysitter. The freckles scattered across his high cheekbones and sloping nose seemed to you like they were imprinted by the sun itself. His hair was dark, falling just shy of pitch black, and long, ending an inch or so below pierced ears. A few misbehaving strands rested over his forehead but did little to obstruct your view of his eyes: profoundly brown and pointed at either end, like poinsettia petals.

He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. You felt your skin warm, your heart flip. You opened your mouth.

Then Byeol hit her head against the vertical edge of the front door, loud enough for it to echo.

The panic that seized you in that moment was truly unlike anything you’d experienced before. You caught one glimpse of the stranger’s expression (as mortified as you expected), and then you were seeing your own epitaph on the inside of your eyelids, engraved with the four words “Death by Furious Aunt.”

“Was that—?” The man sputtered, and his voice was rich and full and accented and just as breathtaking as the rest of him and holy fucking shit now was not the time.

“My fucking god,” you whispered, completely forgetting to watch your mouth. In a hurry, you swung Byeol off your shoulders and dropped to a knee. You leaned in close to examine her reddening forehead and cradled the plush of her cheek; she blinked at you a few times, fascinated by the sudden sight of your face again.

“You okay, Byeollie? That hurt a lot, didn’t it? I’m so, so sorr—”

Byeol started to laugh.

Not laugh as in those little chuckles she let out randomly, like there was something inherently amusing about the kitchen cupboard, but laugh as in a boisterous, resounding guffaw, like a great-uncle at a family gathering off one too many martinis.

This rendered you speechless for the second time in under a minute. Then, you lifted your other hand to cradle her other cheek, her face now sandwiched between your palms, and squeezed.

“I broke my cousin,” you whispered, your voice was so deathly serious that the man in the doorway had to stifle a laugh of his own.

His knee brushed against your shin as he sat down to your left, folding his legs into a criss-cross. You could discern notes of lavender and orange blossoms in the delicate cologne that clung to him, perforated the air and your mind both.

“Can I?” He asked.

“Please.”

Carefully, you shifted Byeol’s small frame towards him; the manner in which he accepted her was so smooth and practiced that there was no doubt in your mind you were watching a professional at work. He settled her on his right knee, then dipped his head to look her in the eye.

“Hi, princess,” he cooed with a dulcet smile. He curved his pointer finger, dusted it beneath her chin. “Why are you laughing, silly girl?”

Oh.

You might just continue your lineage after all.

“Y/N-ie,” she answered, still tittering.

He looked to you with a slight tilt to his head, and you nodded affirmatively. He murmured a quiet ah. “What about Y/N-ie?”

Somehow you sensed that she was about to embarrass you and pinched the bridge of your nose—in preparation.

“P-pretty.” I knew it!

The man let out the laugh he’d been holding back since earlier and tapped on her button nose, lowered his voice to a whisper that he knew you could hear.

“I agree.” His eye glinted playfully, matching his tone. “And so are you.” The bashful, high-pitched giggle she responded with sounded eerily similar to your inner monologue.

The two of you spent a little longer on the floor of the foyer making sure Byeol was okay, and then the girl upped and made a mad dash for the kitchen while yelling something about a horse, and if that didn’t confirm that she was completely fine (albeit incredibly strange) you didn’t know what would. You found her rolling around the carpet in the room adjacent to the kitchen and left her to her own devices while you and her babysitter fixed up a small fruit plate for her afternoon snack. No grapes, of course.

He told you he usually went by Felix, but that his Korean name was probably easier for Byeol to pronounce, with its easier consonants and whatnot. You asked which name he preferred, and he said either or. He was a recent college graduate, a year older than you, who was determined to spend at least the next two years doing nothing but working out his future. He accepted the part-time babysitting position to pick up some light cash in the process.

“And ‘cause I’m good with kids,” he added, splitting apart a tangerine. “So I’ve been told.”

“Oh, you definitely are,” you said, plating a couple blueberries. “You melted her earlier.”

“She melted me. She’s so cute. And you’re so cute with her—I didn’t realize I was robbing someone of their job.”

You turned your head to regard the tot and let out a helpless laugh. Byeol tired of being a human lint roller a few minutes ago and had since moved on to staring aimlessly out the window.

“She doesn’t take me seriously, and I can’t stay mad at her,” you mused. “I would be a nightmare as her babysitter, trust me. She’s all yours.”

Felix held out two overturned handfuls of tangerine slices, to which you quickly moved the platter across the counter. He didn’t respond to your comments as he placed them on the outermost edge so that they looked like rays of sun emanating from a multicolored core. Adorable.

“Will you be around much, then?”

You made eye contact with him across the counter. On his perfect face was a teasing smirk and a subtle blush. Ah, you’d been mistaken, writing off his silence as concentration—he’d been contemplating how to best flirt with you.

“Y’know. In case I need any help teaching her cuss words,” he appended.

It was then your turn to flush a couple shades darker. “Please don’t tell her mom.”

“I won’t, I won’t.” He walked around the perimeter of the counter until he was directly in front of you; the lavender and orange blossoms returned. “On one condition.”

Not even one hour on the job and he was already trying to blackmail you? You respected it. “Which is?”

As he shifted some of his weight onto the counter, something too shifted in his smile, giving it a quality that was every bit as hopeful as it was gentle.

It was then, while Lee Felix was looking at you like that, all dilated pupils and long lashes, when you predicted that he would one day break your heart. You predicted you’d let him.

“Be around,” he said simply.

It wasn’t a question or a demand. In hindsight, you think it was more akin to a birthday wish, ill-fated the moment it hit the air.

II. has changed

Felix pulled Byeol’s hood up and over her ears, and you realized he was right about the winter coat getting too small for her—she looked like a bowling pin. You muffled your snort into your scarf.

“And what was the last rule again?” He asked, his breath puffing into the frigid afternoon in tiny clouds. Byeol sighed like she knew anything of the world’s woes.

“No barking at other kids,” came the sad reply, but a toothy smile spread across her face anyways when Felix nudged the underside of her chin. She loved when he did that.

“That’s my girl,” he hummed. “I believe in you.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you said, and the wounded look Felix shot you was like you’d just confessed to hating kittens. “Come on—she doesn’t have a good track record. I’m allowed to have my doubts.”

“I dunno what that means,” Byeol announced with admirable frankness, and then turned around and scurried down the porch stairs, scattering fun-sized footprints across the snowy streets.

As you braced yourself to follow her, Felix stopped you with a slip of his hand into the pocket of your puffer. His fingers first aligned with yours inside the insulated nylon, then chased the spaces in between. He leaned in close, placed a kiss on the apple of your cheek, another on the corner of your mouth. This brought a helpless smile to your face, too. He had a way of melting you and Byeol both.

“It’ll be fine,” he soothed. “A little barking never hurt anybody, baby.”

“Lix, last time somebody called animal control.”

“Ermm—a little barking never hurt most people.”

That winter, Byeol was four, and your relationship with Felix was about to turn two.

Funnily enough, you’d never figured out when your anniversary actually was. Felix wagered it was the day you met, as he knew he loved you the instant he saw you; you insisted it was months later, since it took both of you an entire winter break of open-ended flirting and informal dating to label yourselves for real. Imagine your horror when he showed up outside your college apartment on the last day of your fall semester, arms overflowing with flowers and gift bags brimming with your favorite things, the phrase “happy anniversary” on his lips three months before you perceived it to be. You’ve celebrated both days ever since.

You loved the ocean growing up. You didn’t get to visit it often, but when you did you would run up to the water’s very edge so that your toes dipped into the cold—and just stand there, observing, absorbing, until even the seam of your lips and the ends of your eyelashes were studded with crystals of seasalt. You found endless tranquility in its rhythmic whispers and unspeakable comfort in its oscillating waves, guaranteed to return after momentary departure.

Your fascination stemmed from the folktale your mother used to read to you before bed, about a sun goddess creating the earth. In the story, every component of nature was one of the sun’s beloved children. She allegedly loved them all, but you suspected the ocean was her favorite; it was obvious, the way she twinkled off its ebbing surface, the way every minuscule spot of light looked to you like a handprint of hers, left behind by eons of endless doting.

Felix reminded you of the ocean. Every day you grew more certain that you wanted to drown in him, to let his resonant voice and kind eyes sweep and keep you inside his depths. It was never salt that he pressed into your skin but warmth, stamped and sealed with caring hands and cautious lips. His deep whispers promised eternal love and temporary ecstasy and everything in between. You knew he would come back to you even if stranded in a different realm. And there was no questioning the goddess’ favoritism, either. The freckles on his face mirrored the sun’s very spots like an homage to his creator.

You didn’t love the ocean growing up, no. You had never loved before Felix.

The park was busy when the three of you arrived. Byeol and Felix recognized a few families as your aunt’s neighbors and hurried over to say hello. Your social butterflies.

“I’ll be over there,” you called after them.

Felix stopped in his tracks, looked over his shoulder. It had started snowing lightly on your walk there, and snowflakes now sat atop his sable locks. He looked like a painting. “You okay?”

“Yes, yes.” You shooed them off. “Don’t worry about me. Go have fun.”

With that, you withdrew to the sidelines, an unoccupied swingset adjacent to a baseball diamond covered in frost.

Your baby cousin was brawny for her age, which you could’ve seen coming with how she was hauling at your hair two years ago, but even she couldn’t yet terrorize the playground without assistance. Who better to make her partner in crime than her favorite Bokkie? You couldn’t help but giggle as the two revolved around each other for the better part of an hour, Byeol’s smile colossal as she frolicked every which way, Felix’s smile worried but hopelessly endeared as he followed behind. He never let her leave his shadow. She never tried to.

It was there on those icy swings that you experienced a moment of strange clarity, like you’d broken the fourth wall of your own story. You could feel the winds of change blowing your hair across your shoulders. You were aware of time’s trickling from the gaps of your fingers like liquid mercury.

Your laughter dissipated to a bittersweet smile; your smile mellowed to dewy eyes. It seemed like just yesterday when Byeol was small enough to sit on your shoulders and Felix stepped into your kitchen for the first time. Now, she was scaling a rope ladder with the celerity of a crazed monkey while Felix hovered a wary hand by her waist. The muted sunlight caught on the silver rings he wore, particularly the thin, bright one on his middle finger. You had one just like it, adorning the same place.

The last two years were the happiest of your life. Why couldn’t you remember where they went?

Lavender and orange blossoms announced your boyfriend’s arrival—that, and the sigh of fatigue that he expelled as he dropped into the swing next to you.

“I’m not cut out for this anymore.”

Byeol’s neighbor had temporarily relieved Felix of his post by taking her and his son to test out the seesaw, and you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole town could hear her enthusiastic shrieking.

“You know how people walk their dogs?” You mused. “Some dogs walk their people. She’s one of them.”

For a moment, he could only stare in disbelief at the grin creeping across your face; then, he groaned in a way that could only mean you were right on the money. You gave his thigh a sympathetic pat.

“You’re whipped, my love. It’s okay.”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, suddenly perking up. “Hey, no barking though.”

“Are we considering that a win nowadays?”

“Do you see animal control anywhere?”

“Good point.”

Felix monitored your expression during the quiet interval that ensued—saw through the melancholy curve of your lips, the pensive slant of your gaze. There was a red tinge to the whites of your eyes that hadn’t been there before.

You saw him reach for you in your periphery. His fingers brushed a lock of hair behind the shell of your ear, remained there for three slow heartbeats, and then lifted away.

“Angel,” he murmured. “Talk to me.”

You shook your head. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not.” Not even ten seconds after the last time, he reached for you again, now to take your hand and bring it to his lap. “You know it’s not.”

“It’s just that—”

Felix thumbed over the ridges of your knuckles, his touch so gentle that it could’ve unraveled a chrysalis; it certainly unraveled you. You took a stabilizing breath.

“I wish could recognize my own happiness in the moment,” you sighed, “not just in retrospect. That way, even when it comes to an end, I’d still be able to look back and say with confidence that I was happy once. I’d like that, I think.”

His brows knit together as he processed your words, and, the next thing you knew, he left his swing trembling in his sudden absence and his trenchcoat became a black blur in the cold air.

Felix rested his elbows atop your knees as he knelt in front of you, cradled your face in his hands. He was achingly beautiful always, but you truly felt your breath swiped from your lungs at the new proximity of his ethereal features: petal-shaped eyes, wind-bitten cheeks, coral cupid’s bow. A painting.

“That’s easy enough,” Felix hummed. “How do you feel right now?”

You had zero agency in the smile this brought to your face. You wrapped your hands around his wrists, your answer quick, thoughtless. “Happy.”

He pressed his lips to the space between your eyes. “And now?”

“Happier.”

He pressed his lips to the curve of your jaw. “What about now?”

“Even happier.”

His gaze flickered to his final destination, but you beat him to it, sealing your mouth against his with urgency. The kiss that followed was so intensely loving that your head went fuzzy. How was it that you felt his adoration for you even in his pliant lips, his velvet tongue? You ran your fingers through the part of his hair. You loved when you could feel the locks flutter back into place afterwards.

“GET A ROOM!”

You and Felix pulled away from one another, wearing matching expressions of bewilderment. Byeol was approximately five Newtons away from soaring off into the stratosphere, her legs jostling around as she clung to her seat for dear life. It seemed your neighbor had a very aggressive way of seesaw-maneuvering. It seemed your cousin had a very aggressive vocabulary.

“Where did she learn—?” The two of you began in unison, then shot your heads back towards each other.

“It had to be you.”

“Outrageous—you’re the Australian here!”

“You cuss like one too!”

“Because of you!”

“So we’re just lying now?”

“Well, yes.”

Felix cracked a smile—and then the two of you were dying of laughter, his right eye squinting closed and your forehead thudding onto his shoulder. You hardly managed to get out your next words. “We have to do something about her vernacular, don’t we?”

“Oh, badly,” he replied. “Badly.”

After you expended your giggles, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, blissful, glowing. “Thank you, baby.”

“What for?”

“Being my happiness.”

He angled your face back to his and kissed you once more, whispering I love you like it wasn’t enough that it graced your ears; he needed it embossed upon your flesh in permanent ink.

Your intermingled breaths floated up into the air like flare signals over a capsizing boat. Here marks the time we were happiest.

III. (besides myself)

He’s blonde.

That’s the first thing you notice when you see your ex-boyfriend on your aunt’s porch: the slightly off-white color of his silky tresses, grown out longer than you’ve ever seen, pushed off his forehead and tucked behind his ears.

It’s not the only thing you notice, of course. His face has thinned ever so slightly, the shadows thrown over his features by the streetlights behind him particularly opaque. His outfit is glorious, expensive, with the black blazer and white dress shirt, the top two buttons undone, the pendant of a silver necklace resting between toned collarbones. His hands are almost overflowing with what must be gifts for your family. It’s impossible to discern all of them from this distance, but you know the bouquet of white poinsettias is for your mom, the batch of brownies doused in sprinkles and icing for Byeol.

But the hair is where your gaze returns, because tucked among the platinum strands are black roots: millimeters of the color you grew to adore, peeking out as if trying to catch a glimpse of you, too.

You’re so occupied with this game of “I spy” that you don’t notice the rampant footsteps coming up behind you. Your six-year-old cousin collides with the back of your leg head-on and nearly topples you like a bowling pin.

“Is it him?” She asks breathlessly.

You come this close to berating her as you steady yourself against the wall—what did I say about treating human beings like couch cushions? But you look down to see her chin resting on the side of your thigh, her eager eyes shining so brightly that she puts her own namesake to shame. Your scolding tirade dissolves on your tongue like popping candy.

You simply sigh instead. “Yes, but—”

“BOKKIE!” She shrieks, and Felix’s head snap upwards at the sound of her voice. His tender smile melts some of the frost laminating your heart.

You crack open the door, making eye contact with Felix for the first time in six months.

“Put everything down. Quickly,” you whisper, and he obeys right away, alarmed by the urgency in your voice. A wise choice.

The last present has hardly touched down upon the wooden planks when Byeol wriggles through the doorway and charges towards Felix like an angered toro. He swivels at her bright holler of his name, lowers himself to a squat just barely in time to catch her in his embrace. The delighted laugh that leaves his mouth as he staggers backwards sounds like the sun itself; you feel lost in orbit hearing it again.

