#i need to be put down like a rabid dog after that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wraithdance · 3 months ago

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Stray Dogs | GHOAP x Reader

Synopsis: You never had a problem with strays, but you should have been wary of the rabid dogs begging to be leashed.

Note: AFAB!Reader, No phys. description but reader has background story, no y/n use or gender terms for reader, Reader is LGBTQ (Bi/Pan) w/ Avoidant attachment issues. Content warning: Mature | domestic partner violence and harassment, avoidant attachment traits, mentions of sickness/vomiting, sexually explicit content, mentions of p in v sex, alcohol consumption/misuse & physical violence.

Chapter One: Soap Comes Over

Foxy won’t stop calling you.

The first attempt to reach you after the breakup started two weeks after dead silence. You’d been in the middle of a presentation at work when the phone rang. Thankfully you had the foresight to keep the ringer on silent, but you’d been checking your email when her contact lights up the screen.

You freeze.

“Do you need to get that?” Your boss Marc had interrupted the poor intern going over the quarter projections. His startling gray eyes bore into you as he looks down his nose. He raises a thick brow when you forget to answer, it’s mocking and layered.

It pulls you out of your stupor long enough to put your cell on do not disturb. You flip the offending object face down on the table before giving Marc an apologetic half smile.

“No sir, sorry about that, it can wait.”

He looks at you for a beat longer than polite then signals the nervous intern to go on.

From the corner of your eye you can see your assistant Eric cutting eyes at you from beside you at the conference table. You meet his look head on with a deadpan expression of your own. It doesn’t deter him from mouthing ‘what the hell?’

You ignore him.

It’s not like you had an answer yourself. You’d been dealing with the impending episode that came with a doomed relationship as best you could. So, you didn’t know why she was calling you when she’d made it clear she wanted nothing to do with you. Your mind was unfocused throughout the rest of the meeting.

You accept the call that comes in when you’re walking to your office.

“Why wouldn’t you pick up the fucking phone?!” She screams into your ear as soon as the call connects. It makes you pause in your trek.

What the hell?

“Fox-" you clear your throat and cover the slip up. “Taylor, I’m at work. I can’t just pick up whenever, you called me during an important meet-”

She screams into the receiver loud enough you need to bring the speaker away from your ear. Margarita from accounting gives you a startled look as she passes, having heard.

Shit.

You flash your coworker a disarming smile and placing the phone at the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“Hi Margs, are we still on for happy hour next week?”

Margarita laughs, swatting you with the manila folder in her hand.

“Of course someone’s got to keep you from climbing onto the tabletops.” she winks.

That causes you to wince in embarrassment. The after effects of the impromptu tequila shot contest during the last happy hour had not been your finest moment. (You couldn’t turn down a double dog dare though, you weren’t a coward.)

“Okay, I’ll see you there Margs, I have to wrap up this call.” You return her retreating wave and press the phone back to your ear.

You frown in confusion.

“Foxy?” A glance at the screen shows you that she’d hung up. Strange. You don’t have to wonder what happened for long before the texts start flooding in.

> you never fucking cared about me did you.

You know it’s meant to be a statement not a question. You’re typing a response when the next texts come in rapid succession.

> How have you already moved on so soon??? you’re such a fucking bitch!! >I hate you >I HATE YOU

You’d barely made it to a restroom before vomiting.

You meet your dead eyes in the executive bathroom mirror, rinsing cold water in your mouth and spitting into the ornate sink. Your mascara is smudged from the tears prickling the corner of your lashes. Worse is the full body shaking and gut churning panic that takes over your limbs.

Double shit.

You text Marc that you’d be working from home the rest of the day. He asks why and you cite a family emergency taking priority. You’re not sure if he believes you but you chance it nonetheless.

You answer Foxy’s calls the first days after. Reasoning with her on the validity of her claims of you never having cared for her is met with more screaming and hysterical crying on her end.

When you finally block her you’re riddled with guilt and anxiety so intense it zings through you. Foxy starts calling from an unknown number after that.

You spend the rest of the day in bed with your phone off. Your muscles hurt from staying in the fetal position, you’re sweating profusely under the comforter despite the freezing temperatures in your flat. It’s almost a blessing when you lose track of time and falter in and out of restless sleep.

Until Duckie calls your work phone when you don’t respond about her dinner thing to meet her new boyfriend. You’d done your best to skirt around the topic but your usually laissez-faire friend is irritated at your noncommittal answers.

She snaps at you and you know it’s warranted. You’d already had a talk about pushing past your anxieties and being more forthcoming with her.

Still you panic and hang up on her.

This time you don’t make it to the bathroom when you’re suddenly sick. Your left leg is on fire where you’d landed on it in your hurry to get out of bed. You’re frantically scrubbing puke out of your good throw rug on the bathroom floor, waiting for Duckie to pick up your Video call.

Her ocean blue glasses fill up the screen before she sits back enough for you to see her scowling round face. You’re sobbing before she can say a word.

“She won’t stop fucking calling me!”

Duckie blinks in confusion, anger momentarily forgotten.

“What? Darling I can barely understand you, who won’t stop calling?”

“Foxy!” You cry out, “She’s called me 48 times since this morning, I haven’t slept through the night since last Thursday and there’s puke on my new rug!”

Duckie comes over and helps you change your phone number.

Your teeth chatter on the line with the overly cheery agent at your phone company. Duckie rubs soothing circles on your trembling back, a frown unnatural on her usually smiling face. It takes several hours of promises and consuming everything Duckie sets in front of you before she’s willing to leave you alone again.

“Darling, call me if anything else happens okay? I’m serious. I’m still pissed at you for not telling me she was harassing you like that. You really need to talk to me.”

You’d like to object to that.

The threads of self loathing already tighten around your body with the fact that you needed her support already. You don’t tell her that though. You kiss her cheeks and follow her to the door. Swearing you’d call her the second anything else happened and confirm the day you’d be free for dinner.

The second the door closes behind her the energy saps out of your body. You slink to the floor in your foyer in a boneless heap.

Triple shit.

