#i won’t get stuck on them like a broken record | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

piningforstan · 2 months ago

Note

I just recently found your page and love your work!!

can you write an angsty Stan fic where reader and Stan are still dancing around their feelings and reader finally gets the courage to confess to Stan but maybe overhears a conversation with him and Ford out of context saying he won’t date them and r is crushed? Then cue r trying to move on and jealous!Stan and then they get together somehow?

Thank you!!💕

I ended up placing this fic when Stan and Ford are still in high school before their falling out. I apologize if the timeline with Carla isn’t canon, I just wanted to include her. Also, reader is mentioned as a female a few times but this can easily be read as gender neutral.

I hope you like it!

You loved alcohol as much as you loved getting bamboo shoots shoved under your nail beds. But Carla “Hotpants” McCorkle had just broken up with Stan, and it was your duty as his best friend to support him. And if that meant drinking cheap beer on the beach with his brother, then so be it.

“I thought she was the one,” Stan grumbled. He crunched his empty beer can, belched, then reached for another.

You rolled your eyes. “You say that about every girl. Even that one you saw in a dream.”

You knew because you kept a detailed record of Stan’s revolving door of women, each declaration of love another stake in your heart. Secretly, you were pleased that Carla ended things with Stan. You could never date him in fear of ruining your friendship, but that didn’t mean you liked to see him with other girls. Especially not stuck-up bitches like Carla.

“I just dunno what she sees in this new guy.”

“He doesn’t litter?” Ford answered. He nudged the growing pile of discarded cans with his foot. Stan’s brother never drank, but he certainly lamented about how much the two of you did.

Stan continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “So what he can play guitar. Anyone can do that.”

“Can you?”

“No.” Stan angrily kicked up sand. “But I would learn if I thought I had a chance of winning her back.”

“You don’t need her,” you told him. The beer in you warmed you from the inside out, initiating the familiar tingling sensation in your legs that happened when you drank. “You’re Stan motherfucking Pines.”

Stan grinned at you. “You’re right. I don’t need her.” After slurping down the rest of his beer, Stan grabbed the bottom of your chair and pulled you closer. He pressed a sloppy kiss to your temple.

It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to — Stan happened to be very affectionate, even worse when he was drunk — but it still sent your pulse skyrocketing.

“I got the only girl I need right here,” Stan said, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

Your insides turned molten. Of course, you loved when Stan called you “his girl” but the sting of the words were especially painful in the wake of his breakup. You would never actually be his girl in the way that it mattered.

You could never jeopardize your friendship with Stan, or Ford. You had been inseparable since you were children, when Stan received a particularly nasty note about you in class and instead of passing it on promptly ate it. You took a likening to him immediately. And, since Stan was never without his brother for very long, Ford became the reasonable cornerstone of your friendship.

It wasn’t until a few years ago that you realized you saw Stan as much more of a friend. To be specific, when he successfully grew out his mullet and you fawned over it instead of throwing up in your mouth. On anyone else you might’ve. But it weirdly fit Stan, who you’d watched go from a weird, skinned-knee little boy to a weird, broad-shouldered man with dark curls that you desperately wanted to run your hands through.

Ford shattered the moment. “Why don’t you guys just date then?”

You’d both been asked the question before. It was expected, when a boy and girl were friends. Parents, nosy teachers, old ladies peering at you from wiry glasses. Usually the two of you fielded the question with various degrees of hilarity — “he gave me an STD” or “that’s my sister!” — but tonight it felt profoundly different.

Perhaps it was because you were so close, physically. Or perhaps because you had confided in Ford the secret crush you harbored on his brother. You trusted him not to tell but to hear it now, spelled out in the air, made you stiffen.

“She knows all my disgusting habits,” Stan finally said to break the silence, “I couldn’t trick her into it.”

He grinned at you in your peripheral, a certain softness in the corners of his mouth that weren’t usually there. You rallied your best grin back,

“Yeah, it would be weird. Right?” You chuckled nervously.

Stan, with unprecedented exuberance, nodded in agreement. “S’weird. I’ve seen you in your retainer. Could never fool around with you after that.”

Ouch. You pretended it didn’t feel like a blow to the stomach. “And you smoke too much. It would be like kissing an exhaust pipe.”

“See? It could never work.” Stan tore another beer off the plastic rings, drained it, then announced he was going on a walk. You watched his retreating form until you were sure that he could no longer hear you.

You whipped around. “Ford! What was that?”

“I’m sick of you two dancing around the subject. If you just dated I wouldn’t have to sit out here every few months when you inevitably get dumped because you’re with the wrong person.”

You groaned and slid down in the lawn chair, covering your face with your hands. You actually liked the smoke that clung to Stan’s clothes, the deft flick of his thumb striking up the lighter. Why did you tell him you didn’t?

You’re a coward, your inner voice accused. You panicked. It wasn’t like you could exactly agree with Ford, especially not after what Stan said about your retainer. Did he mean that?

If he did, that was worse than anything else. Not only did he not harbor a secret attraction, but he was repulsed at the idea of you together.

Stan stumbled back down the beach a few minutes later, to your chagrin. It was much easier not to think of him when he wasn’t in front of you; even like this, swaying on his feet and looking slightly green.

“Stan, are you —?”

He lurched and fell face forward into the sand.

Ford glared at you like it was your fault. “This is the last time.”

“Sure. Just get his other side.”

“Thank you again, hun.” Caryn Pines smiled sweetly at you. The small kitchen smelled profusely of her perfume and cigarette smoke, wrapping around you like an embrace.

“Yeah, of course. No big deal.”

Caryn looked at you strangely, in that way that adults did sometimes. “You’re always takin’ care of my Stanley. I know he ‘ppreciates it, even if he doesn’t say it.”

“I couldn’t leave him on the beach.” You took a bite of the babka that Stan’s Ma put out, chewing thoughtfully. “Again.”

Caryn always tried to feed you when you came over, no matter how fleeting of a visit. You had seen her sneak the food out of packages and container and pass it off as her own, but you didn’t care. It encompassed her parenting abilities — well-meaning but slightly manufactured, a desire to be the mother that she wanted to be but not exactly the drive to put in the work.

Either way, you knew she loved you like her own.

“Ya know, I see the way he looks at you. And you look at him. It doesn’t take a psychic to figure it out,” Caryn said.

Your face warmed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He’s crazy ‘bout you. I know my Stanley.”

“But what if…what if we broke-up ? I can’t lose him in my life.” Tears strained your voice. Here you were, admitting your feelings to another Pines family member except for the one who actually needed to hear it.

Caryn clicked her tongue and edged around the island, pulling you into a hug. “But what if it’s great? What if it’s everything you imagined?”

“Maybe,” you said, muffled in her side.

Caryn gave you a final squeeze. “I could only pray for someone like you for my son. Say, you don’t happen to have a sibling for Ford, do ya?”

You shook your head. Caryn made a gesture like too bad then fiddled with the coffee machine.

“Here.” Caryn shoved a steaming mug in your direction, then wiped her hands on her dress. “Take this upstairs for me, will ya? I’ve gotta check on Shermie.”

You stood rooted in place for an embarrassing amount of time, mulling over what she had said. What if it was great? Your heart jumped. Maybe she was right. You would tell Stan.

Emboldened, you crept down the hall and past the living room. The TV flickered ghostly blue lights over the couch where Filbrick snored, and you were careful to avoid the creaky stairs. It wasn’t ever said aloud but everyone knew in the house not to disturb Pa after work. He wasn’t abusive, that you could tell, but somewhere on the verge of it.

Stan and Ford’s voice drifted from their shared bedroom — Stan’s gruff, drunken mumbles and Ford’s clever quips lined with affection.

You were going to tell him. You loved him.

A hitch of agitation in Stan’s voice made you pause at the first step, just out of earshot, a silver of light falling across you from the cracked door.

The delirious, bubbly feeling of excitement in your chest fluttered uncertainly.

“Oh, would give it a rest, Sixer?”

“Stan, I just think —”

“You know how I feel about her,” Stan interrupted. From your vantage point you could see him sprawled out on his bed, one hand over his face.

Her? Meaning you?

Your grip tightened on the mug. Here it was, the universe delivering you a sign that Caryn was right. That you were right.

The view didn’t offer any insight on Ford but you could hear his desk chair squeaking as he leaned backwards, contemplative. “And how do you feel about her?”

A beat of silence, the covers rustling as Stan lifted himself onto his elbows. “She’s my best friend.”

“Uh huh.”

“And-And of course I love her.”

“Uh huh.”

“But I could never date her.”

Your blood turned cold. What? Didn’t he just say that he loved you? Whatever brief, sweet bliss you had went plummeting into the ground. You turned away, coffee in hand, unable to listen to more.

Stan stared up at the ceiling, at the water stain that looked like an elephant. Sometimes when he tried to get his feelings out, the words would run circles around and around in his head until he chased them down. It didn’t help that he had drank so much.

Towards the end it wasn’t even really about Carla anymore, but you. You, with your dumb perfect face and laugh. The way that you stuck around despite knowing everything about him, about his family, leaving him feeling raw and infested like an overturned rock.

His stomach churned. Stan waited for the nausea to pass, pinning down his words before eking out, “I would fuck things up with her. It ain’t worth it. Losin’ her. Ya know?”

God he hoped he was making sense. The room was spinning and the elephant was now doing summersaults.

“I wouldn’t let you,” Ford quietly replied. “I know you love her. I’d stop you from fucking up.”

Stan laughed, dry and brittle. “No one can stop me. I’m a one man fuck-up.”

“You’ve never been one man.”

Stan curbed his nausea enough to look at his brother. Really look at him. Any other given day and he might’ve kicked him for saying something like that. His throat bobbed. “Yeah. Yer right.”

A moment passed between them, one of those brotherly, twin moments that he hadn’t felt since they were kids. Ford clapped his hands together.

“My first declaration of not letting you fuck up is to tell her tomorrow how you feel.”

“What? Tomorrow! No way.”

Ford narrowed his eyes. Stan waved a hand and flopped back down onto the bed, resigned. “Fine, fine. Hey, can you tell that elephant to stop moving? He’s bein’ a real dick.”

After that night, you avoided the Pines family like the plague, dodging after-class visits and letting calls go to the answering machine. Your parents asked where your “boyfriend” was, as they lovingly referred to him, but it only felt like salt in the wound. Stan would never be your boyfriend. He said it himself — he could never date you.

You hated the heavy grayness that clung to you, and most importantly, you hated that the one person you wanted to talk to about Stan was…Stan. And you couldn’t. How mortifying it would be to confess something so life altering for him to say that he only saw you as a friend.

Stan left message after message, wondering what he had done and if you could. But you couldn’t bear to see him. You ate lunch in the girl’s bathroom and nearly sprinted to your car after school, peeling out of the lot as soon as the final bell rang. He tried to come by your house, too. Your parents, loyal to you no matter how much they loved Stan, told him you weren’t there.

It was safe to say that, after a month of this, they were relieved when you stepped out of your room in actual clothes. Your mother actually clutched her pearls. “You look amazing. Where are you going? Did you make up with Stanley?”

You ignored that line of inquiry. “I have a date. Not with Stan,” you added, well aware that was the follow up question.

“Oh.” Your mother’s happiness faltered slightly. “Who with?”

“Just someone from school. I’ll make sure they drop me off before curfew.” You pretended to be oblivious to their probing stares, kissing them each on the cheek before striding out the front door to the idled car in the drive.

A dark shape shot out of the driver’s seat and scrambled to open up your door. Eugene glanced nervously at your house as you climbed in. “Are you sure you don’t want me to meet your folks?”

“I’m sure,” you said, monotone.

Eugene had been interested in you for a while now, but you always hedged your answers, not wanting to commit. Last week you finally said yes. You needed to get over Stan — even though the first thing you thought of was how he would laugh at Eugene for opening your door. You could just hear his rasping, seething laugh. Pussy, he would call Eugene, and you would punch him.

Throat thickening with tears, you forced yourself to admire Eugene in the glow of the streetlights that passed by. He was classically handsome. Smart, kind. A musician. Everything that, on paper, would make the perfect boyfriend. It was incredibly sweet that he wanted to meet your parents and open your car door.

Yet all you could think about was Stan: his untamed mullet and cauliflower ears from boxing, the nose slightly too large for his face that was crooked from all the fights he instigated. The braying sound of his laugh and how he thought it was funny to snap your bra strap. The fact that, beneath the jokes and the crude humor, he was soft and compassionate and an excellent artist. He always made you laugh. He was a million things that Eugene would never be.

But Eugene was one thing Stan wasn’t.

Interested in you.

You shoved all of that down by the time Eugene pulled up to your date, flashing him your most winning smile. A drive-in movie seemed innocent enough. You were confident that Eugene wouldn’t try to make any moves, but you still directed him to park near a minivan of children.

“Want to steal some candy from them?” You asked.

Eugene’s expression shifted as if you’d suggested something morally offensive. “What? From the kids?”

“I was just teasing,” you said. You hadn’t been.

Stan would’ve happily jumped at the offer, distracting the family with one of his wild stories while you snuck a pack of candy. The two of you would then share whatever snack and giggle the rest of the movie over your cleverness.

You felt like throwing up. Why couldn’t you stop thinking about Stan?

Abruptly you shoved open the door. “I’ll just go get snacks then.”

“Wait!” Eugene’s voice was muffled, you had already shot out of the car and nearly closed the door. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“I’ll pay,” Eugene said.

“It’s fine.”

You needed to get out. Needed to get away. Without waiting for any further questions, you slammed the door shut and stalked off towards the concessions. The night air was uncharacteristically cool, brushing over your flushed skin.

“Okay, calm down, you’re okay. You’re on a date with a nice guy,” you coached yourself.

“You’re on a date?”

You wheeled on your heel. Stan stood a few feet away, brow furrowed. His fur-lined jacket bulged with hidden contraband. “Stan?”

“You’re on a date?” He repeated, the timbre of his voice sinking dangerously low.

“Yes.” You raised your chin.

His jaw feathered. “I haven’t spoken to you in, like, a month. You’ve been dodgin’ my calls and avoidin’ me. What’s goin’ on? Now you’re on a date?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” you bit back.

“You don’t?” Stan barked out a scathing laugh. “You just stopped talkin’ to me without any s’planation. What am I supposed to think?”

You stepped into line at concessions. “I don’t know, Stan.”

“Talk to me.” Your name on his tongue was a prayer. “Please. I can’t take this.”

A knot formed in your stomach. You ordered for you and Eugene then brushed past Stan, ignoring his protests. He followed you to Eugene’s car. You wretched open the door, intending to fling yourself inside, but Stan stopped it. He leaned down to peer at your date.

“Eugene? Really? This guy?”

Eugene sputtered. You gritted out, “Stan. Go. Away.”

Stan’s dark gaze bounced from you to Eugene, then back to you. The look on his face was unreadable. “Fine.”