“Bokkie,” Byeol murmurs, her voice muffled in the dip of his shoulder, by the tightening of her arms around his neck.

“Hi, princess.” He kisses her temple, presses his nose against her hair. “Whoa, you’ve grown strong, haven’t you?”

“She takes taekwondo classes now,” you hum from above, and the shock in his face asks the very question that your poignant smile confirms. Yes, because of you.

Felix pulls away, cocoons her cheeks with cherishing hands. “Is that true?”

She bobs her head. “I want to be like Bokkie.”

And his eyes go impossibly, terribly soft, like he’s gazing at the horizon itself. The sight twists the knife in your gut and yanks on your tangled heartstrings. It’s all because of you.

“And kick some ass!” Byeol adds, knocking you out of your sentimental spiral. You clap a defeated hand to your forehead. Felix falls over himself. So much for fixing her vernacular.

A few minutes later, Byeol is pirouetting towards the kitchen with a couple of Felix’s smaller presents in her arms, all too happy to be of help. You linger behind as Felix takes off his shoes, your cousin’s departure leaving the two of you alone in the dim foyer.

Felix straightens. The two of you come face to face. The air hangs so heavily with unspoken words that you half expect it to start dripping.

“Hi,” he says.

You nearly laugh at the cruelty of it. The man you were certain you’d grow old with greeting you like you’ve been forced to sit next to each other on the first day of school.

“Hi,” you answer. “You look—”

The two of you say this last part in unison; old habits die hard.

“—nice,” you finish.

“—beautiful,” Felix breathes, his eyes flicking off to the side abashedly.

Your throat constricts, pulse quickens. Says you. If he was a painting before, you think he’s a sculpture now, his perfection as tangible as if hand-chiseled by the greatest artists of old. As clear as the sun’s beloved sea. You can’t tell if it’s his stylist’s doing or simply a product of him growing into himself.

“Thank you,” you reply quietly. “And thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me. I didn’t think you would.”

“I didn’t do it for me.”

No part of you wants to see the subtle wince that crosses his face at your statement, so you turn your gaze to his jewelry-laden hands instead.

For a split second, you swear you see the same promise ring settled in the same place on his middle finger. You realize what you’re really looking at only after blinking the phosphenes from your eyes: the thin tanline that it left behind. The realization fixes and destroys you all at once.

Then, Byeol starts wailing about Felix’s whereabouts like an actress hired to spare you from this very interaction.

“Her Highness beckons.” The smile you manage feels like drying cement. “Shall we?”

On your way to the kitchen, you notice the cologne emanating from his person smells only of citrus—no lavender. Its absence steadies you, deludes you into believing that it’s a stranger you’ve just let inside.

That illusion lasts for exactly three hours and forty-eight minutes.

It’s clear that the breakup has your family walking on eggshells, but it’s even clearer that their adoration for Felix has never wavered. You’ve never resigned yourself to the restroom so many times in one night, only to stand with your back against the door, unmoving, unfeeling, listening to the low thrum of his voice through the mahogany. Chatting comfortably with your aunt, bursting into laughter with Byeol, reminding you of the time you considered him family too.

With every glance you toss your reflection, you discover new cracks in your composure. Has he noticed them yet?

After you come out of the restroom for the sixth time, you notice a light spilling from Byeol’s bedroom into the hallway. A low Australian accent graces your ears, followed closely by a tinkling giggle, and your body nudges you towards the sounds before your head can intervene.

You give your cousin’s door a feather-light nudge. It opens a few centimeters more and grants you vision of Byeol tucked into bed, Felix knelt at her side. Both of their faces are illuminated by the flaxen light of the nearby lamp.

Felix brushes her choppy bangs out of her eyes, a teasing smile on his lips. “Can I tell you a secret, princess?”

This wrests from her another fluttering laugh; you swear he’s the only person in the whole world who makes her shy. “Sure!”

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Promise.”

“Not even Snernard.”

“M’kay.”

“Or Bong.”

“M’kay.”

“Especially not Trash the chicken. I don’t trust him.”

“I know, I know, I won’t!” Byeol huffs, and Felix laughs at her outburst. You also snort into your sleeve, amused (and deeply perplexed) by your cousin’s plushie-naming conventions.

“Thank you,” he hums, and he lowers his voice enough that you don’t catch the next thing he says.

All you perceive is the way that Byeol reacts. She sits up straight in bed, resting her back against her pillow. Her features rearrange themselves slowly, awfully, like the spread of cherry-flavored cough syrup over one’s sore throat, into the furthest thing from her trademark too-big-for-her-face smile.

Your stomach plummets to your fucking ankle.

“Why?” Her voice sounds microscopic.

“Well, do you remember what Bokkie’s dream job is?”

Byeol considers for a moment. “Being a singer?”

“That’s right.” He runs a knuckle over the hill of her cheek, the action achingly familiar, immensely fond. “And I found a place where I can do that, but it’s very, very far away. I won’t be able to come home very often.”

The telltale signs appear as he speaks; the final word sets them into motion. A tear streaks down the side of Byeol’s face. It hardly leaves the corner of her eye before it’s being intercepted by a doting swipe of his thumb.

“No,” she replies.

“You've grown so much.” Another tear falls. He wipes away that one, too. “You’re growing so well.”

“No,” she repeats.

“You’ve stolen the light of every star in the sky already. The whole galaxy will be yours someday, sweetheart. I know it.”

“I don’t want it,” she whispers. “I want my Bokkie.”

His vision starts to blur also. “But you don’t need me anymore.”

“We do.”

You know the precise moment Felix’s heart pauses in his chest because it is when yours does too.

“We?” He repeats, and she nods.

“Your dream job is being a singer.” Now Byeol is the one to reach for Felix, her delicate hand cupping the curve of his cheek. Her fingers are too small to catch his tears, she tries anyways—

“But what is your dream?”

It becomes too much for you.

You turn around. A choked sob escapes from behind the hand you have sealed to your mouth, causing both heads inside Byeol’s room to whirl in your direction. You don’t care that you nearly break both of your ankles beelining up the stairs; you only care to get the fuck out of that hallway.

You topple into your room, close the door behind you, and crumble.

Your quivering hands find purchase around your folded legs; your eyes squeeze shut against your knees. Rivulets of tears cascade over your shuddering lips like ruptured barrels of wine, left in the cellars of your soul to age, to spoil.

You never wanted your grief to see the light of day. Pouring your regret over every sidewalk wouldn’t change the past. Splashing your heartache across every wall like the world’s most fucked-up mural wouldn’t alleviate the pain of losing him. He was the one who left, but you were the one who’d asked him to. Feeling, yearning, mourning. Those always seemed so futile.

But you’re not just crying in this moment, rocking back and forth on your bedroom floor; you’re bleeding, the wounds you never treated igniting all at once as if exposed to vinegar, leaving you writhing and gasping in their wake. How you wish they’d been able to heal sooner. Maybe then seeing Felix tonight wouldn’t have splintered your soul like dropped porcelain.

Your door clicks open. Your breath hitches in your throat with a quiet scratch. The gulp of oxygen you intake tastes of oranges.

Every night before you fall asleep, you still think of the last time you visited the sea. The cool sand chafing against your toes, the coarse winds slapping your hair against your face hard enough to sting. The weather was terrible (you neglected to check the forecast before making the drive), but when you stepped onto the embittered coastline, you took what felt like the first real breath of your young adulthood. The fog melded to your skin as if melting a blindfold away, showing you the world in its entirety.

You return to that beach when Felix pulls you into his chest, and there’s no fog this time. Just the faint smell of lavender and your ocean, guaranteed to return after momentary departure.

Feverishly, Felix presses his lips to your temple, the apple of your cheek, rests his forehead against yours. Brokenly, he utters, “it’s you.”

You can feel his shaking in every part of him: the tickling breath, the fluttering eyelashes, the unsteady hand that reaches into the pocket of his blazer. You graze your fingers over his jaw, an attempt to steady his careening heart, only to lose yours in the fray also when he produces a small red box of unmistakable dimensions.

“God, it’s you. It always has been, always will be. Anything can change except for this.” His voice disintegrates as he speaks. You disintegrate as you listen. “Everything has changed besides myself.”

Felix leans back in to pepper kisses across the expanse of your wet features, then brings himself to one fated knee. He flicks open the lid. You don’t even spare the ring a glance; you don’t doubt its perfection. All you care to look at is the love of your life, deliquesced to adoration and tearwater.

“Thank you for being around, my dream.” His soft smile tends to your scars like ambrosia. “Will you let me do the same?”

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp ♡

1K notes · View notes

deadghosy · 10 months ago

Text

HOW THEY REACT TO CHILD READER GETTING BULLIED:

Various x GN! CHILD READER

LUCIFER

You were in your chamber holding your busted up backpack as your father comes in happy to see his little angel after school. As he walks in your room he sees your deflated attitude as it affects him as well.

“What’s wrong darling?”

Is what he says as he keeps a calm posture until reveal to him that you are getting by the kids. You told him how the teachers don’t do shit for you as they only watch you get bullied and give shitty advice for you to only ignore them and not do anything as they do stuff to you.

Well, that drives your father, the king himself, THE BIG BOSS OF HELL HIMSELF TO FUMES!

His eyes turning a flashing red as the next thing you know he poofed into a red mist.

You were confused until you heard screaming outside, you checked your big window to see your school in flames. And holy shit….the worse teacher is on fire as Lucifer chuckles saying.

“DONT FUCK WITH MY CHILD!”

He calmed down when he came back home telling you gently that you are now home schooled. He also brings you your favorite ice cream.

ALASTOR

Alastor hums walking through the hotel’s hallway until he hears sniffles of yours.

Alastor opens your door confused with a small smile to see his little doe curled up like a ball on your bed

“My doe…what’s wrong?”

The moment you mutter that you are getting picked on. They’re already dead.

Like literally he sends his shadows to kill them. He doesn’t care as long as you feel safe and sound.

He might as well home school you as well with the help of Charlie teaching you things beside him.

ADAM

I HARDLYYYYY doubt that there are bullies in heaven as heaven isn’t for sinners or such as people who act rude as hell.

But let’s just say you get bullied for not getting your wings yet and you come home mad and ashamed for even being an angel.

Adam was on his Xbox seeing his own child stomp off to their room, he raises a brow going to your room.

“Yo kiddo. What’s up with you, little shit?” He asked as he knocks on your door only for you to yell at him to leave you alone. Adam scoffs and unlocks your door pissed off.

“Who the fuck you think you’re…yelling at?” He stops seeing your tear filled face as you cover yourself under your blanket. He actually looks concerned and sits on your bed awkwardly not knowing how to comfort you but he pats your back as you nuzzle against his larger Frame of your father.

You told him what happened and he is pissed but not raged. He starts to lecture you about how you are the dickmaster’s child, so you should show them how fucking powerful you are.

He also tells sera about this so she can get them a punishment about how be a perfect angel.

CHARLIE

You straight up told her you were getting bullied for having two moms. And she took this to the principal of the school as the princess, future queen probably of hell.

Let’s say the principal didn’t give a fuck. So okay maybe she got big mad and almost spit fire at the lady in charge of your school. But she exited that school letting you treat yourself with ice cream and treats.

She decided to homeschool you with VAGGIE and the other hotel staff to teach you things they know.

“Mommy has a treat for you!”

It was the best day ever for you as you felt happy to spending time with your mom.

Maybe it won’t be bad to be homeschooled

VAGGIE

You got bullied for the same reason.

Having two awesome gay moms. Of course you told your mom straight up as she nodded scheduling to meet the kid’s parents. She’s not backing down like a pussy cause she wants to know why they want to bully her kid.

After the little conference filled of yelling and berating to the point vaggie thrown a pocket knife pass a person (pilot reference) she left picking you off fuming with steam.

Of course Charlie calmed her down and suggested you either get homeschooled or find a better school. Which VAGGIE will agree either way with one of them.

“Let’s go home kiddo. Your momma is making your favorite…”

“YAYY!”

ANGEL DUST

He obviously didn’t know what to do.

You got bullied by your peers as one of the older kids figured out that your father is an adult actor. I mean damn. You fought back saying that you didn’t care and he stilled loved you.

But then your ass got cracked and you had to tell your father

Angel dust just takes you out of school and let’s Charlie teach you things so he can figure out how to make you feel safe at another school of such

“DONT worry kid. I’ll figure a way for me to a shame to you.

“But you aren’t! I love you papa!”

HUSK

You’re getting bullied?

Bet.

Literally he isn’t gonna do shit, he is just gonna go to that school obverse and single them out for bullying his child. He doesn’t give a shit if it’s a kid as well.

He might as well be the kinda of dad that lets you fight your own battles. But he can’t let you just come home crying about how shitty your school is.

“Wanna chill with your old man?”

“Sure pops…”

PENTIOUS

Sir Pentious was bringing you cookies like the one he made for Lucifer. He hums happily with his egg boiz behind him. He walks in your room to see one of his egg boiz, Frank patting your back while you cry softly.

“DONT worry lil boss. I think you’re amazing!” Frank says as Pentious was confused and sit the cookies down. Your snake father asked what was wrong when you told him what happened after school.

Pentious pufffs out his chest as he kisses your head and leaves the hotel to talk to Charlie about this event. Charlie have a decent answer to either talk to the kids parents or homecschool at least. But Pentious felt like that wasn’t enough.

So he bombed their houses with his egg boiz as he came back to the hotel to see Frank and you eating snacks Charlie and vaggie made you to feel better. Your snake father slithered next to you and pats your head.

“Now they shall never bother you again!” *evil laughter*

#hazbin pentious #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin x you #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x child reader #hazbin vaggie #hazbin husk #hazbin lucifer #gender netural

1K notes · View notes

libraford · 1 year ago

Text

Sometimes, I forget how good of a photographer I am.

I'm doing sports candids at a high school. School is in the middle of nowhere. There is no cell reception. Its homecoming. Theres a million cameras.

Its middle of the second period and I see a professional looking photographer struggling with her camera. There are two dudes nearby also struggling, same uniform. But I know that look of desperation because I've been there. Guy 1 is fussing with video camera. Guy 2 is on the phone, but like I said- theres no cell service here.

"Are you having trouble?"

"Oh my god, do you know cameras?"

"Take a picture, show me what it looks like."

She takes a picture, shows it to me. Its blown out and blurry.

"It has to be on the sports setting because I'm shooting sports. But I cant get it to work right. This thing is old and busted."

"Shutter speed too low, looks like 1/60."

"What?"

"Can I fiddle with it?"

Mind you, theres a whole football game happening in front of us. The videographer and the guy on the phone are watching me very closely.

It's a different camera than mine, but it's the same brand.

"I'm putting you on manual, but you have to trust me."

"I... dont have a choice. Everything is malfunctioning."

I put it on manual, fast shutter speed, high ISO. Take a shot, dont like it, fiddle with it again. Take a shot, hand it back.

"Try it."

She takes a shot. "Its a little blurry."

"Bump up the shutter speed to 1/300. It will be darker, so the ISO goes up, too."

She does this. "Holy shit, I've never taken photos like this before! These are better than anything I've ever done! Thank you! You just saved all our asses."

"Congrats, you're now shooting in manual- you have full control of how light enters the sensor in your camera. And that makes you a pro."

She starts catching back up with photos. Her dudes come over to me and say "seriously, from the bottom of our hearts, thank you so so much. Our video equipment went down and we can't get ahold if anyone."

"No problem. But out of curiosity, who are yall with?"

They give the name of the news section that covers local sports.

I just taught a photojournalist manual mode in less than a minute.

...I'm pretty sure they just give a camera to whoever is on staff and dont tell them how to work it.

That's frustrating to me.

706 notes · View notes

corroded-hellfire · 2 years ago

Text

As You Wish - Eddie Munson x Reader, Part 2

This was a collaboration with my dearest @munson-blurbs 💚

Summary: After you and Eddie have given into your feelings for one another, complications arise that were never part of your fantasies.