Foxy starts showing up to your house.

She hadn’t taken being ignored very well and had banged on your door, demanding you come out and speak to her.

You’d finally opened the door when your neighbor texted that they would be calling the police if you didn’t get her under control. Foxy launched at you the second you came into view.

Your cheek still sports from the slap she’d managed to half connect before you shifted your face.

You’d managed to push her out of your home and lock the door to your apartment, dodging her clawed fingers as best you could. She kicked and screamed obscenities at the door while you’d called the police yourself. Unsurprisingly by the time the police showed up she’d gone. You write a report nonetheless.

After another week you’d been hopeful she’d gotten the hint and would leave you alone for good. Your sweet neighbor Mrs. Henderly had stopped you on the way to work whispering that a woman had been digging through your planter.

The planter where you kept your spare key.

Despite having the locks changed you’re still paranoid. It’s why you’re currently in a bar near your home, sipping on ginger ale and watching a fight break out.

After some thought you come to the conclusion that Johnny MacTavish is like a rooster.

You watch him puff out his chest to strut around like the biggest cock in the yard in the overcrowded space. From where you’re sitting at the bar you can tell the restraint he has over his muscles, it’s in his carefully controlled motions and showy posturing. His choice of hair is just a laughable coincidence when you think about it.

If Duckie were here you’d know she’d agree with you.

She’d nervously giggle and make some terrible joke about wondering if he was overcompensating that you’d scoff at. Your gaze runs down the firm expanse of his broad shoulders in his blank t-shirt and his jean covered thighs. You take a sip of your drink and shudder. He was the size of a tank, it would be a cruel twist of fate for him to be a lousy fuck.

Still, watching him beat a man to a pulp with single minded focus makes you think of your grandfather's prized cock fighting rooster. The bird was the center of a terrible memory and you hadn’t thought about him or your late maternal grandfather in years. Until now, in the dingy bar nearly a decade later.

Johnny circles his downed prey like a bloodthirsty game fowl, the drunken crowd jeers in excitement while a waitress screams for help stopping the brawl.

There’s a startling unhinged quality to Johnny’s eyes as he lays a succession of blows on the man who’d called you a cunt for denying his advances.

The drunk had been loud and getting more and more aggressive with you when you told him to leave you alone. You’d been at your breaking point preparing to smash your glass in his face when Johnny's right hook came out of nowhere to connect to the bastard's face.

Johnny's pupils are blown out and his smile bright as he takes fists and returns them with triple the fervor. Occasionally his glacial blue eyes bore into yours, making sure that you’re still watching.

A knight, waging war in your honor.

You’d never been a damsel before, it’s something you mull over as you watch the bartender and other patrons wrestle Johnny from atop the now unconscious man on the floor.

You close your tab and follow where they manhandle him outside.

Johnny’s knuckles are raw and split. He doesn’t seem to notice or care as he takes out a cigarette and attempts to ignite it with a cheap lighter. When the blood from his knuckles causes his thumb to slip on the spark wheel he curses into the night. You step forward from your place just inside the bar door and he watches your approach with lidded interest.

Taking the lighter from his hands you wipe it on the side of your black jeans, before holding the lighter to his mouth.

He was definitely far from a knight, you think, observing him from under your lashes. He stares back openly without blinking as he puffs the cigarette to fire. His focus makes your heart beat thunderously in your chest.

“Do ye smoke?” He tilts the cigarette in an offer. You shake your head with a smile.

“No, bad habit.”

He laughs, it’s humorless, layered with something more. “Ar’nt most things?”

You make a noncommittal sound, not really caring to consider it. You’re content to watch him, watch you. It’s a game of chicken you’re used to playing with most men, testing their resolve. Johnny doesn’t flinch or look away and you like that.

The eye contact is broken by the sound of the bar door opening. The noise from inside spills out in the night as two men struggle to carry the limp form between them. The man Johnny pummeled into a pulp is barely conscious, stumbling on his unsteady feet.

His head lolls to the side and you watch the eye that isn’t blackened widen when he takes in Johnny and you.

‘Fockin’ bastard I’m gonna fockin’ kill ya!” He slurs out.

The man thrashes, kicking his feet and all in an attempt to escape the two hand carry. Johnny just laughs meanly puffing on the cigarette without a fuck to give.

“I’m gonna fuck your slag too, see how she likes taking real cock you Irish fuck!”

The crazed look in Johnny's eyes is back as he flicks the still smoking cigarette into the bushes.

“Ya mam is the only one who wants a turn on yer howlin’ cock!” Johnny barks out darkly “c’mere I’ll black your other eye for ya, ye fuckin’ bawbag!”

You’re smiling when you place a hand on his chest stopping him from charging forward.

No, he’s definitely not a knight at all.

But you won’t be satisfied until you’ve ridden his cock nonetheless.

He sees it in your expression when he looks at you. A muscle in his jaw jumps when his eyes dart between your parted mouth and the man who’d insulted you both, weighing out the desire to war or kiss it better.

You know he chooses the latter when he cups a hand on the back of your neck, tilting your head back to force your face close to his.

“What’s yer name hen?”

You tell him. He gives you his (you know it, you’ve been watching him at the bar since you'd come in.) He tells you to call him Soap if you want, you raise a brow at that but shrug. It wasn’t your business you’ll never see him again after tonight.

“Okay, my place or yours?”

You have to pass the bruised and drunken man to get to the path of your apartment. Despite his previous bravado he flinches when Johnny crowds him, silently daring him to say a word.

“I’m nae Irish, I’m Scottish ya daft fucker. I see ya even pissin’ distance near here again and I’ll put ye down like a fuckin’ dog.”

One of the other men puts a hand out to Johnny's chest to put some distance between the two. Johnny brushes it off with a sneer but takes the hand you offer him. He follows you silently through the darkened night and you laugh to yourself.

Definitely not a knight at all.

Johnny takes up space in your apartment like he pays bills in it. His big legs spread out on the couch, one hand tapping rhythmically on his bouncing thigh while the other holds your remote with your floral throw pillow tucked under his arm. He's clicking through channels with half attention.