The door shut with a resounding thud. It took all of your strength not to watch him walk away. You tore off the top of a box of M&M’s and shoveled the candies into your mouth.

“Was that Stan Pines? I thought you guys were, like, friends,” Eugene finally said.

“Not anymore.” The candies slid down your throat, suddenly dry and pasty.

“Oh.” Eugene pretended to fiddle with the radio, switching through stations. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Mercifully, the movie screen flickered to life and saved you from more awkward conversation. You kept putting handfuls of candy in your mouth to keep from talking or interacting with Eugene at all. Frankly, you just wanted this date to end.

Eugene respected your space, too, which only worsened your conflicting emotions of shame and regret. You wished you could apologize to him but you couldn’t form the words.

You were jerked from your self-loathing when a huge shadow played across the screen, disrupting the movie. Yells of outrage sounded from across the grassy knoll, until the dark shape on the screen split apart. The candy in your stomach threatened to come up. The profile was unmistakably Stan’s, confirming your theory when you twisted around to spot him in front of the projector, entangled with Carla McCorkle.

He grabbed her hand, smirking at the enraged onlookers, and ran off.

Carla? Again?

Eugene examined you. “Do you…want to go somewhere else?”

“Yes. Please.”

He took you to get Dairy Queen, then dropped you back off at home. The passing shadows in the window told you that your parents had anxiously been awaiting your arrival. Eugene moved to get out, to open your door again, but you laid a hand on his arm.

“I’m really sorry. About tonight,” you choked out.

Eugene smiled sadly. “It’s okay.”

You kissed his cheek and climbed out of the car, up the stairs to your house. Eugene waited until you were safely inside before pulling away.

School sucked. You were forced to see Stan with any number of girls. In fact, it seemed as if he was going out of his way to flaunt them, the lingering touches and kisses. It burned you inside.

He preferred anyone but you.

Another month passed, each day growing more and more unbearable without your best friend, without Ford, the reliable foundation of your friendship. With the end of school approaching, so was college, the awaiting jaws of a monster threatening to swallow you whole. You couldn’t even tell them that you got accepted into your dream school.

When a hand grabbed your arm, the familiar face following, you were struck with a swell of emotions. But it wasn’t Stan. The body was all wrong, the measured expression never once belonging to him but his brother. Ford’s eyes were pleading. “We need to talk.”

“Stan can’t know about this,” you said after consideration. Ford nodded.

He brought you into a deserted classroom. You lingered near the door, not sure what to say after all of this time.

“Stan is falling apart,” Ford said without preamble. “I don’t know what happened, but neither of you can continue like this.” A flicker of vulnerability crossed his features. “I can’t.”

You inhaled. It wasn’t fair to drag Ford into this, but it was hard not to. You could never make him side against Stan. “I just…I can’t do it.”

“Do what?”

You turned your face from him, ashamed. “I heard him. That night after we brought Stan home from the beach. He said…he said he could never date me.”

Ford’s face shutters closed. “Is that all you heard?”

“I didn’t need to stick around to hear about how abhorrent the thought of dating me is,” you replied, tone bitter.

Ford flipped open his messenger bag and rifled through it, muttering something that sounded a lot like “two idiots” before finding what he needed. He handed you a folded flyer. “Stan is throwing a party here this weekend.”

“And you’re telling me this because…?”

“You should go.”

You glanced at the paper. The address stated a beach not far from your usual haunt, promising alcohol and a good time. Leave it to Stan to make invitations to a party like this, complete with crude renditions of women in bikinis. You clutched the paper. “I’ll think about it.”

Ford was halfway out the door when he stopped. “He really misses you.”

The words resonated with you the rest of the day. Sometime between meeting with Ford and that weekend, you decided you would go. Eugene told you he couldn’t go, he had to study, so you informed your parents you were going out and that was that. They let you without complaint, probably because you had been moping around the house the last two months.

Tonight you donned your best dress, black and sparkling and totally inappropriate for a beach party but when you bought it, at the mall with the twins, Stan hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off you. There had been no reason to wear it until now and you secretly hoped he had forgotten about it so you could shock him all over again.

By the time you arrived, sweat had gathered at the base of your neck and dampened your hair. You regretted wearing the dress upon seeing the other girls in their bikinis and hotpants, and made a beeline for the keg to soothe your nerves.

The beer was sticky and warm. You sipped it, wishing that instead of being here with people you didn’t know (or care about) you were with Stan and Ford on lawn chairs. The usual. Instead you gazed out upon the rest of the party and found Ford, trapping someone into listening to his theories most likely, and Stan presiding over a beer pong games.

Almost as if your gaze was a beacon, Stan looked up immediately as you spotted him. A cord of familiarity, of affection, tied you together and you could feel its tug behind your navel.

Stan stormed over to you, kicking up sand in his wake. “What are you doing here?”

“Ford invited me.”

“He did?” Stan searched for his brother, who had conveniently found somewhere else to be. “Why are you here?”

“I got invited, remember?”

“Where’s Eugene? Is he here, too?”

“No.” You didn’t feel like giving him an explanation, didn’t need to. You especially didn’t want to tell Stan that it was because you were still in love with him.

His dark eyes hardened. “Where is he?”

“What does it matter to you?”

Stan’s mouth moved as if he was biting back a retort, debating whether to say it. He raked a hand through his hair. He spit. “It doesn’t.”

You spent the rest of the party drifting from place to place, never lingering long. The bonfire funneled smoke into the air, as inconsistent and tangible as you, a ghost on the outskirts. You’re not sure why you came, why Ford invited, why you were still here. The beer had given you a nice buzz, a certain looseness in your limbs, and you decided that was enough. You started up the sandy dunes, shoes in hand, when you heard the sand behind you being displaced by footsteps.

Stan followed you, silhouetted by the fire in an orange haze. “What do you want?”

“I’m walking you home.”

“No. You’re not.” You marched off.

He trailed behind. You thought that he might get bored or fed up and leave you alone but he persisted. Only once you hit the sidewalk did you furiously spin around. “What do you want?”

“I ain’t lettin’ you walk home by yourself,” he replied.

“I walked here by myself. I’m fine.”

Stan took a few steps toward you. “Just let me do this, okay?”

“It’s your party, you shouldn’t leave,” you replied.

“Exactly. My party. I can do what I want.” Stan drew to his full height, shoulders back, reminding you that without his rounded posture he cut an intimidating figure. But it wasn’t intimidation he sought, but protection — protection of you.

Your back molars gritted together. “Fine.”

It actually felt nice, relieving, actually, to walk side by side with him. He maintained a step or two behind you, undoubtedly sensing your anger, but you didn’t correct him. You stayed like that, your strange, wordless dance all the way to your house. When Stan moved as if to follow you inside, what he would’ve done before, you barred him from the door.

“You shouldn’t,” you told him softly.

His brow furrowed and Stan shoved his hands in the pocket of his jacket. The porch awning cast him half in shadows. “What did I do? I know you’re punishin’ me but what I can’t figure out is why.”

“I’m not…I’m not punishing you.” You wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Then what? Is it your new boyfriend?”

“Who, Eugene?” You shook your head. “No, this isn’t because of him. And he’s not my boyfriend.”

“He’s not?”

“No.”

“What ‘bout yer date?”

“It was just one time. And it was a mistake,” you admitted.

“Tell me what’s goin’ on.”

Stan’s infuriatingly handsome features were set in determination. You wanted to go to him, bury yourself in his chest and let him envelope you. But that same feeling twisted, grew sharp teeth that latched on and refused to let go.

“Why? What do you care?” You fired back. “You’ve been so busy with your tongue down every girl’s throat that I’m surprised you even noticed I wasn’t around.”

Something shifted in Stan, a spark igniting into an inferno. “You’ve been avoidin’ me and ignorin’ my calls, refusin’ to speak to me without telling me why. I don’t get it. If you’re so against me, then why do you care what I do?”

You hissed back, “I don’t. But it’s hard to miss when you’re dry humping your flavor of the week in front of the whole school.”

“How do you think I felt when I saw you with Eugene?”

You paused, his words soaking into your skin. The fist of anger in your stomach loosened at the pain in those words, if only slightly. “I didn’t know you were going to be there, Stan. And I didn’t think it would matter even if you were. You could never date me.”

“What?” Stan’s entire body stiffened.

“You said it yourself,” you said. You were loathed to say the words aloud, which made you cry, which only made you angry to be crying. “You could never date me.”

“When did I ever say that?”

“I heard you,” you said. You explained to him how you had overheard the conversation between him and Ford that night. He listened the entire time, quiet and unmoving.

Stan rubbed a hand over his face. “You didn’t stick around to find out why?”

“Sorry if I didn’t want to hear how repulsive and horrible I was,” you snapped.

“I told Ford that I couldn’t date you because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. The last few months have been hell, doll. Going without you every day has been…unbearable.” Stan brushed his knuckles over your cheek, tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Please don’t make me go through that again.”

You leaned into his touch, eyes swimming with tears. “I’m sorry, Stan. I only did it because I couldn’t stand to be around you if you didn’t feel the same way.”

“Same way?” Stan’s mouth morphed into a tired, wistful smile. “I’ve loved you since that first day in class. Since you saw them passin’ that note and instead of bein’ upset you raised your chin.”

You faltered. “You love me?”

“Of course I love you.” Such a simple, genuine statement.

“Stan, I love you too. I’m so sorry —”

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve just told you how I feel. I’m an idiot.”

You touched his arm. “No, you’re not. Well, you are, but not because of that. I was scared too. And I hurt you.”

“I’m tough.” Stan lifted your chin up, forcing you to look at him. In his face you saw a whole lifetime of memories, of laughter. “But you gotta promise me not to ignore me again. Messed me up so bad that Ford said he saw me stare at a wall for two days straight without sayin’ a word.”

“You? Not talking?”

“I know.” Stan shuddered. His composure softened a bit, examining you as if seeing you for the first time. “When I told you that you were my girl, I meant it. You’re the only girl for me.”

In way of reply, you grabbed the front of his jacket and pressed your lips to his.

You had kissed before, in middle school, just to get the first one over with. It had been brief and awkward, his front tooth clashing off yours. This kiss maintained the same level of comfort, of familiarity and safety, but charged with a current of passion. He kissed you like he had been waiting his whole life to do it again, pulling you into him in a frenzied manner.

Stan’s tongue ran over the seam of your lips, parting them so that he could slip inside, invited by your breath of surprise. You melted into him. Everything about him, this moment, felt right. Perfect. His hands in your hair and roving over the form-fitting dress you had worn for him, sighing and muttering praises on your flushed skin.

You didn’t stop until the porchlight flickered on and the front door ensnared you in its beam. Stan still held you to him, lips bruised, frozen. Your mother took one look at you entangled together on the porch and then sighed in relief.

“Well, finally.”

#gravity falls #stanley pines #fanfic #writers on tumblr #writing #stanley pines x reader #stanley pines x you #stan pines x you #request #reqs open

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cupidssorbet · 1 year ago

Text

“Let me use these fangs..”

Miguel O’Hara X Reader.

Summary: None! Muahaha! Includes: Biting, slight blood-kink, teasing, body appreciation, Mentions of the word ‘cunt’ & ‘pussy’, slight smug Miguel, just some filth babes.

★Please read!★ The reader has no specified race etc so it’s very much just put yourself in that place! Anyways you’re reading at your own volition, this was inspired by this tiktok: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRowUMqa/ !

You were working on some dinner for him for when he finally came home from what you called his shenanigans and what he called incredibly important. Humming along to the music that played from your speaker, dancing about as he came through the front door, his mask just barely coming up and off. You immediately catching his eyes as you swayed your hips to the music.

God it did something to him, all day long he’d been thinking about you, your face, your body, your voice, your cunt. It did something to him.

That’s why it came as a surprise to you when Miguel’s hands found your hips as he set his mask off to the side. His lips going straight for your neck as he left open mouthed kisses. “Miguel?” You managed to spit out, as you carefully put the wooden spoon you were using to stir the food in the pan down. “What is the meaning for all of this? not exactly complaining.”

You breathed out as his fangs grazed across your neck, his breath fanning against it. “He estado pensando en ti.(I've been thinking about you.)” Miguel exhaled slightly, sucking a hickie into your skin. “Me? Why- Ohhh sweet god, Why uh Why me?” You managed to get out getting stuck on some words like a broken record.

“Estas caderas, esos muslos, estos labios, este coño...(These hips, those thighs, these lips, this pussy...).” His hands snaked around feeling everywhere he could, “It’s been plaguing my mind all day.”

“God..But Miguel I’ve got dinner going I really should..” He quickly reached his hand down and flicked off the fire, “There, Now you won’t have to worry.” Miguel was quick with picking you up and bringing you up to your shared bedroom, shutting the door with his foot and gently tossing you onto the bed with a slight ‘Miguel!’ as he made his way over, “God I’ve been waiting for this,” He brought his hand to snake past your waistband of your pants and panties, finding your cunt slick and wet as he brought his mouth to kiss you, bring his kisses to come down your chin and neck leaving small bites on your neck as he went.

“All wet for me huh Chiquita?” He murmurs with that stupid smug slight smirk that you felt on your skin. His fingers rubbing gently in a teasing way on your clit, bringing it down to your needy hole dipping in causing you to gasp slightly. A slight chuckle coming him as he continued to kiss everywhere he could.

He kept pumping with one finger then two, your eyes fluttering as your breathing got labored. “I’m only just getting started and look at you a mess.” he pulls back pulling his fingers out and bringing them to his mouth cleaning them effortlessly. “Strip.” He says and that’s all you need hear, moving as fast as you could to slide it off, shirt gone to the floor as well as your pants and your underwear & bra.

“Lay down Querida.(Darling)” He motions for you lay down against the propped up pillows, you lay back your hair splayed behind you watching as he removed his suit. You couldn’t help but stare at his face, his chest, his whole body.. he was left in just his boxers as he climbed onto the bed hooking his arms underneath your legs, bringing you closer. “I can put these to use,” he flashes his fangs, licking up the supple flesh of your inner thighs.

He left purple hickies all along your thighs purposefully missing where you wanted him most, gently biting into it licking the blood that slightly dribbled from the bites he put too much pressure on, reveling in the way you tried to bring your cunt to his face and he denied you every time.

“Miguelll..” You whine your head lolling back, “Alright��Alright,” He smiles smugly into your thigh at your whining. He brings his mouth down to your wet stick cunt licking a long stripe from your wet hole to your clit. Keeping eye contact until he dove in without hesitation. Your hand flying to cover your mouth, a gasp coming your lips. He stops, one of his hands taking yours and moving it. “No no, I wanna hear all of those noises.” He states before going straight back to what he was doing.

Eating you out like he was a starved man, his hands gripping your thighs massaging them as he continued your slick coating his chin and lips, making his fangs & lips shine. Your hands find his hair as you gasp and cry to him, tangling them into his soft hair. He groans into your cunt, that familiar feeling rising in your stomach, then he adds his fingers pumping two of them in and out. It added to the pressure and then it snapped, he lapped it up. Leaning back wiping his chin of your slick.