Note from Red: The love I received for part one of this story blew me away. I absolutely could not believe it. It was a labor of love and the fact that so many of you wanted more just made it even better. Thank you all for your love and kind messages. Feel free to keep requesting stories from this universe 💕

Note from Bug: I’m so grateful that Red allowed me to collaborate with her on this amazing series. I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), infidelity, age gap (reader is 20, Eddie is 32)

Words: 7k

Part One | All stories in this verse

“Fuck, Eddie!”

You’re in the back of his car—correction, Brittany’s car, since she’d told him to bring it to the shop and fix a busted taillight. If it was anyone else, you would’ve assumed she’d asked him, but with Brittany, you knew it was a demand. You straddle Eddie’s waist, his grease-smudged coveralls and plaid boxers shucked down to his ankles; your skirt is pushed up to your hips, panties somewhere on the floor. Eddie had practically ripped them off once you two were alone.

Eddie’s lunch break happened to coincide with the end of your classes for the day, so you’d happily gone to visit him at work. When his eyes first landed on you and dipped down to your skirt, you knew what you were going to spend the hour doing.

It had been two weeks since the night you first slept together, and it was the happiest two weeks you could ever remember having. Of course, the kids didn’t know what was going on, so it was important to both of you to keep up the façade of your usual relationship in front of the boys. Since Brittany came home from work shortly after Eddie, that didn’t give the two of you any time alone without the boys around. That meant there were stolen kisses, longing looks, or lingering touches when the boys weren’t paying attention. Brittany knew, obviously. She knew from that first night when she’d come out of the master bedroom and practically threw your jeans in your face and all you did was wink at her. What could she say, though? Nothing that wouldn’t make her a hypocrite along with an adulteress and pathological liar.

Eddie’s thrusting up into you now, pinning your hips down so he can get impossibly deep inside you. “Holy shit, sweetheart,” he pants, sucking a harsh bruise into your chest. “Keep sayin’ my name like that and you’ll make me blow my load.”

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you moan; half teasing him and half because he just feels so damn good. You bounce on his cock, matching his rhythm. He’s already given you two orgasms, and you’re approaching your third. His thick finger makes its way to your clit, rubbing quick circles over it, and you cry out at the overstimulation. “P-Please, Eddie; can’t take much more.”

“You’ll—fuck—take whatever I give you,” he orders through gritted teeth, but his eyes tell you that he doesn’t want to hurt you. You dig your nails into his shoulders, bracing yourself for him to quicken his pace so he can finish.

“Eddie,” you moan out again—and he wasn’t lying before. The sound of you saying his name again has his hips snapping up against yours, and the feeling of his cock twitching against your walls lets you know he’s about to come. His finger keeping a strong pressure on your clit, you bury your face in his neck as you feel your orgasm start to wash over you. “Fuck, I’m coming.”

It’s all Eddie needs to hear before he’s spilling inside of you, hips stuttering against your own as he works you both through the pleasure. You press kisses against the side of Eddie’s neck as you start to come down from your high, smiling against his sweaty skin. His hands loosen their grip on your hips, and instead of the bruising pressure he now rubs his fingers up your sides.

“Y’with me, baby?” He smiles, kissing you again. This time, his touch is tender and loving, a stark contrast to his animalistic hunger just moments earlier. “God, you’re so beautiful when you come for me. You’re always beautiful, but, I mean, damn.” He licks his lips, making you giggle. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world to be with you, I swear.”

“Funny,” you say, resting your head against his shoulder. “I lay in bed at night thinking about how I’m the luckiest girl in the world. After I make myself come while thinking of you, that is.”

“Of course,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “Not gonna need to do that tonight, huh? Did I wear you out, pretty girl?” His calloused hands against your soft skin have goosebumps breaking out along your flesh.

“Yes,” you say, body still thrumming from the three orgasms. Picking your head up from his shoulder, you give him a sly smile. “Not bad for an old man.”

“Old man?!” he sputters, faking offense. “Baby doll, I’m 32 years young.” You stick your tongue out at him, reveling in the giddiness that being with him brings, and he leans over and licks your nose.

“Ew!” You can’t stop laughing, making it nearly impossible to kiss him like you want. “You boys never grow up, huh?”

Eddie flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Nope!” He smacks your ass and helps you readjust your skirt. “C’mon, we can split a sandwich for lunch. Bet my girl worked up an appetite.” He winks at you, and your stomach flutters at the words my girl. There’s a pang of disappointment with it, too, because you’re not really his girl. If you were, you wouldn’t be relegated to fucking in secrecy.

“Um, Eddie?” you murmur as he starts to open the door. “I’m, um, missing something.” When he looks at you with a puzzled expression, you whisper, “have you seen my panties?”

“Oh, shit,” he says, hand abandoning the door handle. He helps you look around the floor of the car, barking out a laugh when neither of you finds them. “What the hell?”

“How did they just disappear?” you ask, brow pinched in concern. Standing up as much as you can in the cramped space, you lean into the front seat to look. Eddie glances up and abandons the search when he gets a look at your pussy, his cum still leaking out.

“Fuck, what a view,” he muses. Looking over your shoulder at him, you roll your eyes and plop back down in the seat next to him. You swat him on the chest, and he catches your wrist, leaning in to press kisses to the side of your face as he laughs. “Think you’re gonna have to go home and get a new pair before you pick the boys up from school. And maybe some pants instead of that skirt, too. Unless you want me pulling you into my room and telling the boys I have to have a nice, long talk with you.”

“Hmm,” you grin, biting your lower lip. “It would be nice to have sex in a bed instead of the backseat of a car.” Of her car, nonetheless.

Eddie laces his fingers through yours and pulls you towards his chest. “How about,” he starts, leaning his head on the headrest, “I get us a hotel room one of these days. We stay up all night, sleep in real late, and then order room service for breakfast in bed.”

“That sounds incredible,” you agree, bringing your lips to the back of his hand. “When can this little vacation happen?”

“This weekend?” he suggests, but the light in his eyes dims as quickly as it appears. “Shit, wait. I told Brittany I’d wait at home for the plumber while she…does whatever the fuck, with whoever the fuck.”

Brittany. Brittany Brittany Brittany. You want to feel sympathy for him, but you just can’t. A scream lingers in your throat, but you swallow it down. “No, I get it.” But you don’t. You don’t understand how he can have someone who cares about him, who loves him, right in front of him, and continue to stay with the woman who breaks his heart time and time again.

“Rain check, baby? I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He gives you those puppy dog eyes that you’re pretty sure could have him getting away with murder. You hate that it works on you so well, but it does.

“Guess since you just gave me three orgasms, I’ll say okay.” Even if you don’t want to. But for now, you’ll let it go. “Now, where’s that sandwich?”

The rain outside provides a calming sound as you’re curled up on the Munson couch, Ryan tucked into your side as he reads to you from his favorite book. He’s so proud that he got an A on his spelling test today and his excitement is contagious. So, when he asked if you wanted to know what his favorite book was about, of course you’d said yes. Or rather, his favorite book this week.

“When the puppy ran down the street, the little boy chased him,” Ryan reads to you. Luke is sitting on the carpet near your feet, tongue poked out in concentration as he fashions his Legos together to make, what you assume, is supposed to be a fire truck.

The doorknob rattles and your stomach jumps for joy as Eddie makes his way inside. He shakes his hair out like a dog coming out of the bath, and it makes both the boys giggle. You just watch him adoringly and he shoots a wink your way when he notices.

“My boys!” He holds his arms out wide, and Luke and Ryan bolt over and give him a giant hug. “How were our little rascals tonight, baby—uh, babysitter?” His cheeks flush red as he realizes his slip-up; luckily, the boys don’t seem to notice.

You clear your throat. “Just the absolute worst,” you joke, watching their little jaws drop at your response. “Destroyed the house, yelled and screamed the whole time, and refused to do any of their homework.” You hold out your hand, keeping a straight face. “Just pay me and consider this my resignation.”

“My angels would never!” Eddie gasps, flinging his arms around your torso and pulling your back to his chest. “Boys, don’t let her leave!” Ryan and Luke cackle with laughter, each grabbing one of your legs and clinging on for dear life.

“I’m under attack!” You unsuccessfully try to shake the kids off, inadvertently pressing your ass to Eddie’s groin. You’d put on a new pair of panties after your lunchtime tryst, but you kept the same skirt.

Luke grips tighter, his hands now on your thigh. “Hey, Gollum,” Eddie says to him, breaking character for a second, “watch where you’re putting your grubby paws.” Luke nods and brings his hands back towards your knee.

“Thanks,” you whisper to Eddie, your voice barely audible.

“Gotta look out for my girl,” he murmurs in your ear, and you freeze at the pet name. The words sound so lovely coming out of his mouth, directed towards you. But there’s still this little voice in the back of your head telling you that it’s not true. And for once, that voice is right.

“Okay, okay,” you say, looking down at the boys. “You got me! I’ll stay!” Ryan and Luke release you, cheers of their victory being shouted as they dance around you. Eddie’s grip loosens on you, and you step out of his arms, crouching down to be at the same level as the boys. “Homework done?” You look at them and they both nod their heads. “Baths?” They both give you sheepish looks and you’ve gotten your answer. “Why don’t you go take your baths now? That way after dinner you can play a game with daddy?” The boys both give their dad excited looks before they slip down the hall and towards the bathroom.

“Volunteering me to play games, huh?” Eddie asks, snaking his arms around your hips once the bathroom door can be heard closing. He pulls his body against yours and your nose wrinkles up when you see all the dirt and oil on his blue coveralls.

“You need to take that thing off,” you say. Immediately, there’s a spark in Eddie’s eyes and a smile’s already on your face before he’s done anything. But you know the crazy tactics his mind comes up with, so you’re curious.

“Take it off, huh?” Eddie says, taking a few steps back from you. His hand goes to his zipper, and he starts to pull it down at a glacial pace. “This would be better if I had some music.”

“Should I put on Madonna? Or maybe Billy Joel?” you tease. His eyes narrow at you as he gets the coveralls down his shoulders. Once his arms slip out, you have to admit that this pseudo-striptease is working for you. Eddie recognizes he’s got you now, and he starts to swing his hips back and forth, which just makes you burst out into giggles.

“What?” he asks, body never pausing in its movements.

“Babe, you know I adore you. You’re handsome, you’re kind, you’re hilarious, a great dad. But you can’t dance.” The laughter spilling out of you has Eddie joining in as well. “It was hot until then.”

“Fine,” he says as he stills his hips. “I’ll just take my clothes off for you then.” You raise your eyebrows and cross your arms over your chest, ready to watch the show unfold in front of you. It’s hard for him to find a sexy way to step out of the coveralls, so he just kicks them off and to the side. When he takes his t-shirt off, he steps forward towards you, rolling the shirt until it looks like a long piece of rope. He brings it to the small of your back and uses it to pull your body up against his.

He smirks down at you and you’re just about to lean in for a kiss when the front door opens. Both you and Eddie turn to look and see Brittany coming in. She slips a raincoat off and hangs it on a peg near the door. When she turns, she freezes as she eyes the two of you. Eddie shirtless, you pressed flush up against him.

“Please tell me the boys aren’t seeing this bullshit?” she asks, as if she suddenly has an interest in the well-being of her children.

“No,” Eddie huffs at her. “They’re taking a bath.”

Her cold eyes scan you up and down before she scoffs and makes her way back towards the master bedroom.

“So, uh,” you back away, letting your gaze drop to the ground, “mood officially ruined.”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs, running a hand through his curls. “I’m sorry; you should get going.” He picks up the discarded coveralls and digs into his pocket for his wallet, handing you a twenty.

You nod and accept the money, cheeks burning with embarrassment. What, were you expecting an invitation to dinner after his wife just caught you about to suck face? “See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he affirms. His expression seems lost, though you can’t quite pinpoint it exactly. You wonder if he feels the same heartbreak as you.

Eddie walks you to the door, giving you one last kiss before you go. It’s soft and sweet, but there’s something tainting it. After Eddie closes the door behind you and locks it for the night, he starts on dinner. The meal goes surprisingly well for an evening in the Munson household. There’s no shouting, no arguing, and Brittany even asked Luke about school. The little boy was clearly shocked but proceeded to tell her about the hamster someone brought for show and tell today. Tucking the boys into bed was suddenly a team effort, more than Brittany’s usual quick kiss on the cheek before practically shoving them into their rooms.

Once they’re both in bed, Eddie grabs a towel and heads into the bathroom for a shower. He closes the door and turns the water almost as hot as it can go. He steps in and does his usual routine. Quick rinse of the body, grab the soap and suds up, then grabs his dick in his hand and starts to think about you.

The way you showed up at the shop in that little skirt, begging to be touched. The way your tight pussy clenched around his cock as you rode him. The way you said his name over and over like a prayer—dammit, Madonna was right. He lets out a terse laugh, making a mental note to tell you tomorrow.

“Y’like that, baby?” Eddie groans softly, tugging on his hardening length. “Like the way I fill up all your holes, hm? Gonna take it all for me, my good girl?” He imagines you on your knees in front of him, obediently swirling your perfect tongue around his sensitive head as he fucks your face. “What’s that, sweetheart? You want it in your mouth? God, you’re so fuckin’ good to me.”

He stops for a second, practically edging himself, before running his slick palm over his shaft again. “But I really need your pussy tonight, baby. Need that tight, wet, perfect pussy. Jus’ like that, fuck.” He’s got a mental image of you bent over, leaning on the hood of a cherry red convertible, that damned skirt pushed up as he pistons into you from behind. “Yes, yes, oh, fuck YES!” Thick, hot ropes of cum spill into his hand and onto the shower tile as Eddie moans your name out louder than he intended. He freezes as the bathroom door swings open. There’s a pause, then a few footsteps closer to the shower, then the door closes.

“If you’re gonna fantasize about the kids’ babysitter, at least don’t let them hear. Can’t have them growing up and acting like you.”

Eddie’s jaw clenches and he lets his softening cock fall from his hand. He tries so hard to let the things she says roll off his back, but sometimes he just can’t help it. “Acting like me, huh?” He rinses his hand off and wipes his cum from the shower wall. “You mean, working hard trying to support my family?” He snatches his shampoo bottle up and squeezes some into his palm. “Wanting to spend every free second with my kids? Yeah, what a shame that would be.” Eddie scrubs the shampoo into his hair, fingers massaging his scalp as he works the citrus scented foam through his locks.

“No, I mean the part where you seem to think you’re in some porno film, fulfilling some sick fantasy. You realize she’s a kid, right?”

“She’s not a fucking kid,” Eddie snaps, pulling the shower curtain back just enough to glare at Brittany. “Can I finish my shower in peace, please?”

Brittany shrugs, holding her hands up in front of her. “You’re the one who sounded like you wanted some company in here.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he mutters under his breath, staying quiet for the boys’ sake, not hers.

Coming home from work has always been Eddie’s favorite part of the day. How could it not be when he knows he gets to see you and his kids when he gets there? But ever since you and Eddie got together—if you could even call it that—he loved coming home even more. He couldn’t tell you the last time he came home from work to be greeted by Brittany, happy to see him. It’s been at least two years.

But that’s exactly what happens when Eddie gets home today. His heart plummets when instead of your gold car in the driveway Eddie sees the red one that he just fucked you in the other day. Begrudgingly, he steps inside the house, ready to focus on his boys and only his boys. Eddie is in for the shock of his life though, when Brittany flounces up to him and presses a kiss to his lips. When was the last time that happened?

“Hi, honey,” Brittany says in a sickeningly sweet voice. The smile on her face is a mask, Eddie knows. She’s been lying to him for long enough that he’s able to tell.

“Um, hi,” Eddie says, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What are you doing home so early?”

“Thought I’d start the weekend a little early with my boys.” She takes the keys from Eddie’s hand and puts them on the table in the hall next to hers before slipping her hand into his. Eddie’s becoming more and more confused by the second. “Why don’t you get washed up and we all go out for dinner?”

“Uh, I’m kind of tired,” Eddie says, which isn’t a lie. But mostly he just doesn’t want to go out with her. “Do you mind if we just stay in? We can order takeout?”

“Whatever my husband wants,” Brittany says, a fake smile plastered on her face as she tugs Eddie along behind her. “Now, you go get cleaned up and I’ll finish up helping the boys with their homework.” Indeed, as Eddie walks past the kitchen to get to his bedroom, the boys are both at the table, pencils scratching away on paper.