Your mouth twitches when he lands on Planet Earth with a grunt. While he’s engrossed in the mating instincts of primates you top off your drinks with ice, juice for you and leftover wine for Johnny.

He pulls you into his lap when you go to hand him his cup, you allow it with a breathy laugh. Johnny takes a sip of the red wine before wrinkling his nose and taking a sniff of your cup instead.

“Are ye trying to get me drunk bonnie? Why’re ye nae drinking too?”

“I don't drink anymore.” you reply with a shrug that’s meant to be unceremonious.

You hadn’t had a drink since Duckie threatened you with an intervention after finding you blacked out one too many days in a row. Your breakup with your ex-girlfriend had opened up old wounds already, but the constant harassment stressed you out enough.

Regrettably, you’d exhausted all of your therapy options, so drinking was the only thing you could think of to self medicate. Now, you didn’t have anything harder than a mocktail. Simple as that.

“Here we can share mine.”

You take quick sips of your juice and hand the cup to Johnny, taking his mug in hand and placing it on the coffee table. He thanks you and gulps some down and passing the cup back to you. This goes on for a while until the cup is empty. Johnny palms your ass through your jeans when you set the empty glass aside. You roll your hips against his crotch slowly, bracing your hands on his knees to rock and swirl into his hardening cock with added pressure.

He groans and slides his big palms up to your waist gripping tight and thrusting up into your covered core.

“Och, hen keep movin’ like that and I’ll give ye somethin’ to sit on.” You snort out a laugh.

That’s the point.

You look at the time displayed on the screensaver of the television. It was 3am on a Saturday. Which means you had about seven hours until your support group and the rest of the day to prepare for Duckie’s ‘meet the man’ dinner. So, technically you had less than 2 hours to milk Johnny of all the cum in his body and send him on his way so you could sleep.

Tight turn around but you’ve worked with less.

With that in mind you climb out of Johnny’s lap standing in front of him, ignoring his protests. He doesn’t pout for long as he watches you lift your shirt and toss it aside. His blue eyes glaze over with want as you reach for the buttons of your jeans and slide them down your thighs along with your panties. He makes a guttural noise between a groan and a curse when you unhook your bra last, dropping it to the floor beside you.

The poor man is conflicted between looking between your legs at your soaked thighs and making eyes at your hardening nipples with the cute jewelry that decorates them. He finally settles on palming his cock under his pants and reaching out to palm your belly moving to cup your cunt. You stop him, tapping your foot against his shoe (which makes you scrunch your nose up, he should have taken them off at the door.)

“Pretty boy, eyes up here and take your clothes off.”

Leaning back on the couch, Johnny scoffs with petulant indignation, “Ye dinnae have to sweeten me up just to ask to see my prick hen.”

That gets you laughing outright, “Not trying to sweeten you up, you are very pretty, baby.”

You reach over to card your fingers through his short mohawk and down the sides, scratching his scalp as you go. “Besides, If you didn’t want me to see your ‘prick’ you wouldn’t be here now would you?”

Johnny’s ears turn flame red as he leans back to accept more of your gentle stroking, his dark lashes flutter concealing the vibrant blue of his eyes from view. It’s cute. You’d been so sure he’d be the type to preen under compliments but his boyish embarrassment and openness is refreshing.

“C’mere bonnie thing let me get a look at ye.”

You aren’t expecting it when he wraps his big hands around the curve of your ass, swinging your body down to the couch beneath him in seconds.

Your muscles lock up under the sudden shift and the feel of his heavy mass pressed against your body. His arms cage around your head and his face is close for you to smell the lingering scent of cigarette smoke and his cologne. It brings memories of another time and place you fight to keep buried.

The effort makes your stomach churn violently.

Your hands press against the wall of Johnny’s chest frantically pushing him back, struggling to stay calm. Johnny sees the unconcealed panic on your face and the shallow breaths you take in. He immediately lifts off to lean back on his haunches on the couch cushions, giving you space. Still, you scoot as far back as you can to the other end of the couch to try and steady your racing heartbeat. The sudden whiplash of memories and fear makes you light headed.

“Lass are ye a’right?"

You blink trying to clear the sudden brain fog.

A wide eyes Johnny rubs soothing hands on the sides of your calves watching your face for any sign of discomfort. Your throat is tight and you miss the opportunity to answer him in a timely fashion. It causes him to reach a hand up to your face which you flinch from, his dark brows furrow. The sudden concern in his expression makes the palms of your hand sweat in discomfort.

Fuck.

“Are ye a’right?” Johnny asks again, this time not allowing you to back away from his touch. His calloused hands leave warmth in their wake as he rubs down your arm.

“Yes I’m sorry, I’m good.” You wave him off not looking at him directly. “I just prefer to be on top. I should have said something earlier.”

“Hen are ye sure? Ye look like ye were having a momen- creepin’ Jesus!” Johnny jerks when you dart forward to reach inside his pants and stroke his softening cock back to life.

You didn’t have time for him to ask daunting questions that would freak you out to answer. You had approximately -you glance at the clock- an hour and sixteen minutes to ride this pony and put him out to pasture.

You were on a mission so you bring out the big guns.

“I’m good Johnny, I just got a little overwhelmed, I promise. I still want you if you want me.” You pout, pumping his rigid cock with one hand and trailing a manicured finger down his bicep with the other (why the hell they were so large, only the universe knows). The angle is a bit awkward but it successfully overwhelms his senses by the way his breathing catches.

You’re able to shimmy on to your knees to press chaste kisses along his jawline and throat, watching his eyes cloud over completely.

“You still want me Johnny?” You whisper in his ear.

Johnny answers your teasing by grasping the back of your neck and pressing your mouth open with a demanding kiss. His tongue tastes sweet with the remnants of the juice, he shudders when you suck on his tongue pulling back and forth like you were taking his cock. He groans deep and loud in your mouth when you squeeze the base of his cock in a tight grip.

“Fuck- aye I want ye hen,

Hook. Line. Sinker.