“God..I missed your cunt.” he hummed licking his fingers clean, the now noticeable bulge catching your eye as he brought himself up. Your rose from your spot bringing your hand to palm him making his breath hitch slightly. “Miguel let me help you please.” You looked up at him through your lashes. “You sure you can handle it?” He looks down at you exhaling slightly.

You nodded slightly, and he couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. “Alright belleza(beauty).” He exhales with a slight smirk taking your spot. You smiled hurrying over laying between his legs, moving your hands up to pull down his boxers his cock springing free with a bead of precum coming from the tip. Your hand immediately coming to it, rubbing up and down your thumb coming over the tip making him inhale.

“Please..Don’t tease me like that.” He groans his head leaning back against the headboard, you smiled licking stripes up his dick before completely taking him in your mouth, pumping what you couldn’t take. Humming slightly when you heard him make noises at a reaction making him exhale shakily even more.

You moved your head in a steady up and down, gagging slightly when the tip hits the back of your throat. He revels when you gag on him, it makes him feel some kind of way. He thrusts up slightly into your mouth, spit coming to the corners of your mouth as you tried your best to still take him. His hand finds your cheek wiping any tears that fell from your eyes.

Before he could even cum in your mouth, he pulls out and sighs. “Please let me use that cunt.” He asked so politely and you couldn’t deny him, he looked so desperate. You smiled before gasping as his hands found your hips lifting you above before his tip slid through your folds. Before he gently as he possibly could pushed it in.

Groaning as it went into your warm tight pussy, “Ohhh..” You slurred as he was barely filling you with only being half way on his cock. He slowly brought you down onto it carefully before he was fully sheathed inside you. “So tight and warm.” He exhaled in your ear letting you lean back on his chest, his hand finding your clit rubbing gently circles as you murmured and mumbled.

“You like that?” All you could do was nod, “Uh-Huh, Tell me.” He demanded his fangs finding your exposed neck gently nipping and biting. “Yeah, Yeah..Really like.” you sputtered out, eyes batting closed then open lazily sitting half lidded. He smiled smugly into your neck, “Mm..Good Good,”

He had set a pace, one that started out soft and careful before he got to into it. Becoming rougher, his hand bringing your hand to rub your clit, his groans and slight whines in your eyes making you clench around his dick. “Dios cariño, ¿te gusta eso?(God honey, do you like that?)” He chuckled breathlessly.

His thrusts becoming erratic and sloppy, your cunt spasming as you came around cock, he couldn’t help but speed up at the feeling. “Feels too damn good..” He sighs his breathing labored, uneven and hot on your skin. Sweat beading at your forehead. “Please please.” You whine in more of a whisper.

“Hm?” He murmurs, “Miguel please..” He chuckles, “You,You want it in?” He hums kissing a bit rougher in your shoulder and neck, “Yes yes..” You nodded as he rammed up in your cunt as wet squelch coming from it. He sped up, “Almost there..Can you let go for me one more time, please Cariño.” His hand finds your clit rubbing circles making you clench around him.

The feeling of everything made you both snap, your cunt clenching around him spasming as he shot his white hot cum into you, his head lolling back doing slow sloppy thrusts into you. Your fluids mixing as he finally came to a slow. Out of breath and laughing slightly, “Was it what you’ve been thinking about all day?”

He gave you a kiss on the cheek, “Of course, Better than I ever dream of.” He carefully pulls out of you, making you whine at the empty feeling. “C’mon, let’s get a nice warm bath.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara smut #Cupidssorbettlibrary

1K notes · View notes

themochiverse · 10 months ago

Text

The Monster Under the Bed | KNJ

➳ Pairing: yan!nightmare!demon!nj x fem!reader

➳ Genre: Yandere, Horror, Monster Au

➳ Warnings: Swearing, consumption of alcohol, mentions of tera-phphobia (fear of monsters), childhood abuse and trauma, mention of an alcoholic parent, gore, violence, blood, injuries, asphyxiation, gagging, NON-CON kissing and touching (not sexually), Namjoon degrades the reader a bit, supernatural torment, physical harm to the reader, the reader goes a bit crazy, mentions of soul-eating?…. Anyways

➳ Synopsis: When a human falls asleep they face two realms: the dream and nightmare world— where one is controlled by the angels to kiss you goodnight, and the other controlled by unknown creatures that push behind your darkest fears. So when your constant fear of monsters hiding under your bed continues to grow in your life, one peculiar nightmarish friend becomes infatuated to keep it that way.

➳ Word Count: 6.7k+

➳ Disclaimer: This fanfic is purely from my imagination, I do not intend to harm any Idol or person in any way. Nor sexualising them. Please do not steal any ideas from here, this is all of my work and original work. I DO NOT CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOUR.

No part of the story can be copied, reproduced, redistributed or transformed into any other form. Meaning no photocopying, recording whether written or electrically. No methods are allowed that uses anything from this fic. This follows in the permitted Copyright Law. All images and/or gifs go to their rightful owners.

A/N: Fuck my lazy ass, I got it done, and I hope the story is good! I wasn’t bothered to add a banner cuz I was too excited to post, I’ll add one later one. Anyways, enjoy!

Taglist; @minshookie29 @6tslovr @proflyndo @pinkcherrybombs @papijiminfeed @justanotherstarlightmonger @kittykatfey @princess-sunshyn @jinniesjoon94 @trashlord-007

You're asleep.

Head tucked in gently in the crevice of your elbow, the soft quilt tangled by your ankles as you parted your dry lips open, swallowing the icy air. After a long day of work exhaustion crept up on you, and once your head hit the pillow— like a spell chanted on you, you fell asleep. Subtle chirps could be heard from outside your fogged-up window but you wouldn't notice it anyway. As your body was at rest, your mind was yoked within a dream.

The breeze howled in your ear and your legs dangling from the old wooden bridge you sat on. The moon hid behind the thick clouds, ultimately bringing darkness to surround you. The field behind you swayed in the wind, and the tall grass whispered as they shook together.

Snap

Your head spun around to the impulsive noise, and your heart dropped. From a good distance stood an old man. He was decorated with long boots and a hat that covered his face. Your eyes followed his arm, it was clenched on an object so tightly that you recognised it within a second. It was a liquor bottle.

You knew him, you knew who he was.

“Y/N,” his voice dropped and trembled, “have you seen daddy’s new bottle?”

He stomped his foot, walking over to you with rage building up inside him. Instinctively, you got up and ran straight to the empty field, your bare feet facing any prick that came along the way. You could hear his footsteps getting closer but you won’t turn your head. You will never turn your head to see him.

But you stopped in your tracks as the sight of the old man appeared in front of you again. He raised his bottle high in the air, and you cowered in fear, covering your face as he was about to strike. You shrieked waiting for the impact, but it never came. Instead, your mind felt dizzy when your eyes opened to the familiar surroundings.

Old drawings of animals were stuck on the wall, the vanity mirror was disguised with dust and there were the broken scars on a cupboard next to your old bed.

Your childhood room.

With haste, you trudged to the door to leave but it creaked shut, and darkness clouded your sight. Your hands fiddled with a butterfly lamp that was on the bedside table, and your fingers wriggled to find the switch.

The insects cried, the wind roared and something whispered. You froze at that, and your eyes followed the gap under the bed. You gulped, clenching your fist as your nails dug deep into your skin.

Nothing is there Y/N, nothing is there—

“Are you sure?” A hoarse voice rumbled and you flinched. Your heart pounded as you felt your body giving up on you. Your legs shook and they dropped to the floor as you felt yourself being dragged to the dreaded place that has practically haunted you for your whole life.

“No…” you mumbled, “Please no!”

Red eyes blinked at you, and they glinted in mischief. A snarl vibrates and a long black hand appears—claws lingering within the air before it grasps your chin, bringing your face closer to him.

“Aren't you a pretty little thing?”

You couldn't see the creature that spoke to you but you shivered at its touch. The energy was drained from your body and your mind went fuzzy. This creature’s touch left a numb feeling in your head. Void. Alone. But alone with him. Your eyes could only witness the darkness within and your hands weakly clutched onto the dirty bedsheets as you felt this creature pull you closer.

“Still scared? Didn't Daddy teach you enough to not be afraid of monsters?” The voice left hot words in your ear and your neck stiffened at the comment. How the fuck does it know?

With little courage, you spoke.

“What do you want from me?”

A deep chuckle erupted in the room, and the grip on your chin loosened a bit.

“My, my, this is the first question you wanted to ask me? Very well, I’ll answer honestly for you,” his other hand came to caress your cheek, “You see, I'm very picky when it comes to what type of humans I want to devour. There's just something in your soul that's very precious to me, and it would be very precious to any other creature too—“

Your hands grabbed onto the cold claws that held your face, and you tried to get out of his hold. Your breathing quickened. What did he just say? Devouring humans? You struggled futilely in his hold, your clammy palms soon gave up. The grip on your chin tensed this time, and they hushed you with ease.

“Shh, my darling. Let me continue before I let you go,” the creature hummed before proceeding, “In other words, I want you and your soul. I want to be with you forever.”

Your eyes widened at those proclamations and the claw that was settled against your cheek crawled up to your forehead.

“Now wake.”

You gasped as you jolted in your bed. Sweat stuck to the back of your shirt, your body was burning and you felt suffocated. It was just a nightmare Y/N, just a fucking nightmare. You slid off your bed and a fluffy brown tail tickled your legs. Your body hunched as you stared at your adorable cat.

“Morning Max, you need some breakfast?” The cat blinked its eyes slowly before calling out to you as it walked out of your room. You sighed, stretching as you went after your pet into the kitchen. The sun was covered by clouds and the day groaned dimly.

Max purred as you grabbed the packet of food and began to pour it into his favourite bowl. His head dived in, and tiny crunches escaped from his small mouth. You squeezed the packet in your hand, the slippery texture on your palms was still there. You tapped your foot impatiently as the remembrance of the sudden nightmare continued to dawn on you.

This didn't feel right, the nightmare felt way too realistic. And how would a monster know about your past? Maybe it was understandable, you had a traumatic childhood and your combined phobia was already monstrous. It was unsettling though, the way it grabbed your face and talked to you. Especially how you immediately felt weak by its presence..anyone would get chills from it.

Ding.

A chime vibrated from your phone as you checked it.

Rosewood Clinic: Scheduled Appointment at 9:45 am with Doctor Link. Please arrive 20 minutes earlier. If you wish to cancel or reschedule please call us at xxx-xxx-xx

Right, the appointment. You completely forgot about it, and now you have more to discuss with your doctor.

Didn't Daddy teach you enough to not be afraid of monsters?

“Daddy, can we please go to the fair today? Please?” You pouted at your father, begging him to go to the country fair.

“Alright, we’ll go. Call your mama for me?” He asked and you smiled happily as you went to get your mum.

“Mama! Mama! Guess what? Daddy said we’re going to the fair today.” You exclaimed proudly, giggling when your mother picked you up in her arms. Her hair shone in the sunlight, and she kissed your cheek softly.

“That’s great news sweetie, come on your father must be waiting.”

Your family arrived at the fair, and loud country music rang in your ears. There were multiple rides and food stalls, vibrant colours and the laughter of children brought merriment. The scent of fresh food and screams echoed in the background as you had the opportunity to roam free.

“Y/N, come here. Daddy here is gonna win a prize for you,” your father gleefully said before he resumed the challenge he had to face. You watched with big eyes as your father held small darts, his arm flexed before he threw them.

Pop

The small balloons popped and a medium teddy bear is given to your dad.

“Here ya go princess.” With a chaste kiss to your cheek you laugh, holding tight onto the teddy bear. The fun day went by fast, your father had you in his arms and you rested your head on his shoulder. The noises from the fair soon disappeared as your family inched closer to the parking lot.

“Hey there partner, it's been a while, hasn't it?”

A gruff voice spoke out from the shadows and your dad halted in his tracks. The streetlight dimmed the place an ugly yellow. You felt two arms pull you away from your dad’s grasp and you were with your mother now.

“What the hell do you want Rodrick?”

“Have you forgotten to pay your debt? Did ya get too carried away with our money?” The man named Rodrick gestured towards you and your mum, and his eyes travelled to the fair.

“Leave them out of this.”

“Give me the fucking money, I know you have it.”

“I don't have it—”

“Give me the fucking money or I’ll shoot them!”

Rodrick pulled out a gun, pointing it straight at you both. Your mother hugged you, turning your head to the side as goosebumps drove all over her.

“Hey…hey, lets talk about this okay? This is between you and me, leave my family alone,” your dad said calmly as he eyed the gun, “put the gun down Rodrick—”

“No! Do you know the shit I had to go through because of you? They beat me up and killed my brother, you think that ain't enough till they come for me? I need the money now, give me the money.”

Your dad took a step forward, his hands were in the air as he inched closer to Rodrick.

“The fuck you doing man? I said give me the money!” The gun swung to your father as he was close to grasping the object.

“Don’t come closer or I’ll shoot.” Rodrick’s hand shook and his lips trembled. He was going to die soon, he needed the money desperately.

You peeked your head to the side and saw your father lunge at the man as they both fell to the ground. They wrestle on the ground, your father trying to get the gun off of Rodrick.

“Get to the car!” Your father yelled and your mother ran with you. The sight of your father fighting gets smaller and smaller as you're close to approaching the car.

Bang

A gasp echoed in the background, like a silent serpent ready to strike before falling to its own downfall. Crows cawed and the birds flew away from nearby trees. Like a tower descending, your mother fell on top of you.

“Y/N? Y/N?”

Your head shook off the thoughts as you stared at your doctor. You had zoned out before you had realised it, and with a fake smile, you responded.

“Sorry, I—”

“It’s alright Y/N, sometimes we remember the things we don't want to see. Tell me how your week has been.”

A clock ticked in the room and you stared at the pale woman. Her black hair almost went grey as she tried to keep a straight posture.

“Um, nothing much. Just work keeping me busy, and I've been getting a couple of nightmares lately.”

The scritching of paper caught your ears as you watched Doctor Link write down the things you mentioned.

“Nightmares, I see. I assume it's still because of your father or?” A long pause was held in the air before you replied.

“Still because of my dad, which I don't know why because I stopped having them a while ago, so I thought it would stop.”

“Okay, we've discussed this before Y/N, due to the abuse and trauma you faced at a young age, the memories we've collected can sometimes—”

“Monsters too. My phobia of monsters made it worse.”

“Okay, tell me about the nightmare then.”

You squeezed your hands together, the sweat starting to form again.

“…and then I was back at that place, and there was this whispering coming from my bed. For some reason, my body just dropped and this claw grabbed onto my face. It spoke to me, saying that it wants to be with me forever..”