Luke and Ryan tell their parents about their days while the family sits around the table, devouring Chinese food. It’s what Eddie’s always wanted–family dinners, sharing stories–except something still doesn’t feel right.

“And then Tyler kicked the ball, and it hit Jimmy right in the stomach!” Ryan exclaims, eyes wide as he relays the events of recess. “Jimmy almost threw up his lunch, and we had macaroni and cheese today, so that would’ve been nasty.”

“Super nasty,” Luke echoes, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“That’s nice, honey,” Brittany responds absently, spearing a piece of sesame chicken with a plastic fork. “Glad you had fun at school.”

Eddie catches the confused look on his eldest son’s face. “I think Mommy means that the whole thing sounded exciting.” He’s not entirely sure why he’s trying to cover for his wife, but it seems to placate the situation for now.

After everyone is full, Brittany cleans up while Eddie gets the boys ready for bed. After their usual routine, including an extra two bedtime stories, they finally fall asleep. Eddie kisses each of their foreheads, silent apologies for their mother’s behavior at dinner.

All he wants to do is go to bed, get a good night’s sleep–maybe dream about you–but Brittany’s waiting in their room in a black lace teddy. It’s been a long time since they’ve had sex, so he’s understandably caught off-guard.

“Hi, baby,” she coos, dragging a painted fingernail down his chest. “Wanna have a little fun tonight?” She presses her body against him, and Eddie could kick himself for involuntarily starting to get hard. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She brings her lips to his neck, smearing her lipstick on his collarbones.

“N-Not now,” Eddie stammers out, frozen in place.

“C’mon,” she protests, grabbing his erection and making him hiss at the sensation. “I know you want another baby. Why don’t we get started tonight?” She nibbles at his earlobe, whispering, “want you to get me pregnant, Eddie.”

Eddie pulls back before she can fully draw him in. She’s so familiar; it would be too easy to fall into bed with her and pretend like nothing’s wrong. Just the average married couple making love on a Friday night. But he can’t do it anymore. “No, Britt. I…I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Brittany’s sensual expression quickly turns to anger. “Seriously?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “You’ll fuck the babysitter, but not your wife?”

“Can you stop calling her the babysitter?” Eddie retorts. “She has a name.”

“Yeah, I know; I heard you moaning it in the shower last night,” Brittany scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I can’t believe you. You’re willing to throw away the life we’ve built together, forcing your kids to have a broken home, all so you can live out some twisted fantasy with a girl who’ll dump you once she finds a younger model?”

He’s stunned into silence. He knows all too well what a broken home looks like; he remembers the utter chaos of his parents’ rage before he went to live with Wayne. The nights where his mom would scream at his dad until her voice was hoarse and scratchy or until he drove off to God-knows-where. He’d never wanted that for his own children.

“You know what?” Brittany’s shrill voice punctures his rambling thoughts. “Fuck whoever you want. I don’t care anymore.” She stomps towards the bathroom and slams the door shut behind her, making Eddie grimace. He waits for one of the kids to wake up from all the clamor, but no one comes in the room.

It’s not until after he’s gone to bed that his worst nightmare occurs to him: they’re already used to it.

You’ve barely slept since Brittany caught you and Eddie about to kiss; your brain is overwhelmed with anxiety. You feel like some kind of slut, messing around with a married man, regardless of how awful his wife is. And it’s pathetic how easily you’ll do whatever he asks, desperate to keep him, when he’s never fully belonged to you in the first place.

You’re being selfish, wanting him all to yourself. He has a whole family, and you’re just a way for him to get what Brittany isn’t giving him.

You have to talk to him. You have to know where he stands. He cares about you, that much is obvious. But is it enough?

Since he told you he was going to be home on Saturday to wait for the plumber, you know this is a good time for you to go over. The kids will most likely be there, but hopefully you can somehow squeeze in some alone time to talk to Eddie. The whole ride there your stomach is in a nervous knot. This is what you wanted, your brain tells you. You wanted him to kiss you and care for you and sleep with you. But maybe it was worse to have a taste if you could never really have the whole meal.

Hand shaking as you raise your fist to knock, you try to steel yourself. It’s still Eddie you’re talking to. The same caring and loving man that you’ve been dreaming about forever.

When he answers the door, you can tell he was expecting you to be the plumber. But his face switches from polite smile to full out glee in a fraction of a second. It knocks the breath out of you because you know you’re the only one lucky enough to have that smile aimed your way.

“Hey! This is a nice surprise,” Eddie says. He grabs your hand and tugs you inside. One arm wraps around your waist while the other closes the door behind you. The kids must not be nearby because he leans in and presses a kiss to your lips. “You know, you’re pretty hot for a plumber. Here to check my pipe?” The smirk on his face is so endearing and playful that you almost want to abandon the conversation you need to have with him. Deep down you know that you can’t, though.

“Mm, maybe later,” you say, resting your hands on his chest. “Where are the boys?”

“In Ryan’s room. Either they’re playing quietly, or they’ve killed each other,” he jokes, but he becomes solemn when he sees that you’re not laughing along. “I-I’m kidding; they’re both very much still alive.”

“I need to talk to you about something, Eddie.”

His mind spins all over the place in a matter of moments, trying to read on your face what could be wrong. His eyes scan up and down your body, assessing if you’re hurt anywhere. But as his eyes move back up to your face, a thought flickers to life in his mind as he gazes at your stomach. Unable to tamper down the joy that comes at the mere thought, a smile graces his lips.

“Are you..?” He trails off, eyes darting back towards your stomach.

“What?” you ask, before catching his meaning. “No! Oh no, Eddie, I’m not pregnant.” The way the smile melts off his face makes your heart lurch in your chest. He really wants to have a baby with you? He got that excited after only being “together�� for two weeks?

“Oh,” he says, disappointment clear in his voice. “Well, what’s up?”

Taking a deep breath, you grip his hand in yours and lead him over to the couch. His eyebrows are furrowed as he sits down next to you, his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand. The concern in his eyes feels the opposite of butterflies in your stomach. It feels like moths were drawn to the light only to be killed by a bug zapper. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Shit, you really should’ve figured out how you were going to start this conversation.

“I, um, I need to tell you how I’ve been feeling,” you say. “And I want to know how you’ve been feeling, too.”

“Okay,” Eddie drags out the word, a frown creasing his forehead. “Are you all right?”

You’re not sure what the honest answer to that question is. “I’m feeling guilty, Eddie. B-Because you’re still married. And I know you care about me, but you have a family here. Am I just…” you break off and take a deep breath. “Is this thing between you and me only because you want the attention and affection that you’re not getting from Brittany?”

“What?” Eddie’s baffled by the question. He shakes his head, trying to make things make sense in his mind. “You think I only want you for what my wife isn’t giving me? What, you think I just want to sleep with you?”

“That’s not exactly…” Again, you trail off, not sure what the right words are. “It’s just that you haven’t really made any steps towards leaving her. I’m not saying to pack up your stuff and leave. But…I just want to see you doing something, I guess.” You fidget with your thumbs. “I can be with you, or I can be your kids’ babysitter. But I…I can’t be both anymore.”

Eddie massages the bridge of his nose as he contemplates his options. “I want you,” he states plainly, “but it’s not that simple.” He thinks of what Brittany said last night, about breaking up his family. His boys having to split their time between Mom and Dad.

His hesitation gives you all of the answers you need. “I’m not asking you to choose,” you tell him. “I…I’m telling you that I can’t do this anymore. I’m not going to force something that isn’t meant to happen. I just have to take care of myself.”

Eddie’s beautiful brown eyes mist over. “No,” he mumbles, gnawing on his lower lip anxiously. “I want to take care of you. I want to take care of my girl.”

“Stop calling me that,” you choke out, tears burning behind your eyes. You try to blink them away before he can see.

Eddie’s thick eyebrows pinch together. “I thought you liked it,” he says. Concern is written all over his face.

“Look, I get it. You and Brittany are married, have kids together—you can’t just pick up and go.” There’s no use trying to hide your emotions, and you heave out a sob. “I was the Other Woman, and that’s just something I have to accept, I guess. But you have to stop calling me your girl. Because I’m not.” Your eyes dart to the coffee table, where a frame holds a photo of Eddie and Brittany on their wedding day. They look so in love, and it’s a punch to the gut to realize you’ll never have that with him. “She is.”

“No.” Eddie shakes his head, curls bouncing. His heart breaks, knowing he’s caused you to feel this way. “No, she’s not. Not anymore. It’s you, baby. Only you.” He starts to reach out to wipe away your tears, but you jerk back.

“If we were just having fun, that’s fine. But I need to hear you say it.” You muster up all of the courage you can. “And you need to stop calling me your girl, or baby, or whatever other cute nicknames you come up with.”

Eddie lets his hands drop to his side. He stares at you forlornly. “I don’t…I can’t…”

“Me either.” You can’t meet his gaze as your trembling hand turns the doorknob. “Goodbye, Eddie.” You pull the door closed behind you, vision blurred as you hurry to your car. You leave behind a stunned Eddie Munson, stuck in place as he watches his world crumble.

“Fuck!” he yells, slamming his fist into the wall so hard that it dents. He hisses as the pain sets in.

“Dad?” A small voice calls from behind him. Eddie looks to find Ryan peering out worriedly from the kitchen. He hadn’t heard him leave his room. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie tries to reassure him, but his voice catches. He clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, buddy; I’m okay.”

“Did she leave?” Eddie didn’t even realize that the kids knew you were here.

Eddie glances out the window to see that your car is no longer in front of the house. “Yeah,” he says sadly. “She’s gone.”

Brittany comes home after the plumber’s been gone for hours. After Eddie fed and bathed the kids, all on his own. After he tucked them in and kissed them goodnight. Eddie wonders if she was spending time with more than one of her boyfriends today. It doesn’t matter, though. It hasn’t mattered to him for months. There’s no pain whatsoever associated with being cheated on or lied to. That nerve went dead a long time ago.

The pain he feels right now doesn’t really have to do with Brittany at all. It all falls on him, in his own mind. He was the dumbass who finally had the girl he had been pining over for the longest time. Found out she returned the feelings, even when Eddie thought no one would ever love or want him again. The woman who made him feel cared for and important. Who had made him truly happy for the first time in God knows how long.

Apparently, the pain is clear on his face as he stares at the television, eyes not really absorbing whatever is playing on the screen. Brittany hangs up her coat and strolls over towards him.

“What’s the matter?” she asks. “Did your little girlfriend have to be home before curfew? She wouldn’t want to get grounded, would she?”

“Fuck off, Brittany,” Eddie says, glazed over eyes not even bothering to look in her direction. She doesn’t, of course. She takes a few steps closer, the heels of her shoes thumping against the carpet. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie sees her cross her arms over her chest. Her hip juts out to the side and he knows this isn’t going to end well.

“So, have you learned your lesson?” she asks. That makes him finally look over at her, face scrunching up.

“What?” he asks.

“She already found someone better, didn’t she? Probably just wanted you because she couldn’t have you. Or that’s what she thought, anyway. But you caved because she still has that new baby smell about her, right?”

Eddie pushes himself off the couch, jaw clenching as he stares her down. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Just because your God damned harem of men think it’s hot to be fucking someone who’s married—if you even told them—doesn’t mean that everyone is like that.”

“A harem is made up of women, you idiot,” she scoffs.

“That’s what you fucking took away from what I just said?” Eddie’s hands come up to grab at his hair, his fury and heartbreak reaching a boiling point. “You’re incredible. You know, I’ve known about your affairs for years. Fucking years, Brittany. Years. I was terrified Luke wasn’t even mine but thank God the kid looks just like me. And you know, I accepted it after a while. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I was beyond pissed and hurt. But you, with your psychotic ways, made me think that no one else would ever care about me. Would ever want me. And that’s why you’re so mad now, isn’t it? Because I don’t feel so fucking worthless anymore. Because someone made me feel important after all your years of you trying to do the opposite.”

He takes a few deep breaths, his pulse raging and his breathing labored from behind so worked up. Brittany is looking at him with fire in her eyes, but Eddie doesn’t care. This explosion was long overdue and she was going to stand there and take it. “And yeah, maybe she’s young. Too young for me? Probably. But that’s not fucking up to you. That’s between me and her. But don’t you dare insinuate that I only want her because she’s young and beautiful. She is everything this world needs more of. Kind, caring, compassionate. Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot that you don’t know what those words even mean. I’d love her even if she was seventy-five and had more wrinkles than my shirts do after you attempt to do the laundry.”

It’s not until Brittany’s eyes widen that Eddie realizes what he just said. He loves you. It just came out with the litany of other words that spewed from his mouth, but he finds these to be truest of everything he said. God, I’m a fucking idiot, he thinks to himself.

Brittany stalks forward, a lioness about to devour her prey. If there was fire in her eyes before, now there’s an inferno. She grabs Eddie’s hand in one of hers, holding it palm up to the sky. With the other hand, she pulls something out of her purse and slaps it in his hand.

“Here,” she seethes. Eddie looks down and sees the pair of green lace panties you had lost in Brittany’s car. His fingers curl up around the material. He takes his hand that’s clutching the lace and holds it against his chest.

“You’re pathetic,” Brittany sneers. “We both know you won’t actually leave me. That would require you to grow a pair.” She walks into the kitchen and grabs a cupcake from the fridge; Eddie recognizes it as one that you brought over for the boys. “Have your fun, Eddie. I’ll be waiting for you to come crawling back with your tail between your legs once you realize you’ll never have anyone as good as me.”

He wants to yell back at her, call her all the names in the book, blame her for cheating first. But she’s right–he’s a coward, too afraid to make waves. Instead of committing to the woman he wants to be with, he stays with the one he feels obligated to be with. He grabs his pillow from the bedroom, trudging to the couch for the night. He can’t bear to share a bed with someone who isn’t you.

Eddie can’t sleep, of course. Too many things are going through his head. I don’t want my kids to come from a broken family. But do I want them to grow up like this? Hearing their parents scream at each other at the top of their lungs? It’s not an example of a healthy relationship either, Eddie knows. And even at five and seven-years-old they already know their mom isn’t there for them. She doesn’t listen to them, show them affection, or even take care of them, really. Sometimes it feels like Eddie is a single parent. Although, that might be easier than this, he thinks.

But then he thinks about how you are with the boys. Always taking care to make sure they know you’re listening to them, that you hear them. Being firm but never mean when they act up. Buying them things with your own money just because you thought they’d like it. How excited they get when they see you, running over and smothering you in hugs and hellos. How much happier they are around you than they are Brittany. He’s seen the way they’ve physically cringed away from their own mother before. But with you, they never get enough. They always want one more hug, one more game, one more song. Yet, you never get annoyed by it. Most of the time, you agree to it. If Eddie is sure of one thing in life, it’s that you’re meant to be a mother. But did he miss the chance to share in that with you?

A tear snakes down the side of Eddie’s face and the heel of his hand comes up to rub at his eye. He sighs and turns on his side on the couch, adjusting the blanket on top of him. Something soft presses into Eddie’s hip, pressed between his body and the couch. He lifts his body enough to slip his hand into the pocket of his pajama pants. When he looks at the offending item, it’s your panties that Brittany had handed him before. A sniffle comes from Eddie as he balls up the lace in his hand. After holding it for a few minutes, Eddie slips the material back into his pocket.

Crying over a pair of panties, Munson? he thinks, that’s a new one. He flicks on the TV, desperate for a distraction. A rerun of that old crime show, Vega$, is playing. Eddie watches as Robert Urich struts across the street past a flashing neon sign advertising “Girls Girls Girls!!”

Eddie sits up so quickly that the blood rushes to his head. As soon as the dots clear from his vision, he’s grabbing the phone book.

At Eddie’s bachelor party, Steve had drunkenly married a stripper. He’d woken up the next morning and immediately got a lawyer, and it was like the whole thing never happened. Eddie knows his case won’t be so straightforward—he’s been married way longer than 24 hours, for one thing—but the lawyer who’d handled Steve’s divorce made it as painless as possible.