You try not to smile when he pushes you back to hurry and discard his clothing in record time. He was pretty everywhere it seemed. Down to the thick patch of dark hair on his belly that transitioned to his trimmed pubes. His tanned body is riddled with scars that add to the roguish appeal that caught your eyes in the bar.

You let out an appreciative sound when his cock finally comes into view. He was girthy and uncut, the veins along his shaft prominent in a way that made your mouth water. The head leaked pre-cum out of the pinked tip like a faucet.

“Ye like what you see I ken?” Johnny smiles wolfishly, showing teeth.

“Yeah,” you snort, “that’s not even a question, I like it a lot.”

He stops you from reaching for him again with a hand to your wrist. His eyes are searching and you know he’s going to ask if you were lying about being okay, so you beat him to the punch.

“I’m okay, I swear I just panicked a little, it's no big deal. If you want to make it up to me you can give me a kiss right here.” You take his hand and guide it to your drenched cunt, spreading his fingers to glide through the slick from your entrance to your clit, as you roll your hips.

‘Fuck’ you both whisper in tandem. Johnny doesn’t waste another minute and pushes you back against the couch, diving to lap at your folds with a flat tongue.

Your head lays back on the arm of the couch and you sigh. Another look at the clock shows you have at least a full hour left. It’s not ideal, but you think you can work with it. With that in mind you stroke Johnny’s head in encouragement, whispering how good he made you feel and gasping at the sensations pulsating through you.

Finally, the muscles that had been taut for weeks relaxed. This was good. You’ll get the itch scratched after an orgasm or two and blissfully slumbering in no time.

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#idc if this is good or not tbh #as long as its done smfh #stray dogs #simon ghost riley #wraith king #mr clean #john soap mactavish

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ruruvxz · 3 months ago

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“10:36”

Girlfriend!Kim Minji x Cheater!Reader

ft. Marsh Danielle

↳ synopsis: L/N Y/N, named one of the sweetest girl in the planet finally rots her girlfriend’s heart. Any sane person would feel sad, maybe even a little regretful and accommodating for all their wrong doings. Not Y/N though, she's kept it in for a long time, her heart has gone bitter and cold, and she knows what she’s doing is wrong, but who can blame such a sweetly wretched heart.

↳ cw: cheating, commitment issues, morally gray reader, codependency, Minji is lovesick and blind, hurt no comfort, reader has implied chronic depression, victim blaming, swearing, pure angst

↳ word count: 4.6k

a/n: read this Karina fic where she kept cheating on me… which gave me an striking idea, mentally ill, unapologetic, rude and overall not a good person, Reader! anyways you don’t need to listen to 10:36 but I highly recommend listening to it since it’s such a great song. And yes I am personally beefing with Y/N even if I wrote them (fluff ver. apple cider)

Your eyes looming to the TV, not paying attention to whatever was playing. I mean you couldn't concentrate due to your phone blowing up, notification after notification of all your failed hookups barking at your phone like a rabid pack of dogs. God, do people know when to shut up nowadays? It was aggravating how much they pleaded for closure, and who were they to demand that from you? You're the sweet innocent Y/N L/N after all.

Before you even got to text them back some bullshit excuse your eyes darted to the front from the sudden click. You carefully examined the door pushing it open at an agonizingly slow pace, sighing as your eyes met Minji's as she slid her way inside, her eyes bagging with how deeply exhausted she was. She meets your blank stare with a meek smile, pushing down any emotions built inside of you after your recent rendezvous with another lover, you put on your best fictitious grin.

"Baby!" You cheered, getting up from the leather couch, the same one Minji gifted you when you both first moved in with one another. Quickening your pace as you ran towards her, wrapping your arms around her neck, Minji was left letting out a coy smile before kissing your cheek. Usually, she would be greeted by another empty living room with the kitchen light dimly lighting the surrounding vicinity, it was depressing but she had a 9/5 and you took the night shift. (Or that's what you would tell her.)

Needless to say, seeing your bright smile was more than pleasant, her overworked eyes lightening up as you continued to hug her. "Ah, bug, you're still here?" She smiled hugging you tighter, grasping you almost as if you were to disappear at any moment in time. As you both stand in each other's embrace your mind couldn't help but let your mind drift to someone else.

"Fuck, I wish Danielle was here with me..."

You knew how terrible it was to imagine someone else's grasp, especially since you were imagining your girlfriend's best friend of all people... And to be frank, there was no other valid explanation for feeling this way. But you felt so devoid of any strong emotion, it truly made you feel disgusted with yourself but what could you do?

Minji softly grabbed a piece of your hair to stroke before you eventually led her over to the couch to spend some quality time with her. I mean, that's the least you could do after what you went off doing while she wasn't home.

Danielle messaged you late last night wondering if she could plan an outing for the next day, and you (not-so) hesitantly agreed to her offer. It was a terrible thing to do since you've already learned about her immature crush on you, but it wouldn't lead to anything, right? Nevertheless, you still decided to get lunch together, and she brought you to your favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant. (Not exactly, in reality, it was something you despised because it was the only restaurant Minji would bring you time and time again. Danielle, and many others, were under the assumption it was somewhere you LOVED going to. And who could blame them, you would always post photos promoting the establishment whilst hiding out Minji from any photo.)

It was a fusion restaurant, but the overall atmosphere was an American-style family diner. The ones you'd see in 80's sitcoms that Minji begged you to watch with you, it was tacky, but they stayed engraved in your head. Danielle would drag you to the table nearest to the window to get the clearest view of the sky, but you'd much rather sit in the booth in the corner, hidden away from the world. Of course, of how accommodating Danielle was she gave in to your request, despite that hiccup the day "outing" continued as scheduled. Eating her meal she ordered claims that the burgers are "The best she's ever had since moving from Australia" but in reality, you think it's nothing special.

You ordered the same thing you usually do, carnitas tacos messily plated on a plastic dish, it usually tasted so bland though somehow sharing it with her tasted so much better than eating it with anyone else. You hated to admit it because you already had someone waiting for you at home but she made the world stop for a bit, made staying still for a moment seem so... bearable. For once in your pathetic existence you felt like you understood something and just wanted to sit down and talk.