Scratch

A loud sigh poured out from the doctor’s mouth, “Y/N, the phobia you have is because it was transformed by your dad. Ultimately as this is a nightmare, the things you say about this monster, are not real. It isn't real, and it’s not going to harm you. I can guarantee you that.”

You rubbed your palms together, the voice inside you wanting to rip you apart for not speaking up.

It felt real, too real.

You’re back home, frustration building up inside you. Maybe the doctor was right, it was just a nightmare. With past events and your stupid phobia, it just made you a mess. You wondered what the monster looked like, all you could see was a black void and long black hands. But you should be glad you didn’t see its face, after all, only the devil disguises its impurity.

Max is asleep on the couch, the fluff ball in a vulnerable position. You grinned at the sight of him, taking a photo. The house felt quiet since you lived alone, and that nightmare, gosh that fucking nightmare keeps haunting you like a freak.

You decided to enter your bedroom, eyes automatically clinging to the gap underneath the wooden exterior. It’s fucking childish, why would you be scared of something like a ridiculous monster?

They’re not real, they’re not supposed to be real. Your stomach churned uncomfortably as you knelt, crouching and angling your head to the side to get a better glimpse of the number of things you put in there.

Just enough to block the gap, just enough to make you feel safe. It was like a shield to protect you, but little did you know that shield would come crumbling down because of you.

There were a couple of old boxes, empty perhaps, and decorative pieces to make it look messy. You kept staring at the very back endlessly, your room was dark, with the curtains drawn— you made a mistake.

Your breath hitched, fingers gripping onto your carpet thread as you swear you saw something blink at you. The house is dead, and the longer you stare at the dark end, the more you see the eyes. Though, they weren’t red this time but a dull white. Almost grey, but it blinked.

“Y/N…”

No… not now. What you heard can’t be real.

“Get the fuck out of my head,” you mumbled to yourself. A sudden urge grew deep within you, you needed something.

Wine

You needed some wine.

You jumped out of that position, drawing the curtains open to bring some light into the room. You gnawed on your thumbnail as you practically ran out of the room. You could hear your heart racing, the blood pumping faster and faster as you opened the wine cabinet.

Unscrewing the bottle, you poured a full glass, swallowing a tremendous amount of the crimson liquid as it trickled down your chin.

You sunk to the floor as you hugged your knees, your back rested against the cabinet. Fucking phobia, what Doctor Link had mentioned…. Was it true? Did this phobia happen because of your dad, or were you always just a fucking coward?

The grip on your wine glass tightened as you shut your eyes, hellish memories enveloping you like a greedy pig.

“This is all because of you!”

Slap

“Your Mother is dead because of you!”

Slap

“Get the fuck out of my sight, you keep reminding me of her. Get out before I fucking kill you.”

A bottle is thrown in your direction, and the glass stabbed into your skin makes you wobble. You felt numb, your body was bruised and battered at this point, and the blood that trickled from your forehead was damping your broken soul. When you fell with a thud, your father left, banging the doors shut.

Ironically unlike your mother, your father left you instead of running to you. Maybe there was no purpose to live anymore, you had no meaning, no goal or desire.

You should have died instead of your mother that night if you ever knew this would be the conclusion. Warm tears trailed down your face, they mixed with the blood as you stared at the ceiling.

It felt like staring at your mother, the same cold expression on her face as those tears continuously fell from her eyes before her final wheezes ceased.

Your father’s yell echoed in the background as your delicate hands cradled your mother’s soft cheeks. Except this time, there was no one to do that for you.

Your vision blurred, hoping that you would see your mother right now. It didn't matter if she appeared like a ghost, even if it sounded ridiculous.

Maybe she hated you for not taking her place. You're eyes scanned to a clock that ticked silently, and it was midnight. How much longer could you bear this?

You wanted to finally leave this hellhole. But you winced in pain, and the sound of the front doors opening made you freeze. Loud footsteps came closer as you saw your father’s dishevelled appearance.

“You’re still here?” He grunted as he plopped another box of vodka bottles onto a large table.

It was quick and painful as you felt your hair tugged upwards. Your hands weakly slapped your father’s rough wrists as he dragged you to your room upstairs.

“No, Daddy, please… I'm sorry.” Your eyes widened as he pushed you into your room, locking the doors shut. It was utterly dark, all the lights in your room were either torn apart by your father or destroyed by him.

You slid onto your bed, shielding yourself with the dirty covers as you shook. You always heard a voice whenever this happened, and one night you saw the thing that spoke to you.

It looked like a human and you caught the slightest glimpse of it before hell broke loose. Their skin glowed, and a white t-shirt was worn as they walked across your room. You remembered what he wore so well, yet you didn't remember him.

Your eyes opened as your butt began to feel sore. The glass was empty and only the stains of the red wine remained. Your body felt drained, the memories collapsed on you and you struggled to get up.

You trudged to your room quietly, closing the door shut as you crawled into your bed. Like a train coming to its last destination, your memories do the same, you don’t remember what happened after you were locked in your room.

It wasn't too long before you went back again to the realms, too bad they were interconnected.

When you trembled in your bed that night, the blood soaking the pillow, Namjoon grinned. Not because of what terrible consequence you had faced, but because he finally found a perfect person like you.

He spent years devouring the souls of many individuals but neither ever satisfied his hunger at all. He could keep as many humans as he would like, and he had the choice to not kill them. If he had you, he didn't need to waste more years to find another suitable victim.

He didn't know how he was entranced by you at first, maybe it was the way you'd brush your hair or how you tried to smile after suffering from your injuries. But you caught his eye, his heart would race whenever he saw you.

But rage took over him whenever he saw your father beat you, even though he had the power to do something, he already sensed that your father was going to be dead soon anyway.

He was really hungry that night, starving himself on purpose just so he could get a taste of your sweet soul, consume the euphoric feeling of your fear so he felt energised enough to convince you to stay with him.

But would you?

He didn’t mean to go overboard, he just really needed to have a bit of your soul. It wasn’t going to harm you any way and he wasn’t doing anything wrong, he needs to live too.

The sudden harsh whispers and calls of your name made you shiver and Namjoon watched in delight. He needed to transform and watch your beautiful expressions fall into place.

Oh, it was terrible, terribly good.

“Sweetie….my baby, Y/N?” You stiffened at the familiar feminine voice that came from underneath your bed. It couldn't be true, your mother was dead. But… did she listen to your prayers to God?

Hesitantly you replied, “Mama? Is that you?” Your voice shook as you waited for a response.

“My darling, why didn't you save me? Look at how miserable your father is.” Her voice wavered in the air and you swore you could feel her presence right beside you. Her words scarred into your mind, this didn’t sound like her at all.

Without hesitation, you pulled the covers off of you in a rush, and your heart dropped at the sight of darkness in front of you. Your mother was not here, then how the hell did you hear her voice?

“Y/N…?” You froze and your breaths started to become quick. You glanced down from the side of your bed, the voice was coming from there. Your knuckles were tense and white when you gripped your blanket, there’s no fucking way.

Silence clouded your sense of hearing as a long black claw stretched out from underneath the bed, its nails scratched the wooden floor before it rushed back.

Your breath hitched as you felt a cold exhale next to your ear. You bit your bottom lip harshly, chewing on the spot as you craned your neck slowly. Your pulse quickened when you saw the figure.

Their eyes glimmered in the dark and you gasped, an audible yell for help prepared to leave from your throat.

But he lunged at you, one inhuman hand pinning your wrists tightly above your head while the other was clamped over your mouth.

Your screams were muffled by his long black claws as you writhed underneath him. His demonic form took over, and red eyes blinked into yours as he watched your head snap upwards. His red eyes stared at you with adoration, God you were so cute. He shushed you softly as he wiped your tears.

“If I let go, promise you won't scream?”

You calmed yourself down a bit as he removed his hand away from your mouth. He delicately traced your quivering lips, grinning at the sight of your compliance.

“I know you're scared sweetheart, but you need to be a good girl for me, yeah? I've been watching over you for a while now, and you're such a good person. But you need someone, a bit of healing and protection to make you feel less lonely. I've come to offer that, I'll heal you and protect you in exchange for a bit of your soul.”

This thing had been watching you? For how long?

The grip on your wrists loosened momentarily as he leaned closer to you. Your eyes scanned its features—if you removed the black claws and the red eyes, it almost looked human.

“But the thing is, you have no say in this anyway. I nearly killed myself because of you, starving to death to finally have you. Don't you feel guilty? Making a poor monster like me wait for a long time to taste your soul?”

Namjoon wanted you to feel bad, and miserable for him. He chuckled softly, you were a monster too for making him suffer like that.

You felt your body sink into the mattress further, wrists weakly wriggling in his iron-grip hold.

“I just need you to listen to me, and everything will be okay.”

He grabbed your cheeks, squeezing them harshly so you could open your lips.

“Come on baby, open wide for me,” he murmured and he pushed one claw deep inside your open mouth.

You gagged repeatedly as you felt it go down your throat, and your mind fogged with pain. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, your lungs restricting any oxygen to escape. It hurt for a split second like something was being removed from your body entirely. It was solid and rough with jagged edges, your throat started to burn as panic settled in.

You couldn’t breathe.

You watched the thing turn more demonic, and it hovered over you as you helplessly felt too tired and weak to even do anything at this point. Your eyes blurred as you felt suffocated, and your heart pumped wildly.

Your mouth was wide open as you exhaled a heavy breath and a clear cloud-like bubble came out. The claw was soon withdrawn and you gasped for air.

You thought it was over, heck no, you thought it was fake. But he was still here, right in front of you. Black hair covered its demonic look as it devoured the bubble in one go.

You froze in fear, tears falling from your face as it looked at you.

“Such a sweet soul,” he murmured before lowering his face, “would you mind if I had more?”

Before you could even protest or utter a scream, you felt his dangerous hands crawl up your thigh, his sharp claws piercing through your skin lightly. It burned with every stroke, and you whimpered. His touch was numbing your mind, but you could still feel the pain ripping through you.

“Shh, be a good girl for me,” his hand wrapped around your throat, “and don’t fucking scream.”

You felt his cold lips on yours, his claws continued with their marks as they neared your chest. You realised too late that not only was your mind numb, but your body was paralysed. You couldn’t fight him, you couldn’t do anything to escape from this hell.

Your fingertips twitched when he shoved his tongue inside your mouth, and his claws finally reached the centre of your stomach.

At first, it was like multiple thumbtacks were piercing your body that soon felt like large knives sinking inside of you. Your eyes widened when you saw his sharp claws press into your stomach, the blood escaping as almost half of his hand was inside. You felt your insides twisting as a muffled, hoarse scream erupted from your mouth and Namjoon swallowed it all, pressing even deeper.

He was sucking the life out of you, his claws finally grasping onto a bit of your soul. His kiss was a form of intimacy, but it was much easier to consume your fear like this.

Mind numb, body paralysed, all under his control as he shamelessly sucked more of your already broken soul. It almost felt like you were dying. Once he removed his bloody claws, your teary-eyed expression remained as he finally removed himself from you.

“Sweet dreams, my love.”

The soft breeze cooled your body as you sat on a rock, watching the waves crash into the shorelines. It felt peaceful, magical almost. The high view of the far distance between the sea, and the cliff was pretty high too.

He could sense you. He could feel the happiness radiating from you once he stepped into the dream realm. Namjoon successfully got to get rid of the angels that were guarding the entrance of their world.

He must admit that the bright colours of this place were oddly fascinating. Light pink hues dusted with white clouds and scenery? Wow, it was nothing compared to the nightmare world. Nothing.

Namjoon’s land was far more different and special. It was like an abandoned location with monsters lurking around in the shadows. Thunderstorms were constant and daily, the sky as grey as a rock.

Ever since the Lord of Demons was able to break the barrier between the two realms, it has made easier access for any creature to be able to snatch their victims while they were dreaming.

They were ruthless, and greedy and had unimaginable appearances that would make your heart stop. Even if there were Guardian Angels, protecting their realm— demons like Namjoon were always able to come through discretely.

He wondered if he were able to glitch into your world so that he could easily have you to himself. Those sleep paralysis demons were extremely lucky.

He reminisces about the first time he got to taste your soul. You wouldn't understand the emotions that rushed through his body, he felt so high around you that the moment he stepped away after decorating your body crimson—he could only think about you.

With the recent interaction of finally getting to you after a narrow escape from the Guardian Angels, Namjoon felt relieved.

It almost broke his heart when you tried to escape from his grasp that day, his claws menacingly trying to provoke a reaction out of you.

He thought you would have recalled instantly ever since the first night he devoured a bit of your soul and left you with deep gushed marks of his claim on you. He didn't want to show himself deliberately because he thought you would know. That you would recognise him.

Maybe your father hit your head a bit too hard with the metal bat in the barn after he saw the medical bills.

The next day he watched alongside you. He watched the way your father hung from a big tree, the noose around his neck was stout and it was perfectly wrapped around his neck like a present.

Namjoon noticed the dead look in your eyes and a deranged smile crept up on your face.

You and he were a match made in heaven.

Namjoon could see you from afar, the way your body relaxed in this realm… if you could only do the same in his one. He quietly approached you, silently sitting next to you as his fingertips brushed your hand.

You flinched at the subtle contact and you snapped your head, eyes scanning the unknown person.

He looked familiar, with black hair and a white shirt, you swear you've seen someone like that before.

“Who are you?” You stared at the gorgeous man in front of you, his dragon eyes alluring you.

“We met before.” His voice drifted silkily into your ears.

“We did? Uhm, what's your name?” You responded as you thought hard about where you last saw him.

“I'm Namjoon, and you're Y/N.” A pang hit your stomach, how did he know your name?

“How do you know my name?”

“Like I said, we met before.” His voice almost felt recognisable, did you actually meet this man before?

Namjoon sighed, his hand brushing your hair out of your face. “It’s such a shame you don't remember me, do I really have to remind you?”

Your lips almost twitched into a frown, you didn't like the way he was staring at you.

“Listen—”

“Didn’t Daddy teach you enough to not be afraid of monsters?”

Your eyes widened and your breath shook, “what did you just say?”

“I said didn't Daddy teach you enough to not be afraid of monsters?” Namjoon repeated the words deliberately and slowly as he smiled. Your mind went into a frenzy, and your pulse quickened. It was him, the creature that constantly grew your fear.

You get up quickly, and he does too, the next words making you sick in the stomach.

“Were the claws too much? You know I was sorry, I would never hurt you love, it's part of the process for me to live for your soul.”

You began to walk backwards, his words hammering you like a nail. After all these years, the monster that tormented you so badly that your phobia was initially created was here, right in front of you. You finally saw his face. Innocent like an angel, but a devil within the heart.

“Do you remember now? Do you remember the way I had your soul? Shit, your dad knocked you out so hard that after this many years, you finally remember me.”

You stopped in your tracks, your head turning to the side when you realised you were on the edge of a cliff. Out of nowhere, grabbing onto your shoulders, Namjoon’s voice echoed and rang in your ears.