He finds the guy’s name and number and tears out the page, tucking it under his pillow. He’ll call first thing in the morning. And then he’s going to win back the love of his life.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #ayw #AYWS

3K notes · View notes

wufflesvetinari · 11 months ago

Text

having now gotten to lae’zel’s act 3 romance: holy shit she busts out the most gorgeous lines and I need her in a poetry-off with wyll

maybe it can be a wyllstarion/shadowzel double date. wyll realizes how fucking choice some of lae’s lines are and—in good fun—tells her they need to have a contest, NOT REALIZING that there’s an ancient form of poetry competition in githyanki culture (since they insist they are also better at the arts than everyone else, PLUS the killing). he has accidentally thrown down an ancient gauntlet. now, for his honor, he has to embarrass astarion very much

the rest of camp serve as judges and they do a…poor job of giving this sweet-talking contest beautiful ancient cultural ritual the solemnity it deserves. they’re heckling constantly. gale is critiquing meter. karlach is wolf whistling at every line. shadowheart and astarion do not want to be here

astarion at first puts on a show of enjoying wyll flattering him loudly for an hour in front of literally all of his friends but he. can’t. the lines are all Peak Wyll, he has been compared to twenty-five celestial bodies, its too much even for him. shadowheart is standing in a corner with her hands over her face. they have never been so in synch

for a tiebreaker karlach says now they have to switch and say sweet nothings to each other’s partner, which is. actually not a problem for wyll and his gonzo charisma score (astarion is SO excited to hear him rizz up shadowheart) but it absolutely IS a problem for lae’zel, who is actually fundamentally just speaking from her feral passionate heart whenever she says sweet things to shadowheart and can’t do it on purpose. this is not a game to her, dammit, the point was to demonstrate that her bond with shadowheart is indomitable!!!

lae’zel is like. awkwardly trying to romantically compliment astarion on. anything at all. she says his teeth are “pointy as a row of dependable nails” then suddenly remembers she hates poetry and storms off in an embarrassed rage. wyll realizes the gallant thing to do would be to throw the competition. he does not do this. astarion immediately gets over his embarrassment to gloat about “them” winning

shadowheart meanwhile is just like “oh thank gods” and grabs a cheese wheel and a bottle of wine to have a quiet picnic with lae’zel somewhere like the gods intended. she WILL tease her for losing but only after lae’zel has said fifteen new extremely fucking romantic things to her in private and she’s done losing her mind about it

#bg3 #wyllstarion #shadowzel #shadowheart and astarion both secretly pretty pleased but also like. it is SO embarrassing

235 notes · View notes

miley1442111 · 1 month ago

Text

reaction confession- r.cameron (part 5)

————————

summary: a confession makes things even more confusing…

a/n: this takes place in a au where the stuff that happens in the show doesn't happen :) (also sorry this took so long to update, loads of stuff has been happening in my personal life that has put my hobbies in the back burner :)

tropes: childhood bestfriends to lovers, enemies to lovers

pairing: rafe cameron x fem! reader, jj maybank x reader (dw, not for long)

(use of Y/n, and the nickname Bunny/ bun (but i promise not in a weird way there's a story to it i swear it's not just one of those weird smut things))

warnings: mentions of drugs and drug use and drinking, fighting, cursing, Richard is a dick, rafe's mental health, reader is going through it, reader is going through it, talks of sex and feeling regret after it, mentions of dead parents and sibling, rafe being jealous, rafe is also going through it, rafe treats reader like crap, talk of nudes, mentions of sex, kissing,(and I think that's it?)

not entirely proofread

————————

Rafe was not a nice drunk. He was not a nice person, full stop. At least, that’s what he thought.

It was early to be getting drunk, but he didn’t care. Barry didn’t have any coke, and the Country Club didn’t care how drunk he got, he was a Cameron for fuck’s sake.

“Another,” he slurred at Jj. “Thanks.”

Jj placed yet another beer in front of Rafe. God, Jj was almost pitying him. Rafe used to be the ‘cool guy’. Everyone wanted to be friends with him, correction, everyone wanted to be friends with him and you.

Why weren’t you responding? Jj had texted you 4 hours ago. He checked his phone again.

“Why do you keep checking your phone?” Rafe asked. No snark, no rude tone, just a genuine question. Jj might as well indulge him.

“Waiting for a message,” he shrugged.

“Who from?”

“Y/n,” Jj answered, drying a glass.

“Why are you texting Y/n?” Rafe questioned, confused.

“We’re hooking up? I think, but I'm not sure. We hooked up last night, but now she’s not responding.”

Rafe was sober. His blood boiled. His mind raced. “Oh.”

You and Jj. You and Jj fucked. Jj fucked you. You fucked Jj. It made Rafe sick. How the fuck did he let that happen? You were with him yesterday, and he made you run off and fuck Jj.

How did he keep messing everything up?

“Right,” he nodded, and walked off, back to his table with the rest of the boys.

“I was trying to text Bunny,” Richard, one of the newest Kook boys sighed. “Yeah, she just… she’s blanking me dude. It’s so shit,”

“Sounds like what she did to you, huh?” Kelce smirked, turning to Rafe.

“She didn’t ghost me,” Rafe answered, speaking lowly.

“What?” Kecle scoffed.

“I ghosted her.”

“You fucking liar,” Topper chuckled. “I fucking knew it.”

“Doesn’t mean she isn’t fucking ghosting Rich, dipshit,” Rafe shot back, his anger rising.

Then Richard’s phone dinged. He turned it over and a message from you sat on the screen.

Y/n: Please stop texting me about nudes, I’m not sending you shit.

Rafe saw red.

“You motherfucker,” Rafe shook his head, voice low and slow. He leaned over the bar and grabbed him by the collar. “If you ever, and I mean ever fucking see you near her again, I will genuinely kill you Richard. I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Relax man, it’s not a big deal-“

“Did you fucking hear me?”

“You can’t control her-“

“But I can control you,” that ended the conversation. At least, he thought it did. That was until Richard swung at him, and something in Rafe told him not to fight back.

————————

He looked like shit. Busted lip, blown up eye, and a split eyebrow. He knocked on your door, just needing you. He may have also gotten extremely drunk on his way to your house… just maybe.

You opened the door and gasped, immediately bringing a hand up to examine him. “Holy shit, Rafe.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go,” he mumbled as you took him in. You sat him on your kitchen counter and began the tedious process of cleaning him up.

“You shouldn’t be fighting Rafe,” you scoffed. “Fucking hell Rafe.”

“‘M sorry baby,” he muttered.

“This is ridiculous, what were you even fighting about?”

“You.”

You stopped cleaning his eyebrow, staring at him.“Richard.”

He nodded, his hands circling your waist. “He’s not going near you again.”

“Rafe…”

“I didn’t fight him back,” he explained. “I’m being better for you. I’m not scary, I promise. ‘Don’t want you to be afraid of me. I’d never hurt you Bun, you know that right? ‘Never fucking hurt you.”

You felt bad for him, more than anything. You placed a hand on his cheek. “I’m not afraid of you Rafe. You’re just… rough sometimes.”

“I’ll be gentle, I just need you Bun. I love you Bunny.”

“Don’t say that,” you sighed. “Don’t stay things you don’t mean,” you contrived cleaning up his face, but he grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing your palm.

“I mean it. ‘Fucking love you. You’re my everything Bun-“

“Rafe.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you chuckled. “Just let me clean you up, and we can talk in the morning.”

“Can I stay?”

“I’m hardly letting you walk home like this,” you shook your head.

You cleaned him up, gave him an old hoodie of your dads and brought him into your room. “Lie down Rafe, I’ll make you something to eat.”

“Don’t leave me-“

“I’ll be in the next room,” you sighed.

“Bunny!” He whined.

“4 minutes,” you promised. You left him in your bed and started beating up some random freezer food that you could find. Then, the reality of the situation hit you. Rafe was in your bed, bruised and banged up, he told you he loved you, he asked you out, and he told you he needed you.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” he said, low, sober now. He leant against the doorframe, watching you like prey.

“I’m not,” you sighed. “It was just… a lot earlier. Alright?”

“I’m not scary to you, right?” He questioned. “You’re not afraid of me, right?”

You could hear his footsteps getting closer, his presence engulfing you. You could smell the liquor off him, practically taste it. You could hear his breathing, low and steady. You could feel his footsteps on the wooden floor. He was so close he could touch you if he tried to.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you answered, turning around and looking him in the eyes. “You’re just rough sometimes.”

He nodded, his eyes filling with tears. He believed you, he truly did. But he didn’t deserve your kindness, he didn’t deserve you to be so fucking nice to him.

“Oh, Rafe,” you sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him closer. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not alright,” he cried, the dam breaking. “It’s not alright.”

He picked you up and put you on the counter, burying his face in your neck as you held him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, brushing through his buzz cut slowly.

“I abandoned you,” he whispered. “And I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head. “That was a long time ago-“

“No it wasn’t! You should be angry with me, you should hate me, I fucking hate me! I left you! When you fucking needed me, I left you. Even after I swore to protect you, even after I promised your parents that I’d be there for you. I left you. And I’m so fucking sorry Bun,” he pulled himself out of your arms and started pacing the kitchen.

“I don’t know what you want me to say-“

“Anything! Get fucking angry, hit me, I don’t know! Just hate me, so I can stay away from you!”

“I don’t fucking hate you Rafe-!”

“Hate me!”

“Alright fine, you want me to hate you?” You scoffed, getting pretty tired of this shit. “Why the fuck did you do it Rafe?”

He stood still.

“Why did you read my messages? Why didn’t you reply? Why didn’t you show up to the funeral? Why didn’t you tell everyone on this insane fucking island that you ghosted me, not the other way around?! Why didn’t you listen to my voicemails? Why didn’t you pick up the fucking phone when I needed you?! Why do you fucking hate me so much?!”

He was silent.

“Why did you make me question my worth, my personality, my life, and fucking everything else at the age of 15!? And do you want to know the kicker? I would’ve fucking married you, if you’d have stuck around for me. I was so fucking in love with you when I left, that I blamed myself for you not responding. I thought I got too boring, too annoying, too clingy. No. I was just a teenage girl who wanted her best friend, and wanted her crush to like her back. And I won’t fucking apologise for that Rafe.”

“You liked me back?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes!”

He again stood silent.

“Go to bed Rafe. I’ll bring in some food,” you sighed, knowing the productive part of the conversation was over (if you could even call it productive).

He followed your instructions, leaving you alone in the kitchen. You thought about it all. He had been in love with you too. Yet he left you.

————————

Rafe sat on your bed, eating the leftovers in silence. You sat at your desk.

“Come here,” he begged. You did. Of course you did.

He placed a gentle hand on your cheek, pulling you in.

And he kissed you.

————————

obx masterlist :) (all other parts here!)

navigation for my blog:). (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

taglist: (comment to be added :))

@hockeybabe87 @maybankslover @anightlikethisss @linaaaaa654 @ijustwanttoreadlols @ihe4rttwd @sunny1616 @wearemadeofstardustO@rafeecameronsbitch @drewswifeeee @lovegeorgia @houseofperfecttaste @ymnizuh @maibelitaaura @harryweeniee @idkwtdwml123

39 notes · View notes

inf3ct3dd · 1 year ago

Text

WUSYANAME.

‘you are my type, you’re a bright light, and im like a moth’

summary: the girls are at the pool again…..

warnings: blood n boobs 🤫 and a veeeery small mention of barfing

content: black!reader x bsf!ellie, a lil bit of tension….🙈 , r means reader

authors note: this is so fun to write 😇😇 sawry its not v plot focused im feeling kinda sillyyyy

next chapter. masterlist.

the sun was bathing on your face, spilling into your room from the window. the summer heat let you sleep without a blanket,sprawled out on your bed, laying on your stomach.

the bright light was interrupted by a certain someone crawling in your window, messily stumbling inside.

your cat let out a confused meow, and you stayed steady asleep.

ellie not so quietly walked over to your bed, knocking over an empty cup in the process.

“WAKE UPPPP!!!”

you groggily open your eyes, courtesy of ellie aggressively shaking your arms from on top of you, disturbing your very peaceful sleep.

“im up, jesus.” you rub the sleep out of your eyes, and ellie finally calms herself.

normally, if someone busted through your window and shook you awake you’d be mildly alarmed, but ellies made you extremely used to it. hell, you probably wouldn’t even notice if someone busted in to murder you.

— 　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

same room, worse decorations. and the same unceremonious entry, but this time , you were alerted by your curtains.

the noise startles you out of your sleep, grabbing your pillow and standing towards the danger.

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU??” your voice booms through your room, quickly turning towards your window, pillow in hand.

“holy shit, its me!!” ellie raises her hands in defense, eyes wide and chuckling.

when you’re confronted with the familiar face, your heart rate slows and you drop the pillow.

“dude, what the fuck! i almost killed you!!”

“with that?” ellie gestures to the pillow on the ground, a goofy smirk on her face.

“hey, i could’ve smothered you.”

“id like to see you try.” ellie drops onto your couch, relaxing into the cushions.

“why are you here anyways?” you sit next to her, a confused look on your face.

“you want me to leave?”

“…no.” you admit, leaning back.

“i was bored, missed you.” she casually remarks, resting her head on your shoulder.

“why couldn’t you come through the front door?”

“oh, are we not at ‘breaking in through eachothers window” base yet?” ellie laughs, and you can feel it on your shoulder.

“i mean, i guess we are now” and you lean onto her head, her tea tree shampoo flooding your nose.

“what a significant milestone we’ve reached.” your sarcasm is very apparent, but it was genuine all the same.

“truly.”

— 　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“thought you were in a coma or something, shit.”

you look over to your alarm clock,“11:30am” glowing in red letters.

“its still earlyyyy, i could’ve still been sleeping.” you whine, turning over on your side.

“its almost 12, r.”

“you sleep until like 4pm ellie, who are you to make me wake up right now?” you face her again, a questioning look on your face.

“your best friend , who you love more than anything.”

you roll your eyes at her,knowing she’s right, tucking your arm under your head.

“just lemme sleep in a liiiiittle longer, please?” you plead with her, dragging out your words.

“cmon,its pool day!”

right, pool day.

today, june 4th , is the anniversary of the first time you met ellie. according to the both of you, its “the fourth of july but wildly more awesome and significant.” every year, no matter what, the two of you go back and swim together. ellie reminds you each time, usually by crawling in your window, tackling you, and shaking you awake. you’d spend almost all day in the pool, baking in the sun and goofing off in the water. it’s the best day of the summer.

“pool day can wait, im sleepy.” you drag ellie onto the bed, trapping her in your arms and resting your head atop of hers.

“ugh, fine.” ellie kicks her shoes off, leaning into your hold. your nose is filled with the scent of tea tree shampoo, and it lulls you right back to sleep.

“AWWWW YOU LOOK MALNOURISHED”

you sang along to the lyrics blaring out of your speaker, nodding your head to the beat as you drove.

the sunlight peeked through the trees, landing in small spots throughout the car, and on the brunette next to you. you felt the cool breeze from the windows and the sunroof, courtesy of your broken air conditioner. the shades of dark brown and green started fading behind you, dull colored houses with perfectly trimmed lawns appearing next to you. your bracelets jingle as you turn the steering wheel, the light reflecting off of them around the car.

“yo, do you want teriyaki?” ellie looked over at you, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“every time you do that hair-tuck thing, you look like debby ryan trying to seduce me.” you responded, stopping at the red light.

“is it working?”

“oh, absolutely.” your words were coated in a paper-thin layer of sarcasm, turning the steering wheel with a small giggle.

“is that a no to teriyaki?” she questioned, pouting slightly.

“why eat before we go swimming, stupid.”

“did you know that the whole ‘eating less than 30 minutes before you swim will make you throw up’ thing isn’t true?” the question was a typical ‘ellie being a smartass’ rhetorical one, obvious by the proud smirk on her face.

“did you know that-“ you mocked her, waving a finger in the air and speaking in your high pitched nasally “nerd” voice.

she gave no response, simply rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest.

“it seemed pretty true that time you barfed in the pool after we got taco bell.” you replied, finally pulling into your nana’s old-people-neighborhood.

“okay but like, that doesn’t count tho. thats TACO BELL.” she defended.