"Mmm, Y/N—it's really good!" Danielle spoke up, parts of her burger decorated the corners of her face as she munched. Laughing at her childlike behavior you wipe the excess crumbs off her mouth, noticing her slight blush plaster across her face as you pull back to speak.

"Mhm?" You replied turned off your phone and flipped it over on the table giving her your full attention. Her voice was just too adorable to ignore. You knew you found yourself despicable for giving her more attention than you had given Minji for the past few months. But you couldn't stop yourself, it was so lonely and you just needed a warm body to hold, just until your girlfriend could come back to you.

She nodded her head hurriedly before shoving another fry into her mouth before she spoke once more. "Yup!! Look open your mouth" She'd pick up the fries and line it up up to your mouth, cautiously leaving your mouth agape before she shoved the fries into your mouth. It surprised you how fast she inserted it into your mouth you started aggressively coughing before she apologized profusely.

After your little outbreak, you start laughing uncontrollably at how concerned she looked, she whacked your head from the other side of the table while you continued to laugh. But you didn't have the heart to tell her that the fries she force-fed you tasted like generic McDonald's fries but, with that face, could you say anything? Danielle looked so captivating, an allure you hadn't felt in months, and before you knew it it was already 8:14. Minji comes back at 9 and you shouldn't risk coming home late AGAIN.

"Ah, I'm so sorry Dani, it's already so late, I need to be home at 9." You commented cutting her story off short about how she met up with a coworker of hers during some mindless shopping spree. She looked understanding but disappointed nevertheless as she was hoping she could spend more time with you even if it was in this cramped restaurant.

You looked into her eyes once more before getting up to take your leave, she looked stumped but quickly regained her composure as an idea flashed across her mind. "Okay! I'll drop you off at the train station then!" She stood up and let her hand out for you to grab. Once you stood up she interlocked your fingers together, your heart beating out of your chest as she did. What person would react like this to a friend, let alone someone who was in a relationship, but god were you one sick bastard to reason with yourself? You knew you'd done worse with others so why was this any different?

After minutes of slow walking and talking mindlessly with one another you finally arrived at the station, it was a tad disappointing but you knew it had to end soon. Climbing up the stairs your hands continued to lock in with one another, you felt her suddenly yank away. Turning back to see what happened you noticed one of her heels came off, but coincidentally your train just arrived.

"Oh Y/N go on, I'll get on the other one, it's just another 10 minutes!" She defensively said. Instead of listening to her you ran down the stairs and grabbed her heels, even if you were struggling a little bit to get back up you were happy to help her. You handed her back her heel as you heard the train plow through once more, the screeching metal tracks lingering as it drove off.

Danielle looked down at you as you handed her the heel with a worried face, she looked so bothered but you reassured her. "Even if the train leaves, it's worth it, it's worth waiting for you" You smiled before grabbing her hand once more and dragging her back up to the platform, the light-dark enough to cover her red face.

"Y/N" She laughed as she dropped her bag and hugged you tightly, her embrace was soft and loving you didn't want to leave it. (Nor do you deserve such an affectionate interaction.) You broke the hug before she led you to a, presumably empty, seating area, the sunlight dropping and sinking. While you sat there together Danielle was content sitting down with you in complete silence as it meant being by your side.

"I'm sorry for making you wait." She sighed awkwardly trying to break the silence you created, her body immediately straightened as you rested your head on her shoulder. Her breath hitched as you grabbed her warm hands, the nightfall being significantly colder.

"It's fine that we have to wait, I love you." You trailed off, your mind not proceeding with the bullshit you slurred out of your mouth. It was a force of habit, no matter if it was Danielle or Minji, those stupid strings of words haunted your every moment. (Maybe if you were a little cautious, if you learned to shut your mouth maybe you wouldn't have to be calling people at night while Minji was in deep sleep, explaining in slurred words "I have this thing where I— I can't be by myself— but look...")

The memory of what you accidentally slipped up to Danielle came back to haunt you, why would you ever say that, but regardless you couldn't break your facade now, not with Minji resting quietly on your lap. "How was your day love" You twirled her hair as she dozed off by your touch, she was so soft and delicate. It reminded you of how she'd do the same after a long day, her hands caressing your head like a dog. She was silent but that's who she was. As you ran your hand through her jet-black hair, you were all over he, losing yourself, all before she snapped you out of your daze to speak. "It was okay, but great now that you're with me." She smiled underneath you, she reached her hand above to your face to caress your mellow cheeks, and your heart ached as she did so.

"How was yours, my dear?" She lifted her head dragging you a bit down to intertwine your lips tenderly, as she pulled back and laid back down on your thighs you felt your teeth sink into your lips. It was a force of habit but thank god she hadn't noticed as her head was locked into the TV, you felt yourself about to throw up at the idea of telling her what you did. As usual, you tried to play off what happened this afternoon like nothing happened.

Your hands shook as you continued to play with her hair wondering what lies you would spit through your teeth. "Mmm, nothing much I hung out with some friends then went back home to wait for my wonderful girlfriend." You beamed smiling hopelessly to not break the persons you've created.

"Friends, who? I'd love to meet them." She chuckled, turning her head back to meet your gaze, your hands slowly lifting up and away from her head. You rested them on the armrest, coughing at the thought of her finding you were out and about with her best friends who she didn't even know you talked to.

"Just Dani! She's asked me if she wanted to get lunch with her." You answered honestly, if you hadn't you knew you'd just dig yourself a deeper hole and lead to another heated argument, where you'd end up running off to sleep the night somewhere else.

"Oh." She scoffed, the realization of her best friend and her girlfriend being closer than she'd expected hurt her feelings a little more than it originally should've.

"What's wrong with that." You bite back, annoyed about how sassy she was becoming day by day, as if you were doing something— someone, she wasn't aware of.