“Don’t leave me, you can’t forget about me again.”

“I won’t leave you alone like your father did, isn’t it good riddance that he killed himself?” There’s no way he’s been with you this whole time.

He pushed you back gently, each wavering step making you sick in the stomach.

“I want to stay with you forever,” he rested his head on your shoulder and you flinched, “you're a precious person to me, you make me feel better that I can have you, in any way I want.” You jerked, trying to elude from his iron-tight grip.

“I love you Y/N, I'm hopelessly in love with you.”

His words come crashing down as you lose your step right at the end of the cliff. You screamed as you felt a hand snatch your wrist. You gripped onto Namjoon’s wrist, your life depending on it. You weren't sure why he wasn't pulling you up—

He chuckled deeply, “Stupid girl, did you forget that you're in a dream? If I let go of you right now, do you think you're going to wake up or drown?” He cruelly stared down at you as he held your wrist.

He kneeled so you were face to face, “But I think it'd be much better if we fell together, don't you think?”

Your eyes broadened at the statement, blood rushing to your head. You shook your head, you pleaded at him,

“Namjoon, wait don't do this—”

Ignoring your words, you felt him let go of you as he jumped off the cliff. You watched him fall as your back hit the icy ocean, the water already trying to engulf your throat.

You jolted awake, shuddering from the nightmare you had just faced. Your back was wet with sweat, and as you were sitting up…

Thud.

Someone grabbed your neck from behind, feeling invisible hands wrapped around your throat. Your head hit the pillow again as you struggled to get up. He was holding you down, there's no way he came like this without a dream.

You claw at your neck, shutting your eyes when you suddenly see yourself back in the ocean. You could feel the water getting into your lungs, and someone had gripped your ankle. You saw Namjoon pulling you deeper and deeper into the abyss as you cried for help, words muffled by the water.

You opened your eyes and they started to blur. Panic grew as your heart pumped, feeling the dreaded emotion you never wanted to experience again. You couldn't breathe, it was like your oxygen was being sucked away.

You wriggled your body to grab anything and your hands stretched to whatever was on the nightstand. You couldn't see but your hands tapped on the lamp that was facing your way, and a ray of light burst.

Within a second, the feeling of invisible hands disappeared and you rolled over, choking as you threw up… water. Lots of water.

You groaned weakly as you heaved your breaths. The door to your bedroom was wide open and the hallway was extremely dark. You needed to get out. You shakily looked through the drawers and found a small torch. Turning it on you left your room to look for your cat, calling his name.

“Max! Max, where are you—”

You came to a halt, and your knees almost buckled.

“Isn’t he adorable?” His voice made your bottom lip quiver. You shook your head, tears rushing to your eyes. You couldn't believe this, there he was, sitting on your couch next to your cat. Namjoon turned to look at you and his eyes were black, a murderous intent glinted from the look on his face.

“You can't run away from me, ever.”

In the blink of an eye, he’s gone and silence filled up the whole house. Max then hissed as his eyes darted behind your shoulder. Your heart sank when you realised who he was hissing at.

An external force threw you back to your room, causing you to shriek. Your back hit the wall, knocking the breath out of you. The door slammed shut and you staggered in pain and your eyes flickered to the lamp. A hushed whisper attained your ear as you heard a crack and the light died out.

It was too dark in your room, and you luckily had the torch in your hand. You tried to open the door but it wouldn't budge. What about the windows? You rush over to the other side of the room, and your hands draw the curtain open only to come to a sight with no window. You almost drop your torch as you bite your lip.

It was just a solid wall.

“No—fuck, why—” Your voice croaked as you slammed your fist against the wall. Soon you realised why the house was so dark and why the lamp broke. Does he hate light? The thought lingered on your mind till you heard a shuffle from across the room. You swayed your torch to the side and held your breath as there was nothing there.

A low growl could be heard from under the bed as you shone the light there. All of the things you placed to block the gap were gone. Impossible, fuck your mind was going crazy. The light on your torch began to blink repeatedly, and you smacked the torch a couple of times.

“No, no no, don't die.” You breathed a sigh of relief as you managed to keep the light until it flickered one last time. Your breath affixed as there was complete darkness, and you gulped.

Screech.

Warm tears sprang free from the corner of your eyes and you quivered in place.

He was going to get you, he was going to get you, he was going to get you.

Maybe you should check the door again, just in case. Even before you could react, Namjoon’s lengthy, black claw snatched onto your ankle, yanking you in fast.

Your screams echoed as you disappeared the moment you were dragged underneath the bed. Your eyes opened to an unknown place, but it was still dark. Your body ached with every movement you tried to muster.

Namjoon appeared in front of you, his demeanour frightening you as he used his claws to turn your head to the side. A dim yellow light glinted in the dark ahead of you and you couldn't believe what you were witnessing.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Did you check the bed? I think I saw a boy my age last night.”

A small laugh vibrated from your father’s throat as he crouched down at your request. He got back up, caressing your cheek.

“Come on sweetie, didn't Daddy teach you enough to not be afraid of monsters?”

Click.

The lights turned off and the door closed shut. It was dark again.

Namjoon shifted around as you felt him lay down next to you, wrapping one arm around your waist tightly and the other still holding your face in place. He could feel your heart pounding furiously as his claw began to recreate the same process when he had you for the first time.

Your mind started to go fuzzy and your body went numb and his claw crawled closer to your mouth.

Namjoon whispered into your ear, and his heart grew at the sight of finally having you to himself, “You know, you shouldn’t fear the monsters that are under your bed, you should fear those that hide under your pillow and crawl into your head.”

#The Monster Under the Bed #namjoon smut #bts yandere #namjoon x reader #yandere x reader #yandere namjoon #namjoon x you #yandere nightmare demon x fem! reader #yandere writing #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #bts smut

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missmarveledsblog · 2 months ago

Text

Not just a flower child huh ? ( Logan Howlett x reader ) part 6

summary : After the discovery her parents are alive and constantly trying to get her brother bring her to them logan figure it time she got out of the mansion to explore more than the ground of the school while he thinks of feelings that been growing like the flowers she grew

warnings : none weirdly enough , logans a big softly in this and scotts bike is " borrowed " but i think the series needed a fluffy part for once. grammatical errors also not proofread .

previous part

Her parent alive and kicking to make it worst they were closer than she originally thought which was dead . Her brother always spoke of them in a past tense and well in away they were dead to him and to an extent to her as well but she had question , she yearned for answers that they only had . From little information she could extract from her brother which honestly was getting blood from a stone on the subject but what she did learn was they were well off living in a nice area where all the other rich people living it lavishly which was probably from the money they gotten . the price of her childhood gave them she was always curious to see the price tag that was attached to her suffering.

“ why won’t you bring me” she asked seemed like she was a broken record the same words on repeat since she found out and seem her brother were on the same record.

“ because nothing good will come from it “ piotr sighed . “ you are not ready malyshka” he tried being gentle , tried to get her to understand where he was coming from .

“ don’t call me that i’m not baby , i should decide if i’m ready it my answers not yours “ she huffed .

“ you don’t think i want answer why i had to think i failed you , i couldn’t protect you i want answers but we are not ready little one” he patted her head only for her to glare.

“ i am ready it’s not like they could hurt me more” she rolled her eyes .

“ they are colder than before “ he pointed it out.

“ i can set them on fire warm their hearts” she shrugged.

“ i am protecting you by not bring you there not them , i didn’t before but now i am whether you like it or not “ that hurt and finality in his voice that stop her pushing further it made her storm off with one word coming out of her mouth .

“ suka” .

Logan in all his years which was a lot of living , he’d never been this way it was a strong sense that ran throughout his body warming the cold metal of his skeleton if it was possible. Intrigued by the woman who was so fierce , so strong and yet so soft and vulnerable . it was scary and amazing all in once not that he would admit that outloud .

Even now she was storming around probably giving out about her brother but he couldn’t tell seeing when she got like that well it wasn’t in english she spoke .

“You know she gonna catch on to you gawking at her” scott voice startling him from the train of thought or more so infatuation he found himself stuck in .

“ not gawking , checking to see if she ok don’t need a jungle of vines on the ground there” he shrugged .

“ so that isn’t drool on your cheek or are you actually more animal then man” .

“Fuck off and what did i tell you about sneaking up on me” he growled .

“ nothing because i never have , too busy with the heart eyes it cute really” scott smiled only for jean to slap him only for logan well to head exactly where they knew he would.

“ least now he’ll finally stop looking at you like that” it was almost relief in the mans tone as he spoke .

“ no he never looked at me like that” jeans head shook as she watched the man she well had a complicated relationship with a start looking at someone with something more. Whatever thought he felt for jean he was actually feeling for y/n , jean just hoped he would accept it and see he was worthy of something more in his life then all this.

“ whats got you storming holes through the grass , you know hot wheels takes pride in his garden “ he called making her pacing halt.

“ well if he and my brother would just help me out and took bride in letting me see my parents well” she growled .

“ it’s pride with a p … look maybe it for the best parents are overrated” .

“ americans always think that” she rolled her eyes.

“ well i’m canadian “ he chuckled confusing her more.

“ it’s not like i’m looking for a happy family , i .. i just want answers like what makes a person wake up one morning think oh lets sell the child and live happy in america” she looked down at the ground.

“ easy their assholes , selfish assholes and they call mutants monsters yet people discard or sell their offspring like it’s nothing” .

“ well i wasn’t nothing i came with price tag “ she flopped on the ground it was everything and nothing all in once .

“ look sweetheart people like that only care for themselves not the people around them even if it is their own kids , you are worth more than anything they could of gotten “ he sat beside her not caring at the looks he was getting in the distance because he was slowly getting use to them seemed to happen a lot since she came to the mansion .

“ you are good guy but i’m not giving up on this “ she watched the sky above it wasn’t as beautiful as the night scare but it was beautiful in it own way .

“ i’m not a good guy . good guys get taken home to mom and pop and well men like me are flirted with “ he laughed dryly remembering it as clearly when those words where spoken to him .

“ if mine didn’t sell me i would totally introduce you to them “ she laughed . “ you are good man even though you pretend your not “ she smiled up at him .

“ you must be getting cabin fever how about we take a trip” he stood up abruptly .

“ are we allowed to do that?” she asked almost hushed like whisper.

“ it not a prison bub and i’m not bringing you to your parents but maybe getting out of here will help” he held his hand out watching and waiting , hoping she would take it.

“ lets go “ she smiled as he pulled her up .

Almost cat like as the two walked into the garage she seen the jet for first time since well she was unconscious when they found her. She never been in this part before which was weird but yet she stood in awe at all the vehicles . the only one she been in other than the jet was a windowless van with a hood on her head, she could hear the world pass bye but she never got to see it hell since coming to this place she almost forgot there was a world. The two stopped and her eyes looked down to see a motorcycle sitting then up to see logan coming at her with a contraption in his hand.

“ i don’t like hoods” she stood back .

“ its not a hood look you can see out here , you don’t have a metal dome like your brother so you need to wear it , trust me” he explained as she stood as he lowered it over her head it wasn’t heavy like she thought it would be and she could actually see out of the little slot like he said. In all that her heart was beating so fast she felt like it was going to come out of her chest. He’d never been so close , so much so she could see the extent of the hazel color of his eyes or the scruff that was starting to grow on his face.

“ you sit here and hold on , ok like good now no need to be scared “ he smirked as he felt her presence on his back and his claw coming to the ignition bring the bike to life . “ here hands here” he smiled pulling them to his waist kicking the stand and heading off. He felt her grip tighten as her fingers bunch up on his shirt.

“ this isn’t you bike is it?” she asked as they were driving out the school gates .

“ more shared custody “ he laughed.

“ has anyone seen y/n we had another argument” piotr asked .

“ anyone seen my bike” scott asked almost a second later causing jean and ororo to share knowing smile knowing exactly that both were with the same man .

“Both are safe with logan “ charles spoke up.

“ it might do her good to get out see there is more than just the school take her mind off it all she is here with just the thoughts of it all a distraction is what she needs” charles looked between the men .

“ what about my bike “ scott whined.

“ also safe probably more safer with y/n on it” storm smirked .

“ he needs To atleast use the keys before he breaks it” scott Hid the small smile on his face.

The world was beautiful , it was almost magical all the greenery she passed by the wind on her skin as she took it all it , soaked It up Like a sponge Then the transition To the city it was almost like something out of a movie or pages in a book . The different contrast From greenery to the tall building almost Like they were in the clouds .

All different colors and shapes , so many People walking going about their day . All the different scents hit Her nose some amazing , some Ok and some She wished never graced her nostrils . Then it was obvious to the man that was currently in front of her , the feeling of his shirt at Tips of her fingers , the scent she Slowly got excited to smell each night while she sat or was walking to the kitchen. She didn't realize Lost in the feeling of Well everything , her hands gliding Along logans tshirt , comforting Motions Yet it was doing anything but such . Only for the bike to go faster and the feeling Her hand grabbing The material tightly Once more.

He enjoyed the closeness , the feeling of her touch on him , her chest laying Against his Back it was good , too good he didn't realize he Pulled the accelerator as hard As he did but then again it worked in his Favor too having her more Close to him . She was special he couldn't deny it And couldn't deny he felt something More than friendship with the woman . He wasn’t shy if he could he would tell her not a problem , it wasn't the time she was going Through the other side of a life of hell so instead of it all he would help her as much as he could . Build A friendship he Was happy with that for now and meant It . She first person not to see him as a project , subject to examine Or something to play with when life got a little boring . Although they were good friends now at start it was exactly how jean made him Feel .

The bike pulled to a stop she hopped Off looking around making him chuckle.

“ here you'll see it better without this” he chuckled Taking the helmet off her head . Her eyes looking up At the big gate . it was what she remembered well from the print of it from her grandmothers album . she always said when she was older every landmark in that book she was a going to see for herself . Now here she stood at one of those landmarked moments in her grandmothers album . the same exact place only in color and not in the print she was looking with her own eyes it was a surreal moment. Something that felt so far removed and yet it was happening in real time . she could help the smile that over took face it was probably biggest smile logan seen on her face that was for sure . another surprise how energetic she was almost bouncing from foot to foot to even get start and yet she stay in one part til logan got close once he did she put her hand in his and pulled him forward eager to explore they place she only heard of in a stories . not once did her grip on his hand pulled away even when she was looking at statues and getting him to read the signs she couldn’t . her eyes wide and curious watching people pass by or dogs on their leashes she almost hid , she forgot all this existed it was a bittersweet thing to being free was relearning the things that existed animals , people and places. Even ducks and local park life was so foreign to her mind and yet she knew what they were but it was like it was imaginary in away . some parts reminded her of the mansion she wondered if this park was where charles got inspiration . He watched , talked her through everything frankly he was torn between sad and thinking the reactions were adorable . small things that were almost a luxury to her where as he and many people in the park or even mansion . all the things that usually didn’t really get a second thought and now he realized he was kinda grateful to experience it all again . then she froze completely her brows arched like she was trying to figure out something til the first time she let go of his hand and walked ahead almost running leading him to follow. She went to the bushes and disappeared and reappeared before he could even react to what was happening.