“maybe you should’ve eased up on the backflips that day too…”

“how dare you assume id ever ease up on the backflips.” she puts a hand on her chest, a fake offense in her tone.

you drive past the rows of houses, green lawns with potted plants and sprinklers making rainbows.you and ellie both sing along to the song still, you tapping your fingers on the steering wheel to the beat, and ellie moving her head back and forth. you finally pull into a spot, turning your keys with a jingle.

“how is the pool like….completely empty?” ellie questioned, eyes scanning the area. june is like, prime pool time, and given that the two of you slept in until 4, there was bound to be at least a small crowd.yet, not a single person was there, just some floaties and goggles that got left behind, both the doors to the locker rooms closed.

“shit, are they closed?” you squinted to try and read the fold-up sign on the lawn, but you could only see a blurry mess. wrong day to forget my glasses.

when ellie notices you desperately trying to make out the words on the sign, she steps out of the car and walks over to it. and the disappointed frown on her face already gives you your answer.

“man, what the fuck?” she dramatically slumps back onto her seat, crossing her arms over her chest.

you unknowingly mirror her action, a simliar frown appearing on your face.

“its june 4th, don’t they know its like, a national holdiay???” ellie questions.

“exactly, do they not know the cultural significance of today???”

you both sat there for a while, wallowing in your sadness. you can’t break an eleven year old tradition! why would the pool even be closed today? in your 18 years of living, it wasn’t closed once on june 4th. you took it as a sign that the owners were extremely in tune with your calendar, but it’s simply just not a day a pool would be closed on. you run through multiple depressing scenarios, until the both of you turned to each other. it was like a light bulb went off in both of your heads at the same time, a simultaneous silent ‘ding!’ echoing through the car.

“so….if the pool is closed, doesn’t that mean no one is here to like…enforce that?” a smirk appears on her face, very obviously suggesting what she’s about to say.

you scan the pool again, a complete absence of people confirming your suspicions. the complete absence of cameras simply solidifies the plan.

“we just gonna jump it?” you ask, a smile replacing the frown that was there before.

“i mean… i don’t see why not.”

“what if some old lady walks past and sees us?”

“easy. we convince her that she’s hallucinating, her new hip medicine has her going crazy.”

“el, your only backup plan is lying to the elderly?” you quirk an eyebrow at her, disappointedly.

“well what else could we do?” she asks, rolling her eyes.

“do we just say fuck it?” you both accidentally talk in sync, which makes you both burst into laughter.

“great minds think alike.” ellie taps on her head.

you both step out of the car, grabbing your things from the backseat and locking it. ellie swings her towel around her neck, and you swing your pool bag over your shoulder. you start walking normally to the gate, but ellie decides to be dramatic. stepping to the side, with her finger-gun held close to her face.

“really?” you question, laughing at her.

“shhh! stealth mode, r. you’re gonna get us caught.”

you decide to be just as dramatic, side-stepping and walking dramatically slow over to the gate.

“ladies first.” ellie chimes, gesturing her hand to the gate. you boost yourself over it, with no struggle, and you wait for ellie on the other side. she quickly hops over, but unceremoniously falls on her knees.

“shit!” she curses, holding onto her leg.

“dude, are you okay?” you bend down to her level, inspecting her knee. theres a nasty scrape on it, little drops of blood falling down her skin.

“ew, now you’re gonna get your gross knee-blood in the pool.”

“i guess you are too.” ellie grabs your hand and rubs it on the cut, red smearing on your fingers. she winces when you touch it, but still starts giggling.

“DUDE!! thats like- a biohazard. now im gonna get aids or something.” you rub the knee-blood on the ground, tiny pieces of concrete clinging to your hands. ellies laughter continues , almost obnoxiously.

“man whatever, this fucking hurts.” ellie stands up, dusting off her hands on her shorts.

“awww, you need me to kiss it better?” you ask, giving her dramatic doe-eyes.

“how sweet of you.”

“too bad. that thing looks NARSTY.” you roll your eyes, setting your things down on a chair.

“narsty?” she raises her brow, setting her things down right next to yours.

“you heard me.” you pull your tshirt over your head, leaving you in your black swim-top. you start pulling off your shorts, stepping out of your flip flops and pulling them off.

ellies eyes don’t leave you the entire time. she watches how your two braids fall back on your shoulders, how the sun shines on them, and how good your tits look in that bathing suit when you bend over.

“you just gonna stand there? i wanna swim.” you question, tilting your head at her.

“sorry … got distracted.”

“…can i get a squeeze?” ellie bluntly blurts out, eyes never leaving your tits.

“you’re so gross.” you scoff, rolling your eyes at her antics. it wasn’t like this was something bizarre to you, especially coming out of ellies mouth. i mean, its not like she hasn’t given them a little honk before.

“nah, its for…science. just checking for breast cancer.” she holds back a laugh, putting on a very convincing ‘serious face.’

“you’re not a scientist, and that excuse only worked the first time.”

“wow, i guess this is what i get for being concerned about my friends boob-health.” ellie crosses her arms in fake offense.

“im very in tune with my boob health, thanks. can we go swim now?”

she nods, quickly moving to slide off her button up- dad shirt, leaving her in an old sports bra and her swim trunks. hating normal swimsuits, ellie always settled for this. you pull your goggles over your head, pushing them down to suction them to your face.

“you wanna jump?” you make your way over to the deep end, standing at the edge.

“hell yeah i do.” ellie practically runs over to you, sliding on her own goggles as she does.

you both grab eachothers hand, walking backwards just enough to run and cannon-ball into the pool. the water bubbles around you, splashing everywhere. you see ellie under the blue, and you watch her flip her bangs out of her face as she rises to the surface.

“r, watch this-“ without giving you a chance to respond, ellie dives under again. she twirls in the water, first backwards, then into a handstand, then doing a front flip to finish it off. she floats up again, wiping her hair off her goggles.

ellies obsession with what she calls “underwater gymnastics” was the only excuse she had for those goofy snorkel goggles on her face. “they keep the water out of my nose!” according to her, and you never complain. especially since you have a pair matching hers.

you give her a dramatic shocked face, before challenging her.

“i could do that way better. you were practically just under there flailing around.”

“oh yeah?” ellie cocks her head to the side, raising a brow at you.

you dive under, better than ellie, and do the combo ten times better. in your opinion. you even finish off on your feet, with your arms raised in the air.

“told you.” a proud grin is plastered on your face, while ellie rolls her eyes at you.

“you just went all fancy with it. i did it way faster.”

“technique is better than speed, williams.” you retort, crossing your arms in front of you.

“thats what your mom said last night.”

you respond by splashing her in the face, letting the water hit her right in the eyes.

“wow, couldn’t even let me put my fuckin goggles on?” she scoffs in disbelief, still wiping her eyes.

you decide to take the opportunity and splash her again, pushing another wave straight to her.

“you really wanna start this?” she wipes the water off her face again , moving her hands underwater.

she sweeps the water with her arm, sending a wave of water back into your face. you shut your eyes instinctively, wiping them when the water subsides.

ellie quickly pulls her goggles on, ducking under the water and swimming over to you.

“els, what’re you doin-“ before you can finish your sentence, you feel ellies arms wrap around your waist, and she yanks you over her shoulder.

“ELLIE WAIT- PLEASEEE DONT- HELP-“ you start panicking, slapping ellie on the back and kicking your legs around.

ellie launches you into the water, laughing the entire time she does. she watches you angrily float up, and start punching her in the arm.

“you’re such a fuckin dick!!” you continue your lethal assault, bumping your fist into her bicep.

“the biggest. you punch like a baby.” she jokes, chuckling at herself.

“you want me to actually try?”

“dare you.”

you wind up extra, and launch a strong punch at her stomach. she dramatically falls back into the water, body going limp.

you almost start yelling at her, until you hear the raggedy wheels of a walker on the sidewalk. shit.

without a word, you drag ellie up to the surface, leading her to a corner.

“whats goin on-“ her voice is interrupted by you placing a hand on her mouth, standing in front of you as you ducked in the corner. she gives you a puzzled stare, seizing her question for the moment. her face heats under your hand, and she prays that you don’t feel it.

“heard someone.” you whisper, quieter than a mouse.

ellie nods in understanding, moving her hands around your hips. you knew it was just to keep you close, but you can’t ignore the twinge in your stomach when she does it, avoiding eye contact and trying to peak over the pool edge.

it’s not like it wasn’t normal, cuz it was. ellie had always been handsy with you. holding onto you in the hallways, hugging you around your waist, holding onto it when you slept together. you shrugged it off as her love language just being physical touch. she likes being close. but every time ellie grabbed you like that, it felt like she was electrocuting you or something. sparks fly, for unknown reasons. suprisingly, she never points out or pokes fun at you when she sees your breath hitching, or the way you awkwardly look away. if you told her to, of course she’d stop, but who’s it hurtin anyways?

you don’t see anyone on the sidewalk, but you decide to wait a while for safety. and to calm the nerves that weigh on your chest. you look back down, and ellies still holding onto you. her body heat radiates onto onto you, somehow heating you up even more than before. your faces are almost dangerously close, like if-a-swift-wind-blew-your-lips-would-knock-together close. you stare into her pine green globes unwillingly, as theres not much else to look at in front of you ,except for her lips. the eye contact feels…oddly tense. you watch a drop of water fall down from ellies hair, through the slit in her eyebrow, down the side of her face, and onto her lip. you crack a smile at her, and you both start laughing.

“shh, you can’t, we’re.. gonna get caught.” you try to quiet her, sentence interrupted by giggles. the tension wears off in mere seconds, the two of you calming down again.

“is it bad i kinda hope we get caught?” ellie jests, but her tone feels so much more…seductive? no, thats crazy. you laugh her off, giving her a small “you’re weird” before looking up again, and notice a clear coast.

“we’re good.” you confirm, sinking back into the water.

“you happy now?”

you stare at ellie, practically inhaling her chicken teriyaki plate in your passenger seat. after like, 5 more hours of swimming, the two of you finally decided to leave. ellie had a nasty sunburn on her shoulders, courtesy of her refusing to re-apply her sunscreen, and you left with a nice tan. as always.you were both starving, and ellie persuaded you into getting teriyaki. ‘please, r, it’s been on my mind all day.’

“oh, im more than happy.” ellie spoke with her mouth full, still scarfing down the chicken and rice.

“in the like, eleven years i’ve known you, i’ve never not seen you tear apart your teriyaki. especially after we go swimming, you turn into a fuckin animal.” you giggle, taking a bite of your own food.

“holy shit, eleven years?” ellie stops eating , shockingly, and looks up at you.

“if i haven’t mysteriously forgotten how to count, yeah.”

“weird, i feel like its been way longer than that.”

the sunset outside the car windows is pouring into the car, casting a pink hue over ellie. everything about her looks so much…warmer. her freckles look darker, her hair looks even more red, and her eyes look an impossibly prettier shade of green. you can’t help but grin when you look at her, making you feel even more relieved than your food.

11 years. more than a decade. 22 birthdays, shared between the two of you, a elementary and middle school graduation with her right by your side, matching caps and gowns flipping off the cameras. the both of you couldn’t think of a better person to have shared the years with, and you don’t think you will anytime soon. or ever.

“yeah?” you question, staring back at her.

“mhm. feels like i’ve known you longer than i’ve been alive. like, i met you before i was born or something.”

the sudden deepness of the statement almost makes you cry, but a wide smile spreads across your face. ellie knew you inside and out, and she definitely knew how crazy sappy shit like that made you.

“yknow what, i bet we did.”

taglist: @astroph1les @rxreaqia @muthafuckingstargirl @mina-281 @sawaagyapong @brunettedolls-blog @horror-whoree @elliewilliamsmunch @ellies2fingers @valdez-ayla4499 @claymoreshaze @dollietes @heartrobynn @uraesthete @bellaramslover @amitycat @matchamilkislover @atomicami @certifedcrybunny @perfect-little-thing @elsmissingfingers @mostlyhornyandsad @nil-eena @aouiaa @doepretty @idkwhattoput888 @guavasbizarre @louleele @skylerwhitwyo @bl1ndsp0t @elliewilliamsgf69 @elleatethat @jvstellies @thereasonurgay @crystalsnothere @greencacty @every1oneluvsriley @endureher @michel-angelo @nickiminaj689 @bratydoll @sc0ttstre3ted @fr3sh-tragedies @bearieio @sluttyletty @dinoastronaut @sapphicsstars @ellieschair (sorry if i couldn’t add you, i ran out of mentions 😪)

#🍔infrunami #ellie williams x reader #loser!ellie #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x black!reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fic #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us

218 notes · View notes

stevieharringtonwifeguy · 2 years ago

Text

yknow we do a lot of like stevie realising she's transfem bc of a dare or like robin telling her about queer stuff and having a 'you can do that?' moment, but now im thinking of stevie who figures it out entirely on her own and doesn't know how to tell anyone. like she doesn't fully have the words and even with robin it's like. one thing to be gay but gender stuff is a whole other level and she has no idea where she stands on that

but like, stevie who used to play with his mothers makeup as a child, whose parents would laugh at his antics until he got too old to be so childish, time to act like a Real Boy. and every time he's supposed to act like One Of The Boys he thinks of how it felt when his mom would do his hair for him and comment on how alike they looked, and how much better that felt, and he knows that isn't normal, and he has to be normal

but after the upside down that really seems to matter less. nothings fucking normal anymore, why should steve be? so she starts branching out a little. breaks into her mothers closet again, tries on all the clothes she left behind when she went on her latest trip. slowly amasses a decent collection of makeup by going to several different stores over the course of months with the excuse of 'oh my mom/girlfriend sent me to pick up x'. she doesn't do the Whole Deal often, in case nancy comes over or later in case the kids suddenly ask her to drive them somewhere. doesn't do anything that can't be removed in like three seconds. and she's definitely never telling anyone about this. she doesn't know anyone who would understand.

after starcourt, she wonders about telling robin sometimes. like sure, stevie doesn't like men but she's still like. some kind of queer. robins the only other queer person she knows (and yeah, robin turning her down bc she was only into girls did sort of hurt, but it wasn't robins fault bc she didn't know, and also it turned out stevie just didn't understand what actual friendship felt like so it was for the best anyway), so if she can't tell robin who can she tell?

but something always stops her. robins technically never done anything that makes stevie think she'd be mean about it, but there's something like imposter syndrome keeping her mouth closed. like she's not the right kind of queer. like robins being queer the good and honest way and stevies just being some kind of freak. and yeah, she knows it's dumb to think like that and robin would call her a dingus if she said it out loud, but it sits pretty heavy in her heart

so it's not until after vecna, when stevies on the eddie shift in the hospital and eddie says, while high on possibly every drug in the world, 'man i spent all that time trying to grow my tits and bats ate an entire boob in under five minutes' and stevie goes ??? what???? and eddie, still too high to self-censor, makes some comment like yeah they weren't huge but that black market estrogen i got was finally working its magic, definitely had like an a-cup. rest in peace. and stevies like why were you growing boobs?? 'bc girls are supposed to have boobs, man, keep up'

and eddie passes out again like five seconds later, but stevie just sits there watching her snore with her heart about to beat out of her chest because. holy shit. she's not the only one. eddie might understand, might be able to help her, if she was able to grow her own boobs. stevie would love to grow her own boobs. she'd stuffed some socks down a bra once and they looked lumpy as hell but even just the suggestion of a bust had almost brought her to tears.

and suddenly, looking at the sleeping form of the first person stevie has ever met that she's ever had this so intrinsic thing in common with, everything doesn't seem so scary

#steddie #transfem steve harrington #transfem eddie munson #platonic stobin #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #t4t steddie

537 notes · View notes

quitealotofsodapop · 6 months ago

Note

TMKATI though

IN Noodles or Death, I imagine Wu was the one to discover Pigsy's disappearance. And once they get Tang and Pigsy back, learn how they got into Spider Queen's web to begin with, and made sure eavesdropping little ears are safely away... he definitely let's his adopted parents have it. That ENTIRE scenario was far too much like the most obvious traps the Pilgrims used to fall for, the only saving grave being that at least it wasn't Tang who was fooled but really he had expected better of Pigsy!