"It's just... didn't know you were close with her like that." She raised her body from my lap and sat properly looking me in the eye, clearly annoyed by the situation. (To be fair, as hard as you tried to be sneaky with your late-night affairs, by claiming you had a night shift, she picked up on your inconsistencies fairly quickly. How you'd leave either before she arrived or after she slept became more and more oddly suspicious. Or how you'd often slip your phone away to your back pocket whenever she came closer to you. It was all messing with her brain and the sudden "connection" you had with Danielle made her more and more suspicious.)

"I guess but isn't, Dani—Danielle one of your closest friends, yet you talk shit like this about her?" You retorted, trying to hide your offense terribly at her statement, of course, she didn't mean any harm with what she said but it felt as if she was insinuating something. Something you didn't like. You took off your gaze from hers as you rested your head on your palm and raised the volume of the TV to drown her out.

Rightfully annoyed at your reaction she raised her voice just a little bit. "Well sorry, I'm sorry I feel uncomfortable by the fact you chose to get lunch with my friend, instead of your girlfriend!" She rolled her eyes and folded her arms, her frustration was enough to cause global warming. You bite your tongue once more, you didn't want to say anything you regretted but you couldn't just let her take a jab at you without any conviction.

"I mean, she didn't do anything to you? Yet you're being so aggressive." You replied as you grabbed the remote with your free hand to skim through the channels, every new show being broadcast made you even more aggravated. How could there be nothing good showing? You mashed the next button again and again as you heard her open her mouth once more.

"That's not what I meant it's just, for the past few months you've cared about going out with me? Sorry for feeling like that's so terrible!" She scorned as you still didn't pay any attention to her, continuing to skim through the shows on air today. You pushed your tongue to the inside corner of your cheek before you asserted another retort.

"Maybe if you weren't always so defensive and angry I would hang out with you" You laugh sarcastically under your breath annoyed, and you finally landed on Law & Order. It was Minji's comfort show but you couldn't care less about what she liked right now, all you wanted her to do was pipe down and calm down. She clenched her jaw at how dismissive and disrespectful you were, the fact you weren't even looking at Minji added more salt to the wounds.

She grabbed your shoulder yanking you hard enough to look at her, you paid her one single glance before swatting her hand away from my shoulder. She looked dumbfounded, as for the first time in her life she finally raised her voice, this time with real intention to get off on you. "What the fuck— Y/N! What is up with you recently??"

Oh, she's testing you right now, your blood pressure has risen significantly and you felt it harder to focus on what they were saying in the show. Finally giving in you pushed your head to lock into her enraged state. "You know what's fucking 'up with me' it's your attitude? I can't even hang out with my friends anymore?"

Minji was most definitely fed up at this point as she stared back at you, clenching her fist, stopping her from saying something atrocious. "Oh no you DEFINITELY can, you know what you can't do? Fucking leave your girlfriend in the middle of the night saying you have a night shift and leave me alone in our bed!" She spat out as she stood up trying to get that notion into your thick skull.

"I'd rather be in someone else's embrace than be with yours! FUCK, you're so fucking suffocating!" You shouted back, quickly regretting what you said, realizing a little too late that you had released a bit more information than you were trying to let on. But before you could take it back and apologize she was already standing over you, her hands covering her mouth.

Minji’s jaw unclenched, processing every word that came out of your mouth. "What." Her voice sounded shaky, she tried her hardest to sound stern but you knew her long enough to know it was just a facade. Her face turned into someone who had just been told their loved one died, completely and utterly in disbelief.

It hurt seeing Minji so hurt, but it felt so good to get that out of your chest, she's been suffocating you for a year now, she should know where you’re coming from. Honestly, you hadn’t planned on staying for fairly long but after moving in with her it became harder to leave. "Fuck. It’s just—" You stopped before continuing “I wanna love you but I'm scared so I rather pretend” You stood up and turned your body away from her, you didn't want to look at her at all. If you did, maybe you’d just run back by her side and then the cycle continues once more.

She covered her face between her palms, and looked up at the ceiling, just praying she'd wake up from this sick and twisted dream. "Y/N, please tell me. Are you?" She mumbled underneath her hands, but enough for me to tell what she said.

"Am I, what? Am I cheating on you?" You turned back at her with a disgusted face, not at her, but at yourself, you couldn’t fathom how you’d do something like this. After all, you experienced the same thing. You felt sick to your stomach but you knew she should already puzzle the answer together, yet she's still trying to ask.

"Just answer the fucking question" Her voice bubbling up with rage, after all the years of committing herself to you, you turn your back and do this? Oh how badly she wanted to make your life miserable after this. But a part of her didn't want to ask this question, she wanted, somehow, someway, you would turn a full 180 and tell her this was all some sick twisted joke.

“Fuck you Y/N… truly, fuck you— you kept me like a secret but I kept you like a fucking oath.” She spat out, grabbing out to you, the weight of your actions felt like a knife digging itself deeper into your heart. You were too cowardly to look at her, let alone answer her question. For someone so confident about cheating on her, you know stood in front of her unwilling to face the consequences.

"I—“ You cut yourself off, you did feel awful as you stared into her fiery gaze, but what was the point she already knew? "I’m so sorry.” You blurted out, it honestly came out as a statement then it did an apology, and by the looks of it, she looked even more infuriated.

"FUCK Y/N, PLEASE JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION!" She screamed at you, making you jump a little, but with your broken ego, you weren’t going to take that, with crossed arms you announced your wholehearted answer.

"Yeah, I did, and it wasn’t with Danielle. Don’t worry about her…" You bitterly bit back trying to get it in through to her, you were truly so despised at this moment, but to save face you preached some half-assed excuse.

"You know Minji, it isn’t my fault— You're selfish, how do you not get it. For as long as I remember you've only ever thought about yourself." You said, leaving Minji to stand in utter anguish at the shit you were spewing. How could she be the selfish one? You bit back your tongue before realizing this was probably the only moment to let out everything you’ve built up over your whole relationship.

"I reach for you and you’re not there, I'm so fucking numb but you don't care. A part of me feels for you, but it hurts, it hurts so much." Her stare etching deeper into your mind, she didn’t bite back, but you could see through her fuming portrayal that tears were pooling from her eyes.