“ you know you can’t take that home” he chuckled as she looked up and little fluffball in her hands .

“Why not he’s alone , isn’t that what the school is for” her head tilted” she smiled looking down. “ i already named him logan meet bub” she beamed holding the kitten out poor thing was in a rough shape almost resembling her when he first saw her in the cage and yet a little cute. “ i will deal with professor man ” she shrugged taking his hand again .

“ oh this i will want to see” he chuckled following after her slightly disappointed til she took his hand again .

“ can we come back here” she asked softly .

“ yeah we can come back anytime you want sweetheart” `he smiled instantly he knew there and then she was the one for him .

" he can't say no to bub" she giggled as the kitten nuzzled into her arm.

" i call you bub though " logan smirked .

" i like sweetheart more" she smirked walked a head pulling him behind her .

part 7

taglist : @oscarissac2099 @ayamenimthiriel @mega-kittyglitter-1

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ravenmichaelisstuff · 2 years ago

Text

"Better late than never" part 8

Soap was aware of how much work is on Ghost’s shoulders, the man never gets a break. If he is not commanding a mission on which soldiers have to depend on his decisions, death being a repercussion of even the smallest mistake he could make. Then, he has to put up with recruits at training which is usually a shit show of inexperienced firearm usage and Ghost’s screaming and cursing. On top of that, he had a shit ton of paper works.

Since Soap figured out that he can actually help him with that, he had been doing it more frequently. Often staying late in Ghost’s room to fill out things he needed help with. Ghost never asked for his help, and neither did he say thank you. But Soap knew that he appreciated the help and maybe even his company because halfway through the work Ghost would ask if Johnny wants him to make coffee and they were also spending time together after they were done. There was always a plate of cookies on the desk for Soap to munch on- the cookies were there only when he was around.

Soap loved those cookies, but whenever he asked what brand they were the other men would say that he bought them in the canteen. Which had to be total bullshit since the ones sold there tasted of nothing but cardboard. Soap was certain that Ghost was straight up gatekeeping the brand- which was hilarious to him. But that day was the day he will finally get the brand's name.

“It seems we ur done fur today, Lt.” Soap exclaimed, putting the last document into a file and then stretching his hands above his head. He looked at the empty plate, only crumbs left after he devoured the cookies. “So… the cookies-”

“I told you I got them in the canteen. You sound like a broken record” Ghost cut in.

“No, na ye didn’t ye liar! Those are one of the best food I had and believe me I checked th’ canteen. They have only two brands! Both taste stale!” Ghost just crossed his arms “Ghost with all due respect ye can’t keep this one thing a secret. We speak aboot cookies, nae nuclear codes.”

“Biscuits, not cookies.”

“Oh, go 'n' bile yer heid!” They sat in silence for a second, then Soap eyed the trash bin. “I will go thro’ yer trash to find the packaging.”

“No, you won’t, Soap”

The sergeant stood up.

“Sergeant…” Ghost warned, but Soap really enjoyed those biscuits. He bend over the bin, ready to inspect it. “Soap, don’t.”

“Ye won’t stop me, I just have to make sure there isn’t anything I don’t wanna stick mah hand in.”

“God give me strength.” Ghost whispered to himself. “You won’t find anything, there is no box, Johnny.” He sounded exasperated.

“Did ye pumpin' burned it or whit?”

“Wha- of course not! I am not you, you pyromaniac.”

“Then- No way!” Soap looked at him with big eyes. Ghost groaned already knowing what was coming. “Ye baked them!?”

“What if? Do you want to comment on it?” Ghost remembered well how everyone usually reacted to this information. They would say it was not a thing for men like him, for men at all. His previous team would burst out laughing if he told them. Of course, he had more faith in 141, in Johnny but his father's words stuck to him like glue. ‘Kitchen is a woman’s place, no wonder you are such a brat. You can’t even be a proper man.’ He would say whenever young Simon would be helping his mother with baking.

Ghost knew it was not true, of course, he did. But words like that stuck, especially when heard at a young age. Especially when followed by a ‘punishment’.

Ghost didn’t notice when Soap sat again in his chair.

“Oh, ye bet I am going to comment on it. You are keeping those skills from us when all of us could be eating those delights!” Soap was smiling brightly at Ghost, simply happy to get to know something new about his friend. “You make amazing cookies- sorry. Biscuits.” The Scot mocked him and punched his shoulder playfully.

And how could he think that would get any other reaction from Johnny? Ghost blushed under the mask, not ready for the compliment.

“When do ye bake them? How? Where?”

Ghost fidgeted with the aglet of his hoodie’s strings. “When I don’t get a full night of sleep- which is often. I snuck into the kitchen, nobody will stop me past midnight. I keep the ingredients here so nobody takes them.” He explained.

“Huh.” Soap chuckled. “No one in the right mind takes things from your shelf.”

“Yeah, but custard powder would look weird, wouldn’t it? Besides you literally take my milk every morning.”

Soap smirked. “I am not in the right mind.”

Ghost’s eyes wrinkled in a smile and he shook his head. “Just… don’t go gossiping about it,”

“Will you be making me more?” He raised his eyebrows.

Ghost hummed agreeing.

“We’ve got ourselves a deal, sir.” The sergeant pretended to zip his mouth. “I will have to steal th’ recipe from ye one day and sell it to mah ma’”

Ghost looked at the clock- it was already late. Could they?

“I can teach you now.” He proposed. “If you want.”

Soap was already standing. “Stupid question.”

It was so nice to see someone excited about something he likes. Soap often shares about his hobbies and he is happy to listen. He himself is rather reserved about his interests, so opening up and seeing someone so excited about it? If Ghost was someone else he would hug the Scot.

***

“So what are we making chef?” Soap clapped his hands, leaning on the counter while Ghost was preparing some bowls. Ghost looked at what they had.

“I am thinking bourbon biscuits.” Soap looked like he wanted to say something. “And no, there is no alcohol in them Johnny.”

“Pity.”

“Go wash your hand, we will make the dough first.” After they did that Soap grabbed his phone and put on some quiet chill music, he didn’t want to push their luck.

Ghost instructed Soap which dry ingredients he should be mixing first while Soap swayed side to side to the music, listening. Soap did exactly as Ghost told him, carefully measuring like he was building a bomb. Ghost said to add whole flour which would be alright if he didn’t dump it all at once in the sieve the lieutenant. A cloud of white powder covered them both.

Ghost took a deep breath and exhaled some of the powder. He could hear Soap trying to hold his laughter. He turned to scold him, but he was met with flour being blown straight at his balaclava. Soap was straight-up cackling at this point.

“Now ye are a real ghost!” He said between wheezing.

Ghost took some flour from the counter and messed Soap’s mohawk with it.

“Oi!”

They messed with each other like that for a while, when Ghost actually looked around.

“Ok, stop. Price will kill us when he walks in here tomorrow.”

Soap had to have the last word. He grabbed the base of Ghost’s mask. Ghost panicked a little- ready to push Soap away. Luckily he only pulled at it a little to suddenly let it- causing the flour to lift from it.

“We will clean up later, Lt.” He came back to swaying his hips.

Ghost let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Soap bumped their hips together, prompting Ghost to relax and sway with him while they continued.

Ghost had to bite his cheeks to not smile like an idiot.

And for Soap the biscuits were no longer the prize, seeing Simon all domestic and relaxed while speaking about all types of flour and which one is his favourite? That was priceless.

***

Task Force 141 drank their morning drink of choice with the addition of perfectly baked biscuits.

I am really happy with this one <3 I am sorry for the late update but I have less and less time. I love reading your comments and thoughts on the fic <3

Also, I thought I will mention that I have a Ko-Fi now if someone feels like buying me some coffee. I am saving for university!

#Ghost loves baking #soap loves ghost #don;t worry it's mutual #soapghost #john soap mactavish #soap mctavish #soap cod #ghost x soap #soap x ghost #cod soap #soap mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #ghost cod #bltn soapghost fic #soapghost fluff #soapghost fic

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drivinmeinsane · 8 months ago

Note

Henry: 35, 26[Luke]

Julian: 16, 18, 30, 37 & 50

Seb: 18, 20, 29, 37, 28[Henry]

K: 31, 48

I hope it's not too many.

Thank you for sending an ask! Apologies for it taking me a couple days to respond!

Responses are under the cut. Please be advised that there is mention of some heavy topics due to the nature of God Only Forgives.

Henry

26. What Henry would do if stuck in an elevator with Luke Glanton (The Place Beyond the Pines).

I can see them getting into a discussion about tattooing and art styles. Henry would definitely be interested in Luke's tattoos.

35. Their idea of a perfect day.

If he could turn time back, he really would just like to spend a day with his parents again. He would value it so much more than he had before the accident.

Julian

16. Deepest darkest secret they won’t even admit to themselves.

That he maybe he did deserve a normal life. Maybe he did deserve to have a mother that loved him and kept both of her kids safe. Maybe he did deserve to have a brother that didn’t become an abuser himself. Maybe he could even be loved after everything that’s happened to him and that he’s been pressured to do.

18. What they’d go to see a therapist about.

Everything. That man needs SO much cognitive behavioral therapy. Someone who specializes in childhood trauma is a must.

30. Sleeping habits.

He rarely sleeps. He’ll stay awake until he passes out from exhaustion in a chair, on a couch, anywhere but a bed. There are too many bad memories associated with laying on a mattress.

37. What they really think about themselves.

He thinks that he is a coward, that he’s a broken shell of a man. Julian has no hope for himself.

50. A memory they’ve blocked out.

I can imagine that Julian has repressed most of his childhood. Who wouldn’t? At a minimum, his mom was sexually abusing both him and his brother.

Sebastian

18. What they’d go to see a therapist about.

If he were to see a therapist, I think the sessions would largely end up dealing with how he handles interpersonal relationships and the view he has of himself. The sense that I got of him from the movie is that he is afraid of failure both in his career and in his relationships and is prone of molding himself into what other people want at the cost of himself.

20. Scars.

He’s got the usual scars from living. There’s the small, barely significant traces of childhood mishaps on a bicycle on his legs and elbows. On his hands are the shiny burns and finger cuts from time spent in the kitchen.

28. How Sebastian feels about Henry Letham (Stay).

I think that Seb would respect Henry as a fellow artist. They’re both struggling in their own ways.

29. Eating habits.

I think that Seb often forgets to eat. He gets so lost in music that his physical needs fall to the wayside. By the time his fingers go still on the keys of his piano, or the last record finally spins out, hours have gone by and he’s suddenly, acutely aware of his hunger and thirst for something other than jazz.

37. What they really think about themselves.

Sebastian is not as confident as he projects himself as being. I can see him viewing himself as an interloper at times.

31. If they had a tumblr what would it look like?

In my heart, K would be mostly a photography reblogger. He would primarily focus on nature and animal photography. He might reblog the occasional bit of poetry as well. It would all be a carefully curated collection of content that made him feel something.

48. Scariest moment of their life.

The day of his inception. Being deposited as a fully formed adult out of a plastic bag would have been terrifying. He knew nothing of the world and yet he was already held in contempt.

#.character ask game #.from you #stay (2005)#henry letham #only god forgives (2013)#julian thompson #la la land (2016)#sebastian wilder #blade runner 2049 #officer k #.my thoughts #.my posts

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hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform · 1 year ago

Text

Kinktober 2023 Day Nineteen

Hate Sex

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Rodolfo Parra

Rudy had been waiting for days to say something to Ghost. He’d bitten his tongue when Laswell mentioned the callsign, and lied to Alejandro when he’d said that he hadn’t heard of them either. He stayed back when he saw the dumb skull mask walking towards him across the tarmac, a bubbly, pretty new face walking by his side.

When they were all in the car, and Alejandro was introducing him, he’d tried to say something subtly, baiting Ghost in a way only he would get it. Tengo miedo de los fantasmas… and nothing. He tried again, saying that Ghost would fit in well with his mask. It got a reaction out of him, a sharp look, that still only registered Rudy as a complete stranger.

He’d given up after that. Not that he really had much choice, as the escalation in chaos that had followed their meeting had made him just keep going, keep pressing on, despite the knock on the head he’d gotten from Hassan’s men, through the sleepless nights, through Alejandro nearly losing it on Valeria when they found her again; all as they raced around to find some stupid missiles that should have never even been his problem.

After seeing Simon’s face again, Rudy knew he couldn’t let all of that come to a head without at least trying one last time. He’d slipped away from Alejandro’s explanation of the battle plans, and gotten lucky, finding Ghost in the back corner of the warehouse, leaning against one of the vans like nothing was wrong in the world.

“Are we really not going to say anything about it?”

Ghost actually looked at him with recognition now that they were alone; but it was like Rudy was a fly, buzzing in his ear. “Is this really the time?”

“There won’t be another.” Rodolfo’s face was as unreadable as Ghost’s, now that they both were hidden under one of Ghost’s masks.

“What do you want, Sergeant Major?” Ghost turned the knife he was holding over in his hand, straightening up so he stood at his full height over Rudy.

“What do I want?” Rudy scoffed, incredulous that Ghost would even ask that. “You gave me the best dick of my life, and left me behind without a word. Then you turn up here, some pretty boy hanging off your ass, and you ask me what I want?”

It was years ago, now. Rudy had gone off base for the night and fallen into some bar he couldn’t remember the name of, desperate to drown his feelings towards Alejandro. He’d downed glass after glass of… something, wondering what he had done to deserve being stuck in the deepest kind of love for a man who wouldn’t, couldn’t see him the same way, and that every day he had to see that man suffering at the hands of the woman he did love.

The man who had just run into a burning building to save him.

The server had turned him away after one too many drinks, so Rudy had stumbled out of the door to find somewhere else to go, and fallen right into Simon. Tall and mysterious, with a dumb skull mask on, Simon was in deeper than Rudy had been, in drink and issues, which is why they hadn’t spoken at all, apart from the broken moans that passed between them as Ghost held Rudy’s head down in the pillows of some hotel bed and fucked the life out of him.

“Bit of a pathetic track record, if I’m your best. You still out on your ear with whoever it is you’re pining for?”

“Of course, I am.”

“Alejandro’s still doing that to you? I can’t blame you mate, but…”

“Shut up.” Rudy glanced over his shoulder as he shuffled further between the two vans. They were still alone, this far into the warehouse.

“How is this still my problem?”

“It wasn’t ever. But, you’ve got your own sergeant now, I’ll leave you to your pretty boy.” Rudy was flushed hot now, embarrassed that he’d ever said anything. He should have kept his stupid mouth shut, then Ghost wouldn’t be chuckling at him under the mask. Rudy’s own was scant comfort, as even with it, Ghost was reading him like a book.