Oh Wukong/Wu would be pissed to be getting his adoptive dads out of the Spider Queen's grasp.

He realises that something is mega-off when neither Pigsy nor Tang are at the restaurant when he goes to open for the day. MK is worried too and mentions the market... Wu tells his son not to worry and decides to go ahead to look for them.

Wukong texts Macaque that he needs his ears for a moment.

Pigsy and Tang argue inside the Spider Queen's lair - mostly Tang being a jealous husband and Pigsy apologizing for getting lured in by the spider demon's charm.

Suddenly, a very upset monkey demon busts through the floor! Another monkey with six lotus-shaped ears waves from the street-level hatch.

Spider Queen is confused af, who's these monkeys? Holy shit she recognises that chubby monkey man!

Spider Queen: "Man, what happened to you?" Wukong, wearing his restaurant clothes and crocs: "Had kids." Spider Queen: "Ah. Understandable."

The Spider Queen still manages to grab a few hairs off of Wukong from where he brushed up against some webs, so she still has her plans in motion.

Wukong and Macaque get back to the restaurant, tells MK there was "just a hold up at the market" (mostly so he wouldn't freak out over spiders), and promptly starts chewing Tang and Pigsy out.

Wukong: "Now thats out of the way; What. Is. The. Matter. With. You!?" Tang: "I know! I told him something was off!" Wukong: "You're not getting out of this Tang! You know how many times I had to save Master's ass from demons!? If you were really suspicious - you would have hung back and called the cops when Pigsy went in! And seriously boss!? A flirty spider demon?! That's literally a trope in horror novels now! I can't believe you fell for it!" Macaque, laughing to himself: "I can."

Wukong proceeded to yell at his adoptive dads for the next hour until it was time for the lunch rush.

#tmkati au #the monkey king and the infant #the monkey king and the infant au #sun wukong #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #lmk pigsy #lmk tang #lmk spider queen #lmk aus #lmk #lego monkie kid

60 notes · View notes

rustfoxes · 29 days ago

Text

Disjointed DAtVG feelings/opinions

I've played the game for a bit, I'm not too far in yet, and honestly? I hope it gets better. Spoilers & venting below as you might guess.

Everything seems to be tell, don't show. There's very, VERY little trust in the player. Characters happen upon a ruined village? "The village is ruined! There's no one here!" Yes, we can see that. Character looks upset? Text pops up on screen to tell you that IN FACT!! Character is upset. Couldn't have guessed.

Everything is explained out loud immediately, except the arguably actually important things. If I remember correctly, there's no mention of the 10 year (?) timeskip from DAI, everyone just now knows everything about elven magic and the Fade and the Veil EXCEPT FOR THE PLAYER. None of that is explained! New players are expected to just know, which in some games works, but when you throw characters into a magical forest and say it's Arlathan forest, how tf are they supposed to know what Arlathan is.

Why is Varric a brunette all of a sudden

Characterisation of returning characters is fucking wild. Fun, jokey Harding? Massive chip on her shoulder and real aggressive for some reason. Soft-spoken and measured Solas? Yelling, again, for some damn reason. Where is his iambic pentameter? And he hates blood magic all of a sudden?? Did the writers play the earlier games at all? Solas SPECIFICALLY says in DAI that blood magic has no morality to it and is merely a tool.

The game is linear to the extent that I cannot for the life of me see the point of the game asking you to wrap up unfinished business before moving forward. What unfinished business? You've locked us into a small room with 0 exits and 1 chest. There is no business.

So far there's been zero time for any of the story to breathe. There are no story beats, because the drum machine that is the pacing just keeps hammering on. The gravity of the situation has no time to set in for anyone. THE ACTUAL GODS OF MYTH HAVE BEEN BUST OUT OF GOD-JAIL. THIS IS A HUGE FUCKING PROBLEM. "Yeah, well, people would've died if Solas hadn't been stopped from tearing down the Veil." And this is preferable???? What the actual fuck. DAI Solas wanted to rebuild and to safe-guard his people. TWO of the people he wanted to PROTECT EVERYONE FROM are now out. But oh man, that Solas, he would've hurt folks. You think the wondertwins won't? Jesus fucking Christ.

The gameplay more or less just completely scraps character classes. Playing a mage rn and for some damn reason she has separate ranged attacks. What the actual fuck. What is the point of making people choose a class if a damn mage has to stand next to enemies to attack?

So far doesn't feel like an RPG at all. Starts in media res which is fine, but your character is already established as a cool hero and an important figure. Why? Why weren't we along for that ride?

Character movement is janky af, DAI was much smoother 10 damn years ago. Hopefully they'll somehow manage to fix it.

Either they needed better actors or a much better voice director, because holy shit is the dialogue awkward and halting and just... no.

Writers have clearly had shoes far too large to fill. Dialogue wants to be funny and witty and clever. It is not. Specially not with the phoned in voice acting.

Where have my Welsh/Irish elves gone? Wtf happened there? Also why wasn't there anyone around to tell the actors how to pronounce the elvhen words??

Why the fuck is the rogue our healer.

All quests so far have been walking from A to B, collecting some coins along the path, and then fighting 5 or 10 enemies. No variation at all.

Idk man, I really hope the game will find its legs as it goes on, but so far? Massively underwhelming and honestly quite disappointing. Absolutely does not feel like DA. People critisised DA2 for being rushed and DAI for a whole host of shit, but at least I felt like I was playing a Dragon Age game.

#dragon age #veilguard spoilers #venting a bit #don't mind me

42 notes · View notes

dutiful-wildcraft · 6 months ago

Text

Lies and Alibis

Part 2, Previous, Next

Nikolai/Plus Size F!OC

This one's a bit longer! Nothing to scary, but their is some violence. Again this is a bit silly and very self indulgent, please enjoy!!!

banner by @/une-femme-de-lettres

Life or death situations really do sober you up, which is really handy considering very big men with very big guns were now looking for her. She tries not to tremble too badly as she scans the bathroom for something, anything really to help her.

Best case scenario, she escapes with all her limbs intact. Preferably.

Worst case scenario, they bust in and simply kill her then, a quick bullet to the dome. There were certainly more worse scenarios…but there was no time to line all those details out. She shudders.

Think think think.

Locking the door would only make her presence inside more obvious.

Find a weapon? She's seen broads in movies use the ceramic back of the toilet as pretty solid weapon before, she knows if she clocks someone just right it would at least knock them out.

She peers into the stall, and of course there isn't one. Stupid automatic flusher.

She turns again, eyes the small windows lining the far wall and nearly curses. She couldn't even fit her tits through the opening let alone the rest of her. Who the fuck even makes a window like that?

She can hear more yelling outside, and her heart pounds. She wasn't going to make it out. Not without someone seeing her.

She’s desperate, mind racing as a very hairbrained thought occurs to her.

If she was going to die cartoonishly, her fat ass wasn't going to be shot to swiss cheese hanging out of window she most certainly was going to get stuck in. Instead she works the glass pane open, pushing it as far as it could go before peeling off her heels and tossing them haphazardly onto the floor below the opening.

With the clock ticking she scampers on bare feet into the handicap stall, leaving the door open a crack and climbing onto the toilet in the far corner. She was thankful that nicer bathrooms didn't have a crack a mile wide between the frames. She hunkers a bit, feet on the bowl with her ass resting against the wall to brace her.

This was stupid, really. Beyond stupid, suicidal even. But her mama did not raise a quitter.

The door opens and her heart catches in her throat. She holds her breath as a pair of footsteps echo against the pearly tile. One set coming closer as the other kicks open the other closed stalls ahead of her. Oh god. She was going to die like this. On a toilet, Elvis style. She almost starts to cry, clutching her hands over her mouth to stifle her trembling breaths.

I escaped, I escaped.

A voice rings out in the quiet, disbelieved barking.

“Blyat, Sbezhal!!”

What.

More cursing. A frantic phone call, and hurried steps out of the bathroom follow.

She waits. That…that seriously worked.

Holy shit. That worked.

She climbs down on shakey legs and puts an ear to the door, listening carefully for any more noise. The commotion must have cleared the place, and she cracks the door into the dead quiet. She'd planned to bolt, hit the door and run for her fucking life, but she thinks of her knight in glittering gold jewelry.

She doesn't know why now out of all times she feels guilty for a random russian mobster. He couldn't have been too much better than these other men, and for all she knows if it was his business she was poking into he would have had her murked too.

He helped you.

For reasons unknown, or perhaps even nefarious, but she didn't know that, just like he didn't know having her on his arm would get him a gun stock to the face.

Her eyes flicker between the door to her escape and the long hallway they'd taken him, and she sighs, long and ill suffering.

This is beyond stupid, she grouses inwardly, crawling her way underneath another set of hallway length windows in an effort to not get her head blown off by the rifle toting jarhead she'd seen walking the perimeter.

She didn't have much besides “Grab Nikolai and Leave”. The details around even that fuzzy, not to mention the man may or may not be dead…or at minimum very angry with her. She pauses dead for a second, a little spinning wheeling flashing in her mind's eye as she slowly works that problem out.

…maybe he won't be so mad if she helps him. He could at least get them out of there and hunt her another day.

Too late to go back now.

From what they could tell they were searching the woods for her. What remnants of the dinner party left long gone in the aftermath, with just a few men and her knight left.

She continues following the trail of blood and black skid marks from well polished shoes down fancy tiled corridors. Pausing around the corner as the sound of wet thuds and pained grunts hit her ears, followed by more seething russian.

Words so snarled she can barely understand. Something about her, betrayal, stupidity. Their captive rasps. Feigning ignorance.

No, not feigning, telling the truth. As the familiar voice definitely belonged to Nikolai, a light edge to it despite his predicament. Her heart pangs with guilt. This was definitely her fault.

She's fully prepared to play the waiting game, find a place to hide until at least one of the guards leaves the room. That is until she hears the light tap of a shoe on tile far too late, turning just in time to catch the pistol careening with her face.

Fucking, ow.

Her head bounces off the marble and she sees stars, body laying limply on the floor as she attempts to reboot.

He'd definitely busted her head open, hopefully she wouldn't need stitches, but probably considering she could already feel the blood slipping into her hairline.

And as she takes stock of herself, she realizes that he definitely thinks he's knocked her out, judging by the way he bitches, grumbling about her weight before unceremoniously grabbing her ankle and dragging her along.

She bites her tongue, forces herself to fall limp despite the radiating pain in her skull. Cracking like lightning as her head thunks between the grout.

Eventually she's stopped, her thick leg flung hatefully to the floor as a door slams behind her. She keeps still. Listening. There was another, ragged labored breaths. She dares to crack her eye just a smidgen, taking in the blurry visage that was Nikolai, his limp black locks hiding his face from her view.

Okay. Target located. She hadn't necessarily planned playing possum to get there but hey, a win is a win.

Win number two, a knocked out fat girl was apparently not threatening enough to justify security. Her arms and legs left splayed lifelessly beside her and undisturbed.

The door clicks again. Followed by heavy footsteps.

New problem.

She cracks her eye again, watching the guard stalk back and forth through the blurred slit of her eyelids. His back, thankfully toward her.

He's yapping again, yanking Nikolai back by the hair to sneer. Monologuing as power hungry idiots are wont to do.

Her eyes scan the room fully now. She can make this work. He's bigger than her but she's got enough ass to swing hard if she needs to. Enough pressure in the right place can knock anyone out. Jaw, temple, base of skull, she lists.

Her eyes search, lamp, chair, paperweight, all doable but loud….her eyes fall just above her. Pretty velvet curtains tied back neatly with thick, golden tasseled chord. Bingo.

Keeping her eyes glued to her chatty assailant she reaches upward, fingers barely grasping at the silky strands before tugging it down the length of the curtain, catching it swiftly before it could thunk against the floor.

She'd needed to be quick for her next trick. She eases herself up. Wrapping the chord around both palms, steeling herself for what could very well be the worst decision she's ever made. Cut off blood supply, crush his windpipe. She pictures the anatomy in her head, and before she can bitch out she lunges, throwing the chord around his throat and yanking.

There's a choked gasp as she twists, turning her body 180 and pulling down sharply, attempting to use her own weight to assist in strangling the man. He thrashes against her back, nearly toppling them both over. She's too short, his legs still able to scrabble against the ground.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She twists again, maneuvering her arms to twist the makeshift garrote around his throat into more of a noose. They both stumble in the struggle, falling to the floor in a heap.

Absolutely fucking not.

She scrambles, keeping the chord pulled taut around the guards neck as she kicks her feett out, planting them both against the man's shoulders and yanking with all her might. Keeping her legs stiff and holding onto the chord for dear life, palms straining as she simultaneously pushes and pulls.

He really flails now, legs kicking and eyes bulging. Dull nails drawing blood against her calves and ankles where he fights to claw her off. She'd be impressed with his tenacity had she not been fearing for her own life. How fucking long did it take to strangle someone?

“Pull harder, zaychonok” a voice rasps over the gurgling and choking in the room. Nikolai.

And she does, grunting with the effort as she pushes with her knees, keeping the chord pulled tight against her chest, whole body beginning to tremble with the effort.

“pull, keep pulling, more, more”

The man at her feet tries to howl, frothing and flailing desperately before there is a sickening pop. His body falling limp and silent. She sags, panting harshly, letting her cheek rest against the cool tile of the floor. Her hands throbbed, burned and bloodied from the rope, but she was alive, blessedly alive.

Which could not be said for the guard.

She shoots up, flinging the chord viciously from her hands and stares at him. He's dead alright, head cranked at an unnatural angle, dead eyes bulging and painted red from broken vessels. His neck painted in varying shades of red and purple.

It makes her stomach churn.

She stares at the body, her memory carving his corpse into the inside of her skull. It’s not that she hadn't seen a dead body before, she's seen plenty. She's just…never been the direct result of a dead body. The words Do No Harm, echoes in her brain.

“Zaya”

She flinches, eyes bouncing to Nikolai who watches her carefully. “Fetch me his knife” he instructs, and his voice is soft, surprisingly gentle given the situation. She follows, moving on autopilot to flip the thug over and snag the knife from his belt.

She stumbles toward him. Clumsy like a newborn foal as she cuts the zip ties from his wrists with trembling fingers. Vehemently ignoring looking at the dead man on the floor.

Nikolai makes a little relieved sound, rubbing his aching wrists as she circles back around. He carefully tugs the knife from her hands, never taking his eyes off of her as he slides it against his belt.

“Good job” he murmurs, hooking a hand a bit to roughly against her shoulder. Shaking her from her thoughts again. The poor man looks rough, they both do. Thankfully it’s something she thinks a few stitches and a bath couldn't fix. But something else occurs to her.

“You speak english.” she deadpans, staring at him with exhausted eyes, and this mad bastard has the gall to let out a small wet laugh.

“Very observant” he chuckles, patting her shoulder moving across the room on stiff legs. He plucks a handgun from the desk drawer and checks the magazine. Satisfied , he slides it into his belt, bending again to pick up the guard’s fallen handgun making the same check. He eyes her with a raised brow.

“Can I trust you with this?”

She swallows hard, nods. It’s been a while, but she knows how to use it.

He approaches, quickly going over the safety, how to clear it, before pushing it into her hand. His warm palm slides over the metal, gripping her wrist securely. He folds his chin to his chest, looking into her eyes. Holding her attention.

“Stay close to me, keep your hand off the trigger, we will survive.”

“Da” she repeats, preening just a bit as he smiles at her.

#I'm having a grand time with this #their just silly your honor #until you kill a man #nikolai cod #chubby oc #nikolai x foc #nikolai/foc #nikolai x original character #call of duty #lies and alibis #wildcraft writes #nikolai x oc #nikolai x reader

57 notes · View notes

lovethatmakingcoffee · 9 months ago

Text

what am I? The devil's advocate?

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE GIFT OF APPOLLO STRIKES AGAIN FOR ME SPECIFICALLY CAUSE I CALLED OUT THIS CANCELLATION THE MOMENT FOREVER GOT CANCELLED!!!!! Its just so easy! So simple! Of course a male musician is gonna get cancelled and so few listened to me cause you are dumb children because obviously its children who make up the majority audience of a Minecraft roleplay server!!! Ha! At this point its comical! I'm busting a nut on how funny and predictable this all is. Haha, ah sadge. Oh noooos! Are you all gonna burn your merch and delete your art cause you're afraid that u are supporting an abuser creep. Ah waaaahhhh. Like i havent heard that tune the past two months, sing another one. Bitches.