"enlighten me, my dear, why am I still here? Why did you even— why did you even pick me? You don't talk to me, you never want to talk about anything and you’re always just with Hanni. I know you're confused and hurt, but when I needed a warm body to hold, you were never there. And when you where you wanted too much from me— I didn’t know how I could give you everything" You inched closer to her wiping the tears off her face, she placed her hand on top of yours. Maybe this was the only emotionally intimate time you both had in months. As you rested her hand on her plush cheeks, you took a moment to appreciate her beauty one last time, she was gorgeous, undoubtedly, gorgeous.

(You couldn’t admit to yourself that this reminded you about the first time you met, your eyes locked with hers as she stumbled out of another stress-inducing meeting. She looked so out of it so you graciously offered her your apple cider, under the pretense that it was apple juice. You examined her as you were a bit surprised a young girl like her was working this late into the night, it was already 10:36. You looked back at her while stopping to laugh loudly as her eyes winced while chugging down your drink. She looked so annoyed but somewhat happy she met you, her drowsy eyes lighting up as you offered to get her an actual drink at a nearby bar. You had a bad habit of analyzing her, her hair smelt like a sweet fruit punch, and her smile was so infectious.

You remember holding her face just like this as you led her back to her apartment, she looked dazed out of her mind as you pulled her on her leather couch to rest. In a drunken state, she commented on how she liked your hair and pulled you down into her lap to play with it. You couldn’t stop your face from heating up but she didn’t happen to notice, she looked down at you and complimented the jacket you wore. So after that you always wore it, and even at this exact moment, you were wearing that stupid jacket once more.)

"I didn’t— as much as I hate you right now maybe we just got lost in translation… no— maybe I asked for too much." She weakly smiled biting back her rage while staring deeply at you.

"I've done the math there's no solution, we'll never last, I’m so sorry Minji, there’s just no universe where I can see our happy ending." Minji closed her eyes, biting her lips, maybe she already lost you, or maybe she never had you in the beginning, but all she knew this would be your last moments holding each other. Your heart constantly aching throughout the whole ordeal, as she leaned her head closer to yours your lips slowly touched, having one last passionate kiss, until you broke it up. Minji looked at you with sorrowful yet entrancing eyes as she connected your foreheads, forcing you both to lie in the moment.

"in the morning you're not in my bed, I'll just sleep until I fall dead, my love" She joked weakly as you intertwined your lips together once more before letting out a deep sigh. "I guess this is where you get your stuff and leave, Y/N" She pathetically laughed and more tears streamed down her face.

"Yeah, don't worry I'll be gone by tomorrow..." You turned away taking a breather, before taking one last look at the living room that we had built together. The walls were decorated with inside jokes and pictures you took together, you inspected every one of them, knowing she’d probably throw them out later on in life. Your eyes landed on the coffee pot she gifted you on your anniversary, she built it during her pottery lessons to surprise you, it didn’t work so well, but it was cute. You sigh as you look at the pictures all from different occasions like when you celebrated your first Christmas with her, or when she met your parents, the memories of each decoration hitting you like a train.

"Where are you going to go?" She asked trying to figure out where you’ll run off to now, you laughed for a moment, before looking back at her. Her hands balling up as she awaited your answer, you cupped her face again and smiled at her question.

"Probably crash out with my ex-roommate if she still has a spare room somewhere."

"Oh, uhm…" She laughed elegantly and hugged you tightly not wanting to let you go. "I'll drop you off wherever— whenever you need to go, just please stay with me tonight. It's only…” She trailed off looking at the clock.

“10:36,” You both say in unison.

guys count how much I referenced other songs… anyways back to writing fluff im literally started to tweak out

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moonsaver · 3 months ago

Note

hi hi double yandere anon again -- thought i'd put this in a separate ask :] this is only if you wanna write it, but normal sunday with a yandere reader is giving me some great thoughts. like, reader flipping the script on him, usually so composed and with everything in control, and sunday has to deal with being entirely at their mercy. idk having usual character dynamics reversed is always fun to me, so! again tysm and have a great day!! :}

Hello anon! Since both of these inbox messagws are from you, hope you dont mind that i coupled them lol. Sorry it took so long for me to respond. Im glad to know you liked that piece!

Anyways, this is a very interesting dynamic in my opinion..

Sunday x yan!reader.....

Listen. You might actually be able to convince him to a degree. Lets be for real, this man is probably STARVED for some good loving. But like almost all hsr characters, he'd be unnerved by it at first. The most repulsive situation isn't the fact you're obsessed with him, but rather that he doesn't have control over this situation. You, somehow, do.

Sunday himself is a bit.. intense in my opinion. He's had his fair share of suitors, but most likely not many or any lovers at all. He's isolated to a degree, and doesn't feel like he's desperate for love.

But when yan!reader shows up, proclaims having oh so much love for sunday.. it turns the cogs in his head a bit.

Our dear yan actually has a good chance of winning Sunday over, depending on how you might present yourself inititally. It's like when you finally get a taste of something you didn't want, but realise you've needed almost your entire life.

He's reluctant, as.. minorly expected? But not for the reasons he should be. It's the control factor that's holding him back. His secondary concern is actually more logical – he doesn't know you. And it does unnerve him slightly when you give him the tip of the iceberg of how much you might know.

But, somehow, someway, if you manage to render Sunday unable to defend himself, or kidnap him, or strip him of his reliable abilities?

Boy he is freaking. Out.

He's speaking with a strained voice, his eyes almost blown wide open, his breathing is heavy, slow and shallow, as he desperately tries to stay calm, but every alarm in his head is about to burst from the signals at the loss of control. He's like a rabid dog that's shown a glass of water. Almost snarls at you. Hates hates hates this situation so much, and it's not too soon before he settles quietly with a glare, his mind working relentlessly to weave out of your trap.

But it's a strange pull. He protests and threatens you when you even try doing something – even if its harmless and he would allow you to outside of this situation. But then you wear him down, and you're so gentle with him. You kiss his face and hold him so close and warmly, you listen and even understand his ideals when he talks about them to gauge your personality. This feels as though it's the first time someone truly sees him – scary as it might be, to lay bare all your self, but the very fact you can love him so well makes him.. delirious.