“Not even going to give me a goodbye present?” Ghost asked as Rudy turned away.

“You didn’t give me one.”

“You aren’t up to being a better man than me?”

Rodolfo swore under his breath, and turned back to face Ghost. The bastard was waiting to see what Rudy would do. One last chance. He had to do something to catch Ghost off guard, to leave him and his smart mouth speechless.

Rudy walked back to Ghost, leaned up and kissed him through the masks, lingering as he pulled back, before turning and walking away.

Ghost grabbed his arm.

“Ghost, let-”

“Just one?” Ghost had pushed his mask up, the scar that caught the edge of his lip twitching as he grinned. “You can do better than that.”

“Come and take it.” Rudy spat back, reaching out to grab Ghost’s tac vest, to get the knife sheathed in the side.

“How about you hold onto this one instead?” Ghost caught his hands before they got anywhere, pressing the knife he was holding into one of Rudy’s palms.

Rudy took it and closed his fingers around the handle, keeping the blade still as Ghost turned him and shoved him against the van, holding him there by shoving his body against Rudy’s back. Rudy’s hands went to the rail on the roof, one resting beneath it, the other gripping it tight as Ghost pushed Rudy’s body around to get him where he wanted.

He spread Rudy’s legs apart and pushed one of his own between them. Ghost held the back og Rudy’s neck, turning his head to one side so his face wasn’t smashed against the van when Ghost grabbed Rudy’s mask and pulled it off. One of Ghost’s hands was holding his hip, shoving a thumb inside his waistband, the other running roughly through Rodolfo’s hair before taking hold and pulling his head back so Ghost could kiss him properly.

Ghost moved fast, his tongue pushing against Rudy’s lips, impatient at how Rudy waited to slacken his jaw and let him inside. Rudy let him in when he felt Ghost’s hard cock against his ass, even through the layers of gear they were wearing, and then Ghost was gone, pulling away from the kiss and pushing Rudy’s face against the van too.

“Do you think you can be quiet? Last time you couldn’t.”

Rudy’s breath caught in his throat. “What are you going to do, gag me?”

“That was the plan, yeah.” Ghost had taken Rudy’s mask and twisted it into a bundle. “No time to do it proper, though.”

Rudy tried to twist his head away as Ghost pressed the mask against his mouth, but quickly parted his teeth and sank them into the material.

“Good boy.” Ghost’s purr almost made Rodolfo spit it straight back out. He wasn’t sure if Ghost was reading him like a book or was writing the damn thing, but he stopped worrying about it when he felt Ghost undoing his belt, pulling his body away to shove Rodolfo’s trousers down over his ass.

“Even prettier than I remember.” Ghost stroked Rudy’s ass, and chuckled when he caught the hem of Rodolfo’s shirt, pulling it up slightly. “That’s new.”

Rodolfo mumbled something around the gag, and Ghost pulled it out.

“What was that?”

“Got it with Alejandro. It’s matching.”

Ghost snickered. “Matching back tattoos? And he’s ‘not in love with you’?”

“Shut up.”

Ghost laughed and threw the mask aside. “I think I’ll keep your mouth free for now. See what other pretty things you’ll say for me.”

His hand went down, pushing Rudy’s ass open so he could find Rudy’s asshole, pressing a knuckle into it.

“Not very tight down here. Who else are you using in your free time?”

“No one.”

“Toys then?”

“Sure.” Rudy rolled his hips back into Ghost’s fingers, desperate for them to be inside of him, his own erection stuck between his body and the van.

“You ever pretend they’re Alejandro?”

“No-!” Rudy bit his lip as Ghost pushed two fingers into him at once, painful, but only for a moment. “Yes, sometimes.”

“Bet you’ve seen his dick so many times, you’ve found one that’s an exact match, haven’t you?”

“I’m not answering - you don’t get to do this to me!” Rudy was squirming under Ghost’s hands as Ghost spat down, his saliva offering a sliver of lubrication to his fingers inside Rudy’s ass as Ghost searched for the spot that would make Rudy lose it.

“But I am.” Ghost kissed Rudy’s ear, leaning their bodies closer together again so he could hear Rudy’s suppressed groans, and the gasp Rudy made when Ghost’s fingers hit his prostate.

“Fuck… you, Ghost.”

“Simon.”

“Simon. Fuck you… Simon.”

“Oh, it’s the other way around, Rudy.” Simon pulled his fingers out of Rudy’s ass. “I think I’ve got enough to be getting on with.”

Rudy had a minute to breathe as Ghost got his own dick out. Rudy tightened his grip on the knife and shifted his legs a tad wider as Ghost’s wet dick pushed against his asshole.

“You ready?”

Rudy opened his mouth and regretted it immediately as Ghost pushed his dick into him. His moan was loud, if someone heard him he was fucked, but half a second later he stopped caring, anyone could hear him, as long as Ghost would keep fucking him. If Ghost was worried about the noise, he would have to take care of it.

Ghost did, grumbling in Rudy’s ear each time he had to cover Rudy’s mouth, on top of holding him up against the van, because every thrust Ghost was making into his ass made Rudy’s knees shake, and he was only half in control of what was coming out of his mouth. Rudy finally choked down a moan on his own when Ghost pressed the head of his cock deep into him, shuffling their bodies as close together as they could get. Ghost moved his hand down, holding Rudy’s chin up as Rudy breathed in, trying to make use of the moment of respite Ghost was giving him to pull himself back together. Alejandro, all of his men were in the other room, for fucks sake… Rudy clamped his mouth shut as Ghost started moving again, but only giving him a painstakingly slow roll of his hips.

“Si…mon..” It was a half cry, as Ghost closed his hand over Rodolfo’s, the one holding the knife. He squeezed tight, the edges of the handle digging into Rudy’s hand.

“That’s what you’re doing to me, you know. Squeezing me tight, like you can’t get enough.”

Rudy knew that, he didn’t need Simon to tell him that. He just wanted the bastard to start going hard and fast again. “Simon, please…”

“You want to cum?”

“Uh huh,” Rudy swallowed as Ghost rolled his hips again, a little faster this time, the head of his cock pulsing inside of him, “ah, me, then you… I cum, then you, inside me, ple… please.”

“You should explain everything with a cock in your ass. Sound so pretty, whimpering like this.” Ghost leaned up, placing his hands next to Rudy’s. “I could listen to it all day.”

“We… don’t have, that kind of time.” Rudy got out, pushing his body back against Ghost, searching for more movement, more friction between them.

“I suppose that’s true.” Ghost was rolling his hips constantly now, no breaks in between anything, shoving Rudy closer and closer to the edge. “You ready to be loud?”

“I won’t… be.”

“I’m sure you’ll try.” Ghost was speeding up again, going back to actually fucking him, now that Rudy was so close, shoved right up to the edge by just how Ghost had talked to him.

“You’ll… take care of me. You, fuck, you’ll take care of it. I won’t, won’t… come otherwise.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Ghost said, but didn’t try and test it. He kissed Rodolfo again, silencing him, and himself too, if he even made noise when he came. The only way Rudy knew he had was by how Ghost shivered and went still, his cock still in Rudy’s ass. The kiss broke, and it was still a minute before either spoke.

“Like you remember?”

“Better.” Rodolfo sighed as he distantly heard the sound of cheers - Los Vaqueros getting ready to move out. “We should get ready too.”

“One more minute.” Ghost sank his head onto Rodolfo’s shoulder.

“Someone could see us-”

“Alejandro could see you, with another man’s cock in your ass. Maybe that’ll be the thing he needs to see to get what he’s missing.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me, Sergeant Major.”

“Simon.”

“Ghost.”

“El fantasma.”

“If that’s what you prefer.” Ghost kissed behind Rudy’s ear, and pulled away from him carefully bringing Rudy’s pants back up over his ass, lingering behind him for half a moment to fix his own pants. “Let’s not repeat this. Again.”

Rudy heard Soap and Alejandro calling for them. “I’m not making that promise.”

Ghost chuckled. “I’d be disappointed if you did.”

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readingismypurpose · 1 year ago

Text

Percy doesn’t like mirrors

inspired by @sandersgrey

Percy doesn’t like mirrors.

When he was five years old, he first heard them whispering about his eyes.

“His eyes—-“ “Too Bright.” “Strange”

He climbed up onto the sink and stared at his eyes. He tries to not look people in the eyes as much anymore.

When Gabe came, he called him ‘pretty’ and then he would swing.

Percy would go back to the mirror and try to make the purple go away, he doesn’t want to be pretty.

When the teacher again doesn’t understand and the bullying is getting worse, he goes back.

Is it his face?

He spends hours trying to get his face to look different. It never does.

He goes back and his bad luck follows again and again and Gabe keeps calling him ‘pretty’ and he doesn’tknowwhattodo!

He finds himself in front of the mirror, once again.

He can’t fix it.

He gets to camp and not even a week in, he’s ostracized because of his dad. His dad that he thought was as good as dead, his dad who abandoned his mother, his mother who is gone.

He looks like his dad.

As he looks in the mirror, never more has he wished this wasn’t true.

He goes on his first quest and freezes when Medusa talks about his resemblance to his father. He hates/loves it at the same time and he doesn’t like how it makes him feel.

Then he fights Ares after abandoning his mother, and he is full shock and pain and hurt and what just happened, what have I done?

He meets his father who has his green too green, not normal eyes and his troublemaker why do you always have to cause problems Percy smile.

Poseidon tells him that he is sorry Percy was born and Percy shatters.

Were you expecting an ‘I love you’?

Percy looks at his reflection in the water, his hands shaking, and wishes he looked more like his mother.

He didn’t look right, he was still too pretty.

Luke betrays him and his betrayal leaves a mark. Percy spends hours scrubbing the spot, as it bleeds then mends, where the scorpion stung him, but it doesn’t come off, why won’t it come off.

At least he is not pretty anymore.

He discovers that he is related to Tyson. He just was accepted only to be an outcast once again. He channels his fear into frustration.

Fear that the difference between him and Tyson isn’t that big after all.

Fear that one day he is going to look in the mirror and see one eye staring back at him.

Fear because he had forgotten that Poseidon was the father of monsters and how different is. he really?

Circe calls him ugly and Annabeth calls him dumb.

They’re not wrong.

When they finally finish the quest and Tyson is safe, Percy wonders again.

Thalia is back and Percy is stuck.

He is shockshockshock, but at the same time relief-no-hate-no-like?

He meets Nico who is bright, too bright. Was he ever this bright?

He watches as his sister abandons Nico and tells himself he won’t do the same.

“You promised!” Nico screams.

Percy is numb, he needs to do something, anything because it keeps replaying in his head.

“The stars, my lady. The stars.”

“It was the only one that he didn’t have.”

Zoe, Biana, Zoe, Biana,Zoe,BianaZoeBiana.

They kept going in his head like a broken record. He goes and he scrubs at his hands, he could have saved them, why didn’t he save them?

He notes absently that the water was healing his cuts a little slower than usual, but that’s s ok, he wanted to bleed, he deserved it.

He ignores the white strand in his hair as he looks into his eyes and thinks he can see how broken they are now.

Things speed up over the next year.

Rachel.

The Labyrinth and that made him feel sick. He stared at his brother and wondered.

The fear rolled in his stomach again.

Wrong wrongwrongwrongwrong.

Pan.

He could tell that he knew the other with the old pained eyes and him with the fractured green.

Then came Nico and Percy felt like he failed again.

I’m so sorry, Nico.

Quintus was Daedalus because of course he was.

Then came the battle, the battle of the Labyrinth, they would call it.

He truly felt mad.

He felt as people he knew and those he didn’t, kids, die and he felt himself crack a little more.

That’s when he truly learned to mourn, staring at those who had fallen, where they should have been safe, this home should have been safe.

He felt himself crack a little more.

It feels like the blood will never come off.

When Nico and his dad appear at his birthday party, he wonders.

The war is coming. The fact that they are just kids doesn’t seem to matter. It should matter.

Charlie dies and Percy is lost. It shouldn’t have happened. Why Luke?

He learns the prophecy and remembers the fates and how his fate has hung over his head for a long time.

He tries to keep moving.

Tries to not think about how that wouldn’t be so bad.

He agrees to Nico’s plan and it works, but why? Why did Nico have to betray him? He trusted him!

The war goes quickly, but not at all.

Michael, Lee, Silena, and so many others gone.

How many people did he kill? How many kids? He feels wrong wrongwrongwrong.

And Annabeth. She was stabbed for him and his world feels like it stopped.

When he fights Hyperion, something snaps in him and suddenly he has his own personal hurricane.

He pushed it out of his mind. He refused to think about it.

Finally, he’s in front of Kronos and he is forced to watch as Ethan and Luke die and somehow he couldn’t hate them anymore.

He feels his hands shaking, is it over?

He turns down the gods easily, he didn’t want their curse, he just wants parents to acknowledge their children.

After all is said and done, on his birthday, getting a girlfriend, Annabeth, was perfect.

That night though, he wake up in a cold sweat and as he threw water on his face to cool down, he couldn’t help but look in the mirror.

Scars crisscrossed his body and his eyes were shattered.

Percy closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then went to bed.

Percy doesn’t like mirrors.

#pjo #percy jackson #percyjackson #percy #percy jackon and the olympians #inspired by sandersgrey #random #percy is not ok #Percy doesn’t like mirrors

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oathkeeperoxas · 7 months ago

Note

For the guessing game... hm. "Weight".

There's 37 instances of "weight" in part one (for the uninitiated this fic is broken up into three parts because google docs couldn't handle her swag in just one document), so here's the first, which is in chapter 1

So Ice saunters into the house just after sunrise, still smelling like the cheerful beta he’d talked into taking him home, senses alert. He can smell Slider and only Slider, so either his RIO scored and came back before Ice, or he came home alone last night. Slider’s in the kitchen reading the paper with a cup of coffee by his elbow, and he rolls his eyes as Ice struts into the room. “Yeah, yeah,” Slider groans. “Rub it in.” He’s not wearing his aviators, and his eyes aren’t too bloodshot, so he’s probably not too hungover. Ice isn’t either – he takes his vodka on the rocks for a reason. They’re flying jets today, and that’s a bitch to do with a pounding head. Ice hasn’t puked in his jet ever, and he isn’t interested in breaking that record. “She was fun,” Ice reports. “Chipper missed out.” “You started that?” Slider asks. “I thought I heard something going on.” “I ended it,” Ice corrects. “And now everyone knows who’s really on top,” Slider grins. “Nice one, Kazansky.” This isn’t the first time they’ve pulled this routine. Slider had stuck around him last night, introducing him properly to Maverick and the few others from their class that he knew and Ice didn’t, until Ice had flicked his fingers to let him know that he was fine to fly solo. If all the others only ever saw him with a taller than God alpha at his back, they’d start to think things that Ice didn’t want them to think. There’d be enough of Slider backing him during class and in the air – Ice had to go it alone on the ground. He’s dependent on no one, and won’t let anyone think otherwise. “They’re all fairly well behaved,” Ice comments, pouring himself the remnants of the coffee that linger in the coffee pot and grabbing the weight next to it on the counter. He needs to get his reps in anywhere he can manage them. “Better than Squad 213, at least.”

wip guessing game ask meme

#i think everything is going to be taken from the first few chapters #icemav #well not in this snippet but overall the fic is #ice #slider #slider is a good friend i believe it down to my toes #tg #my writing #anyway if you want to trip me up yall are going to have to try farrr harder than that #lets get into part two at least LMFAO

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nonsensefromtheabyss · 4 months ago

Text

W.I.P Wednesday 1: The List

I don’t really know how big of a deal WIP Wednesday is on here, but it’s when my writing club used to be so I’ve decided I might as well start again! Maybe not every Wednesday, but I think it might be nice to share my thoughts instead of cannibalising them quietly. This week, I am doing that project list I mentioned before: Behold! Here are all the works I have on the schedule/drawing board at the moment.