Pft, you all are so pathetic and funny, at this point there really just must be this shadow group or whatever that is trying to destroy the qsmp from the inside out. Like really? Two months, three major creators of the qsmp are targeted by cancellations, and there is plenty of drama in between. So obviously suspicious and coincidental. And it happened so fast and so many people just dogpiled on the accused, i would have to say its almost organized. And that there is just so many jumping the gun, ready to tell these creators to kill themselves, you guys certainly have numbers, holy shit. Ha! I wonder if Forever actually finds and sues that first anti, that he'll be able to figure out who these people are because isnt this also just so conveniently timed? Each cancellation one after another. There is so much drama clouding the qsmp community that how could it not be schemed out at this point? I already predicted that with Forever's downfall and now with attempts I. Cellbit and Wilbur, Im starting to have an inclination that someone approached these girls.

With cellbit's ex it would be easy to deflame him, but i wonder how they got to this sherby whatever. Maybe cause he chose his career over her like i've heard in her video. But being exs is already hot opportunity for scorn of any kind, so its quite easy to jump on one or the other when one of these two accused the other. So really the motive could be anything at this point. anything she said or not said or those requests she asked of him and he never fulfilled. And to me she never delved too deeply in to what those requests were either. Which ok then. Fine, keep your secrets.

But biting is so fucking weird to accuse someone as abuse. Especially physical. Like just biting? That's all. Not that if its true that's not bad, but it would make sense that he was physically violent in any other way at least once. Like hitting, strangling, anything. But no, biting is the best she could come up with when it comes to physical. Mental and emotional abuse is a tricky in cause its not visible and it will always boil down to a he said she said type of shit but if there is no physical text or people witnessing their conversations then good luck with that.

But firstly, if she wants the whole world on her side then physical evidence should be so easy in this scenario. Like as easy as pie! If he bit her so badly every day where he tore skin, or whatever, then damn weren't they in a relationship??? Did they not take couple pictures? Wouldn't these pictures show the obviously horrible bitemarks? That is the first actual physical evidence that she could show that would be so easy to solidify her stance, but no, just hearsay. And nothing like texts either! Maybe a text to a friend complaining about how bad the bitemarks are. But no, nothing. No slideshow of evidence at all, just saying it happened, because words are all she needs to win the internet nowadays.

And then there are her complaints about him financially taking advantage of her, like girl, receipts! Show the receipts at least please, god damn it! Or again, these supposed texts to your girlfriends that he is taking financial advantage of you!!! Anything at all. The male accused is always expected to provide evidence that he did not abuse his ex but the girl isn't expected to show physical evidence that he did it, come on!!!

And I mean the biting in itself is so strange too. Cause like- how did it even start? She says he did it out of nowhere and my brain cant even wrap around that there was no pinpointing starting point. Said that it was a normal affection thing that his parents said was normal. If his family actually said that at all. And that he just randomly introduced it to her like ... Huh? Nothing she could accurately point to and say then, thats when it began. No sexy time or sex or whenever. Just he walked up to her in the kitchen one day and took a bite, huh? Like as far as im aware, to me (and a mutual of mine who pointed this out more accurately) their situation just sounds like a bdsm thing that went south. These two were not on the same wavelength, realized that and went their separate ways. Maybe he didn't follow the safe word every time, maybe she was also mutually into it like Wilbur said. Maybe they just changed their minds on things. Who knows! Not us, that's for sure. Not that their love life should be any of our business, but she yelled abuse so...

And the fact that she acts like biting is such a weird foreign kink. It's tame is what it is. More tame then the feet kinks in my opinion. But if what Wilbur says it's true and it was mutual, 😮‍💨 then fuck, man.

And why would HIM leaking past conversation be power over her? Wouldn't any mutual conversation or evidence they have over each other, negatively effect him in a bad light? Would it not be good if one of these parties showcased a lick of evidence to evidentally prove her right??? Or would it be like Cellbit and explain thoroughly how not everything she said is the truth?

Who knows. There is probably some truth to what she said like he reiterated. About being a slob and that biting happened. But the invasiveness of the bites and the violence of it might not have been accurate. But he needs to absolutely admit it or she needs literally any physical evidence at all to give weight to her claims. But there is nothing because of course there isn't. She could so easily expose him if what she says is true... So why didn't she in her video? If that is what she wants? But then if it is just to bring awareness then she did so in a selfish manner that is only accusatory and not grounded. Ground me Shelby. Show me the bad boyfriend he is. SHOW ME.

But she won't. Will she? :/

Anyway. The qsmp. 👏👏👏👏👏

Like in the past two months, creators have been cancelled or dropped from the qsmp one by one and damn, quackity must be super evil or one unlucky son of a bitch to have hired all these secretly maliscious people. My goodness gravy gracious, how impressive!

I mean come on, really. Like really. Have we not overheard this tune by now? Male creator gets cancelled cause of something to do with a woman, is rushed to answer and is (luckily for cellbit he had an essay on why he was innocent so people are fifty fifty on him at least) then dogpiled by the people waiting to rip his apology or response apart. And then it doesn't matter what they do, anything they do will be seen in a bad light and no one will take into consideration on their stance at all and turn on the male creator. Its crazy how the pattern keeps repeating itself and keeps being successful because everyone is afraid that they are supporting an abuser pedo whatever and have all this time.

It actually makes me sickly relieved that no matter how Forever managed his initial response, he was doomed from the start.

And i mean these younger streamers certainly think they're smart by immediately turning on Wilbur's obviously curated damage control lawyer made response, but ha! That will bite them in the ass soon too. When its their turn. Because its going to be their turn. These cancellers don't care at this point who you are, they just want to see you fall, which is what i predicted and shouted to the heavens months ago! That they should have stayed as a community instead of turning on each other.

Like they think they are so smart responding this quickly, cause the quicker your response to injustice, the more innocent you are 😇. Because if they dont respond immediately (literally hours after the fact), then they will be treated like creators such as Phil and Tommy; be treated like shit and accused for supporting an abuser by the hysterical masses. Because that's who you are if you are against whatever the ex's name is or dont speak up about it at all. And like dont speak up immediately too. You have to have a quick response or there will literally be a ripple effect of cancellations cause if you dont say anything then you are a bad person too. And all i hear from the social media smucks are Wahhhhhh.wahhhhhhhh you're bad if you support so and so! But i already made my side so im a good person wahhhhhhhh

And no, im not even enteraining shit like this anymore when she goes "uwu, i'm finally coming out on social media to spread awareness that my famous ex boyfriend (and it is ALWAYS at the height of their popularity, remember that) used to abuse and bruise me." Like sure- the benefit of doubt for the female victim blah blah but she's like- "oh but this is based on my experience and I'm just here to spread awareness. Anyway, I'm going to hang out with my friends now after dumping that clusterfuck on the internet. Bye~." Like everyone in their collective minds won't go after him and demand answers then judge his response and then turn on him anyways cause lemme be honest, when has an internet open apology ever worked? It never has. And now she has put the spotlight on him, his pr team is scrambling for an escape, he's probably messaging her behind the scenes going what the hell, and his family and friends who wont actively denounce him will be sent death threats. Just like Forever. Forever mi amor. Ah. I miss you bibi.

Anyway, girlie knew she was setting the hounds on him and acted like she didnt. Like she was just going to say her piece and dip. Like the internet wasn't going to explode. Like what the fuck? Whatever her intentions were, whether she was abused or not, she wanted this. She didnt want to get him before he got famous or even during dsmp. She wanted to do this now. For some reason it had to be now. I guess in her mind the bigger they are...

It's always the same.... goes on social media. Verbally accused with no physical evidence. Leaves. The man is left flounder in the mob of social media. Repeat.

And damn, this really makes me doubt Cellbit's ex now like- im starting to really not believe any of them anymore. Cause these cancellations are just all so convientely timed!!! Forever at the height of his lore, Cellbit's weird ex comes out of nowhere with a heavy hitter accusation, but thankfully my guy predicts this and was able to deflect that one with his PHYSICAL EVIDENCE, and now Wilbur's ex is breaking out the easy 'he abused me~' song. Like why are you all still falling for this? Why? Why? Why? Why?!

And hell, i might be a hundred percent wrong, but you might be too, so might aimsey and ranboo and tubbo. This chick might be a sweet angel that didnt mean to release an innocent criminal accusation on her famous ex, oh no~ but like, i dont even care if im wrong and am acting like a jackass.

They cancelled Forever and my man was not a pedo. I stand by that. I'll stand by it until there is a literal mugshot of him commiting said crime. Or literally any lick or shroud of physical evidence! Anything instead of the basic she said he said nonsense. The Forever texts were gross but i've already determined what I have understood from that girl Sol's response. And I've explained it on my tumblr hear before. Right here :)

-https://www.tumblr.com/lovethatmakingcoffee/739974345599926272/part-1

And these remaining qsmp idiots can be cancelled for all i care at this point. For staying quiet and letting their friend fall into a pit of vipers. I think its hilarious if they all got cancelled. Ive already seperated art from the artist with all of them after what they did to Forever. The only one I didnt do that to WAS Forever.

But they let that shit happen, they let my man get labeled as a pedo, so they reap what they sow.

And yeah i may be a hypocrite and still post qsmp stuff, but like whatever :P. I lost my mind months ago cause of circumstances and Forever was one of the few things keeping me afloat. And i mean like- phaw, these content streamers are funny, what can i say. Even though i dont agree with literally any of the shit they pulled in the last couple of months, they get a hearty chuckle out of me and their character is fun and their lore is (less) interesting. I mean- they are likeable. Thats why they are content creators. Cause they got great personalities. Doesnt mean they are good people though.

And heh, the qsmp really will die soon, i mean really. Just look. Pacfit is cute but it barely holds much in the shipping department, the lore might as well be dead cause many have left or were cancelled or have to deal with the aftermath of their friends being cancelled or leaving. And just it looks like not many people are on and that quackity tried to commercialize it with purgatory 2. Bringing all these new people and having storylines abandoned left and right. Then forever got canceled and quackity chose to throw his friend under the bus (doesnt even matter if forever secretly asked him to) and protect his project which was his first mistake. Now all these creators are getting picked off one by one because of their past relationships. Insteading of standing unified together.

And i will laugh at all of you stupid fucks who whined and cried that ohhh noooo, my favorite creator is a bad person with little evidence, and just the one side talking about it. And it doesnt matter if Wilbur said that was a consensual kink they shared and they met on www.bitemynipple.org, he will be framed as the bad guy, with whatever she said. My god. The fact that everyone takes this shit at face value and dont question anything, and quickly announce that they hate the guy to prove that they are a good person is insane.

Like holy shit, tubbo, ranboo, aimsey, and others. You jumped on him so quickly and literally ranked and ripped apart his apology like it was supposed to win some literary award, the fuck? Why are you so weird?! It's obviously a PR curated response and you are treating it like it is his actual words! The fuck?!

And then y'know, i think there are people who never really were fans and are just part of that well orchestrated alleged anti group that took down Forever and are using what wilbur's ex said to fan the flames. Loudly announcing, 'IM DELETING MY STUFF AND YOU SHOULD TOO UNLESS YOU ARE A BAD PERSON!!!" you want to talk about manipulation? That certainly looks like manipulation to me. Pathetic. Guilting people before the final verdict. My braincells are dead on the floor cause of youm And then the rest of you all roll over, bend your back and just take it. Well lube up your stupid little holes.

But honestly, i called this shit so hard. I more so guessed a fan would damn him later, but its an ex girlfriend who felt like it was a great idea to air out their personal lives to the voyeuristic eye that is the internet. Just peachy. Like this is your own personal shit, and again if there aint even a police report talking about their domestic abuse, i wont take this seriously. It a photo or a screenshot of a text about it. ANYTHING!!!!! The fact she just discreetly brought it up out of nowhere to bring 'awareness'. She knew what she was doing. And if her intentions were to tear him down cause she was angry at him or get her noticed because of his popularity or to use him to lift her agenda of this so called awareness then ok, i guess??????

And what's with this bullshit of not knowing that wilbur is manipulative? That is literally is one of his number one character traits. You can think of it negatively or positively, but unless you are new here, that dude is a manipulative hussy. Like this is a well known fact, how are any of you surprised at this? Its like saying the sky is blue. I mean- if by anything dsmp wilbur is the most manipulative lil bastard ever, obviously he is leaning into a character trait he already knows and has.

But go on, hm, cry. Write your little announcements that you always knew he was a bad person uwu and that you are deleting all your content of him. Go on and do it. Delete your art and fics that you worked so hard on just cause some drama is happening where there is no hard evidence so far except what she said and he said. Heh, I dont stan him. I aint saving this shit. If the art gets deleted, oh well! Too bad, so sad. Thats on all of you who wanted to panic, act out like toddlers and delete your art. Go on. Delete it. Feel sad. Boohoo. Waaaaaaaahhhh. Ask no questions and just side with the 'victim' who conveniently brings this up now.

Who knows. Maybe I'll act up too. Maybe i'll draw Wilbur getting eaten out and bitten and sensually gang banged. Maybe I'll draw art of tntduo chewing on each others' cocks. Bite bite bite. Maybe I'll just make a lot of wilbur biting art just to spite everyone. Who knows?!

Maybe i will also keep the wilbur soot tag alive, like i am doing with the forever, sugarduo, and the 4halo tag. Because you stupid ass bitches just squeal when these creators arent perfect when someone drops dirt on them. Well newsflash you dumb fucks, they all have dirt on them.

Also my next guess on who the cancel qsmp victim will be ... Fit. They havent got anything on Philza yet to my surprise. Maybe the man just surrounds himself with loyal people outside of minecraft server cause obvs those people aint loyal as shit 🤣. And i dont know much about fit outside of qsmp, like i feel a lot of us do. But he totally fits the qualifications. He's a man so he's an easy target. He's older so he has a 'past tm. And he is seen as otherwise good and another pillar of the qsmp. So if he is taken down, many shall follow. It would be another good shock to the community to destroy the server like these antis want. And yeah- i actually think this all stems around the qsmp. Aint no other Minecraft servers are having this level of drama right now, so why is it qsmp that are getting all these leaks and drama bombs at ... At the height of their popularity? I wonder. Or maybe i already know.

But all these pr disaster drama landmines, i even made a funny theory joke in my head that what if the ringleader to these alleged anti groups is actually a pr manager of one of these groups? And thats how they have been destroying everyone from the inside, collecting some OLD dirt, and being able to maybe connect or approach these exs. But that's just a funny theory i have. Like could you imagine???

Could you imagine?

And damn, i just wonder if there is a content creator policy that if one of them is being attacked than the rest have to dogpile on them no matter how they feel or what they think about the situation to save their own assets and finances? Do you think? You think that's in their contract? That would be absurd and hilarious. Imma piss myself from laughing. Look piss.

And no, i will not talk nicely about this. I never should have. You guys all deserve to be spat on and talked shit to. And i mean all. Im talking about everyone. All those that fall hook line and sinker. Dumbfucks

Will i respond to anything from this...? Mm maybe. Probably not. I don't really care what happens :P sucks to suck

(Also yeah this was barely edited, eat my ass)

(And I mean, damn if I'm wrong I'm wrong, but you fucks turn so quick when yeah- there is no physical evidence that she could easily provide)

(to reiterate for those who don't want to read the finer details. I totally think everything that has happened so far as been to rip apart the qsmp and think all these ex girlfriends as well are too conveniently timed. And whether or not they are telling the truth, there are and will always be antis lying in wait to shame and guilt everyone to damn the male accused while no physical evidence is brought forth and that they pressure people to delete their art and fics. Gross)

#Wilbur Soot #Drama #Discourse #Shubble #Shelby #Tubbo #Ranboo #Aimsey #Forever #Foreverplayerg #Qsmp #Quackity smp #Dsmp #Dream smp #Tommyinnit #Philza #Fitmc #Quackity

72 notes · View notes