HAZBIN HOTEL.

A Broken Record On Repeat In A Crowded Bar: a story about a brutally injured Alastor refusing to rely on his friends and toying with the boundaries of his deal. It also looks at everyone else’s perspectives post-extermination and features a lot of Charlie struggling with where she and her dreams stand in the new status quo. Quite dark, mostly character driven, will be 13 chapters long when done.

Still working on Chapter 5. Have been working on Chapter 5 for longer than I ever thought possible. Unfortunately my hours at work have increased which, along with a few changes in my personal life, means I’ve had less project time recently. It is hovering somewhere around 2/3s completed and I’m still hopeful to get it out this month. Overall, the whole project is sitting at around 60,000 words if I tally up all the chapter documents—not bad for an idea that started as a fucking oneshot!

I’ve also finally got a table that I can paint at, so I’m doing a painting of the Final Confrontation. No idea why; I sneezed and the sketch appeared. I have absolutely no faith that it’ll be finished by the time I upload that chapter, but sometimes we do these things for the journey. And the joy of painting. I’ve not had anywhere to paint for a year.

PROFESSOR LAYTON.

When The Dust Settles and Professor Layton And The Master’s Last Painting: post Unwound Future Sycamore and Layton team up to solve a case where the people have vanished from a bunch of paintings. At the same time, Layton is trying to uncover what his estranged brother has been doing for the past three years. Mystery elements, psychological elements, a complete disregard for reality; slightly darker than the game series, but only in the sense that I describe the violence. The prologue and first part of what’s planned to be a trilogy.

I actually don’t know if anyone here knows about these works; I wasn’t on tumblr when I started them. And I’ve been gone for… quite some time…

Basically, I got halfway through Chapter 15 and got really, really stuck—partly due to other things happening in my life at the time, and partly because it… wasn’t feeling right. To try and refresh myself with how we’d gotten to that point in the story, I read back through all my published Layton work and… was not inspired. I actually realised how much I disliked my early writing; I wasn’t using scenes or characters effectively, the threads for the mystery as a whole were either too obscure or flat out not there—I was displeased. Particularly because this is a project I get really excited about when I think about my plans for the series; all my work deserves my best effort, but this one in particular has a lot of potential to me that I don’t feel like I captured in my initial writings. Time to start fresh! Take another swing at it! I have a different method of working now, and I feel certain that this time I can capture my vision.

So, I finished my dissertation and cleared my first ever Big Project, and I had already started on the big rewrite… and then I fell down a hole into Hazbin Hotel. I cannot stress enough that Broken Record was supposed to be a oneshot. Finishing these two works is next on my list, this time I swear it. I already have the story divided up into chapter documents, and some have been fully reworked, It Is Happening. You still probably won’t see anything for a while yet, but if you’re one of my readers from before or on the off chance you’re curious now, feel free to pop up to chat about it!

RIDDLE SCHOOL.

Unnamed Project. I’m so fucking back. Some very lovely people said they’d be interested in seeing more from me in my Riddle V.I.Z.ion universe, and I accidentally fell in love with these characters all over again while completing that project. Yall convinced me and I am so very happy about that!

The work will be a collection of moments from the aliens’ lives, jumping around in time between past and present within the timeline and history I’ve given them. More detail into how they work together, what their home planet is like, what they actually got up to as V.I.Z.ion members, stuff like that! Basically an excuse for me to write more for them. At the minute, I have their timelines (collective and individual) plotted out in a document, and have selected sections of history I think would be interesting to explore, so I would say a rough plot is hesitantly in place!

Because it’s not going to be precisely linear (given that we already know where they end up, I don’t think there’s anything to be gained from sticking to the laws of time!) I’m thinking I can be a bit more flexible with myself in how I work on it. Which means I might try and fit it in around other projects as a little treat to refresh myself. If I think of it like Short Stories In A Shared Universe instead of Another Book, it feels manageable that I might add to it without disrupting my workflow, which means it hopefully won’t take another seven years (always a good thing!)

I’m also doing more art for Riddle V.I.Z.ion as well, fuck it. I had a vision (hah!) I saw the shipyard and the miserable campfire. I’ve never painted space before, but this seems a good enough reason to try. (I’ve painted the woods many, Many times.)

So, if you’re interested in this project while it’s still in the early stages, or you’ve read Riddle V.I.Z.ion and were interested in more, feel free to drop by and chat! Currently I’m stuck on a name; Puzzle Pieces has a certain appeal, but I think that would also be nice as a series title, and I think I’d like to keep the ‘Riddle’ naming theme for the main instalments. Riddle Classified? Riddle Planet? Riddle Logbook? Unauthorised Access feels nice in my head, but again with the lack of ‘Riddle’ continuity. Hm. I’ll keep at it. It’s the annoying moment where I realise that ‘Riddle V.I.Z.ion’ itself would have been the perfect title for this too!

DON’T HUG ME I’M SCARED.

Three Friends, Three Foes, Three Names They’ll Never Know: a series of drabbles about terrible things happening to the Three Guys. Very graphic and violent. Horror elements with a lot of gore.

Believe it or not, I actually have three more chapters I always meant to add to that story that just got pushed around in favour of other things. Always meant to get back around and finish them; as you can see, they’re on The List!

So, in short order, we have ‘The Yellow Guy Chapter (a nightmare about stairs)’, ‘The Bigger Boys Chapter (bestie you forgot about The Cycle)’, and the ‘Lore Chapter (contains nothing of use to anyone, is Not A Theory.)’ They’re all about 1/3 done; i dip into them whenever I feel like rewatching the series or writing psychological and physical horror without any embellishments. Not much to declare on this front but they will be done at some point.

RESIDENT EVIL: VILLAGE.

The Monsters You Told Your Children About: all the characters except for Mother Miranda are brought back to life by The Duke. Rose is declared a bio weapon by the BSAA and is taken into their custody. Thus begins a road trip where Ethan, with encouragement from The Duke, convinces the four most dangerous monsters he knows to help him rescue his baby. This story is basically fucked up found family with the mold acting as a Get Along shirt for everyone involved and The Duke eating popcorn.

Contrary to popular belief, this story isn’t dead! Much like Ethan himself, it is merely in a perpetual state of rotting, and that hasn’t kept it from coming back to kick me in the ass whenever I feel inspired to look at it again. Original projection length was stupidly optimistic—this thing needs to be more than 8 chapters long or it’s just going to be nonsense. It needs some structural revision in its planning department, which is why it went cold in the first place; few things more demoralising than realising you’ve lost inspiration and your basic building-blocks suck.

So! I’m keeping the same concept and ideas and just… reworking the elements to flow better as a narrative instead of just being a collection of things I immediately wanted coming out of the game. Of course, this should have been step one all those years ago, but I rather got ahead of myself.

CUPHEAD.

Untitled project. This was a curve ball to me. Divine inspiration to work out the perfect plot… for something I had wanted to write about in 2017. The devil works in mysterious ways and apparently She wants me to write more fic.

Following the Devil’s retreat, all the souls on the Inkwell Isles are released, and the Casino collapses into dust and rubble. The Casino, which I remind you, belongs once again to its original owner, the newly freed and magicless King Dice, who is not able to counter that degree of property damage. Mostly because even lawyers hate him.

Left with nothing to his name but his soul, King Dice, followed by his loyal court, embarks on a solemn quest: to punch his old boss in the fucking face.

(Featuring: bullying Saltbaker into opening a portal to Hell, Cagney running the woodland mafia, Spirited Away soul trains, and potion brewing with Elder Kettle (he’s being held at gun point.) Not show compliant, I have never watched it.)

I’m not thinking about this one too hard. I’m hoping if I stop looking at it, it’ll go away (it won’t.)

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officialleehadan · 3 months ago

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From the Reaches

Hello darlings! Today's story was brought to you by Clown! Darling, thank you so much for all your support!

Prompt: Death’s Disciple

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Although Lux Abiit was without question a miracle worker, he was still seventeen, and that meant, given his rank, he sometimes needed minding. Most often, that task fell to His Grace. Cruor’s record for being able to chase their young Master of Engines out of the engine rooms long enough to do anything else was better than anyone's. Today, however, the boy was in the ship hangers, and seemed to be eagerly dismantling one of the smaller fighters.

“Dare I ask what you’re doing to that fighter?” Chian asked, mostly amused by the boy who had quickly become not just a favorite of the grand Templar, but also of himself, and Orrig. It was nearly impossible not to like the boy, especially when he started working his miracles. Chian didn’t have the first idea what Abiit was doing to the fighter, but he trusted Abiit to do it correctly. “It seems to be in rather a large number of pieces.”

“There’s a problem with the shield generator,” Abiit said, head-and-shoulders deep into the fighter’s shell. He muttered a curse and stuck a hand out of the fighter. His fingers twisted into a complicated sign, and a tool Chian couldn’t possibly name flew into his hand. Newly armed, he wiggled further into the fighter. There was a horrible sound of metal rending, the whole fighter glowed with magic, and then it fell into several pieces. Abiit, grease-stained but triumphant, sat up from the rubble, holding what Chian presumed was the shield generator. “The power flow to it isn’t steady, and it should be. I have to rebuild this little girl before she’ll be ready for action again.”

“Are they all like that?”

“Probably, but once I fix her, I’ll get the other mechanics trained and we’ll get the rest fixed up.”

“So easily?”

“I mean, they don’t talk like the Shrine does, but you can hear them if you listen,” Abiit said with a very fond pat for the fighter’s broken shell around him. “Don’t worry, little girl. We’ll get you flying again. Captain, were you looking for me?”

“I was,” Chian said and offered a hand up to Abiit, who let him pull him to his feet. He wasn’t a tall young man, although Chian suspected he was still growing. The nutrition of several solid meals a day would help him catch up after years of scarce food on Tertrain. “I was checking on our intake paperwork, and I realized I have next to nothing of your history in our records.”

“Oh, it’s just because I don’t know much,” Abiit said, and reluctantly set the shield generator aside to give Chian his full attention. “My parents died in Tertrain’s last civil war. I’d tell you their names if I could, but I was four. I don’t remember them. I was in an orphanage for a little while, then I was on the streets until I learned magic. Then I became a spell-mechanic. Nothing special, really.”

Nothing special. The words that always seemed to linger around Abiit whenever he did anything particularly remarkable.

In some ways, the explanation that Abiit had no family, and grew up on the streets, explained a great deal about how he faced the world. Chian remembered meeting the boy, dusty and tousled, and so astonishingly capable. He didn’t have a single notion of how to behave on the ship though, which now made sense. Tertrain wasn’t known for having a strong Temple presence, and Charos was a small, wild city.

“We need to do a full medical workup for you as well,” Chian told him, which made Abiit wrinkle his nose in protest. “Don’t bother arguing. You can come with me, or I’ll tell His Grace about it.”

“He won’t make me go,” Abiit said, convincing absolutely nobody. They both knew how seriously His Grace took Abiit’s health. “Fine, fine, you don’t have to drag me.”

“For the best,” Chian said amiably as he led the way to the in-ship transport. The entered the small waiting room and Chian pressed the button to call the transport. He opened his mouth to continue the conversation, but Abiit paused suddenly, still all over, and studiously causal at the same time. “Problem?”

“Someone is stalking us,” Abiit said, quiet and still smiling, but now with an air of immediate violence about him that should surprise Chian, and somehow didn’t. “You, actually. They spotted you in the hanger and have been getting closer since.”

“Interesting,” Chian said and considered his options. It was not unusual for Templars to challenge for rank and promotion by murder was very traditional. If someone challenged him properly, and killed him, they would take his position and rank. Of course, knowing what he knew about the Shrine and about His Grace, they might not hold the position for long. “Hostile?”

“Imagine so. Want me to handle it?”

The casual offer was one that should terrify Chian. He knew what Abiit could do when the mood took him. Instead, he patted the boy’s shoulder fondly.

“No,” he said, and allowed just a little of his own dangerous nature show. He might not enjoy bloodshed the way His Grace, or even Orrig did, but he was more than able to hold his own. “When you fought in the officer’s meeting, His Grace told us that some lessons must be taught by a specific person.”

“I didn’t hear that.”

“You were occupied,” Chian said amiably, but alerted now, he was on guard, and he caught a glimpse of the person, a man he thought, who was moving in on them. “Should they be brave enough to challenge me for captaincy, you must not interfere.”

“And if they try to shoot you in the back?” Abiit asked, apparently willing to accept Chian’s ability to protect himself. “What then?”

“That,” Chian said and allowed himself a self-satisfied smile. “is harder than it may seem. I’ve been in the Temple and the captain of this ship for ten years. There have been many attempts on my life.”

“And here you stand,” Abiit said and allowed his predatory air fade under his usual sunny cheer, but Chian could still see it, just a little. The young spell-mechanic was nowhere near off-guard. “I’ll leave it to you then, but we’re ready to help if you want us.”

“We?” Chian had a sudden feeling he knew who we might be, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it out loud. “Who is we?”

“Have you forgotten so quickly?” Abiit asked with a smile that hid more danger than Chian really wanted to consider too closely. He brushed his hand over the wall’s polished surface as if he patted the shoulder of a friend. Chian found himself smiling and mirrored the gesture. The wall warmed under his fingers, too fast to be heat from his own skin. “She’s always looking out for you, but she’ll let you fight your own battles if you don’t want her to interfere.”

“We’ll see what happens,” Chian said, and patted the wall fondly. The Shrine hummed in soft harmony with the approaching transport. “You aren’t the only one this ship from the Reaches.”

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Death's Disciple (FULL COLLECTION)

Destiny Wakes

Crafter’s Hands (Subscriber Only!)

Signs of Magic

Captain Conundrum (Subscriber Only!)

Engine Song

Interlude of Kin

Family Introduction (Subscriber Only!)

Political Play

Over Peppers

Like a Bell