Oh, but he still despises you (for the lack of a stronger word) because of the control aspect. However, instead of planning a heavy punishment for your crime of kidnapping him after he finds a way out.. he may form other methods of payback.

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thewritetofreespeech · 3 months ago

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Could I request Alucard forcing his s/o to go to sleep after seeing her pull too many all-nighters?

Alucard considered himself a patient man. Not the most patient in the world, but patient enough.

So he could, with confidence, say he waited a reasonable amount of time in their bedroom before he went to confront [Y/N].

“Are you coming to bed?” He asked from the doorway of their study.

“In a minute.” They replied. It was always a minute.

[Y/N] had been hunched over that desk for days now. Reviewing plans to help rebuild the town. Looking over agricultural plans. Mapping out territory area for best defenses, should the night creatures come back. Alucard knew that they felt responsible for their destruction, even though they weren’t directly involved. They didn’t make the night creatures. They didn’t beset them on the people like rabid dogs. If anyone should feel guilty, it was him. Yet Alucard was still content to get a good nights sleep.

“All of this can wait until the morning. You are running yourself ragged.”

“I’m not…I mean…I’m not….argh!” They could barely form a sentence they were so tired. “I just need to finish this last thing! Then I’ll come to bed.”

But Alucard knew that that one thing would turn into one more thing. Then another. Then another. Until eventually he found them in the morning at their desk again. Or dead from exhaustion, which was a real thing.

The dhampir strode into the room quickly and pulled their chair out. [Y/N] squawked about what he was doing, but he didn’t answer as he picked them up. “Put me down!”

“No.” He replied simply. “We are going to bed. And that is that.”

“Adrian! I need to work! I need to finish this otherwise-“otherwise what?” Alucard interjected. Still moving towards their bedroom. Perhaps if he distracted them he could get them to bed before [Y/N] made a break for it. “The world will collapse? All life will end?”

“…I just want to be useful…” Their words were strong, but their resistance was failing. Apparently being carried like a child was doing the trick as they were slowly drifting away in his arms.

“You are useful.” Alucard told them as he rounded the last corner. “You are a great help. And you are incredibly important to me. Do not think that your value is only in what you can do. It is also who you are, by just being.”

He wasn’t sure how much of that they heard, as by the time he laid them down they were fast asleep. Alucard smiled softly at their sleeping face, then climbed into bed as well. Finally able to get a goodnight sleep as well with [Y/N] beside him.

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#castlevania #castlevania scenarios #castlevania imagine #castlevania alucard #alucard castlevania #alucard x reader #castlevania alucard x reader #castlevania x reader #imagine #scenarios #castlevania imagines #adrian tepes #adrian fahrenheit tepes

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sp0o0kylights · 1 month ago

Text

No Upside-Down AU

"It's called the Creel House."

Steve groaned. Then groaned again when Dustin produced a binder full of papers, many sticking out at odd angles. He dropped it down on the counter, the thing making an audible "thunk!"

Robin shot a look over her shoulder from where she stood, restocking the kids cartoon aisle.

Steve had a feeling he should have volunteered to do it instead.

"It's Halloween, Steve.” Dustin snarked, rolling his eyes dramatically. “ We're too old to go trick or treating!"

Ah yup, there was that incoming headache, the same one he got whenever Dustin stormed in with a half baked idea.

At least this one didn’t involve tramping around tunnels and stumbling over a pack of feral dogs.

"So you jump right from collecting candy to, what, conducting a fricken seance in a haunted house?" Steve retorted, running a hand through his hair.

A part of him wanted to pull it, but his parents had rid him of that habit long ago.

Dustin scoffed. "We're not conducting a seance.” He said, like that was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “We're gonna do science experiments."

"On ghosts!”

“Come on, Steve!” Dustin whined, his voice pitching up in the way it did when he might not get his way. That meant he’d probably already told his poor mother Steve was involved, just like he always did.

Not that Steve couldn’t completely blame him for doing it.

Between Will Byers getting abducted, found, thought dead, and miraculously coming back to life in the morgue, the Starcourt Mall Fire (caused by Russian experiments if you believed the rumors but what Steve personally knew to be about fifteen different OHSA violations) and the damn feral pack of rabid dogs, the parents of Hawkin’s found themselves suddenly needing to keep a much closer eye on their children.

Claudia Henderson was no exception.

(And maybe a part of him liked Claudia. The way she tried so hard to provide for Dustin, making the most she could of his fathers absence.Steve knew they weren’t divorced, but he also never personally met the guy, and well.

At least Claudia was still there.

At least she was trying.)

“Okay. Let’s say I agree to play ghost masters for a night.” Steve said, mispronouncing Ghostbusters on purpose and enjoying the immediately shrieked correction it got him.

“Why on earth would anyone be willing to let a bunch of teenagers into their house for the night?”

It still killed him that the kids were technically teenagers. Had been, for a hot minute.

They were even high school freshmen now and wasn’t that a trip?

Soon one of them (Steve had his bets on Max) was going to start pestering him to learn how to drive and the very thought made him want to get on his knees in front of his Beemer to beg forgiveness.

“I promise we have permission, Steve.” Dustin pleaded, rolling the word promise across his tongue in that whined, over exaggerated way kids forever used against their older siblings.

“We crossed our i’s and dotted our t’s on this one! It’s just an evening in a house, having fun. That’s it.”

Steve sighed, running a hand down his face when Dustin busted out the puppy dog eyes.

“If you assholes--” He started, and winced when Dustin immediately let out a victory cry.

Fists punched the air, Dustin jumping about as he yelled; “Yes! Steve, thank you!”

“I didn’t say I was going to go yet!” Steve yelled after him as Dustin spun about, shouting that he was going to go tell the Party over his shoulder.

Robin snickered at him behind the kid, which Steve immediately caught.

“Don’t laugh too soon Buckley.” He threatened, pointing at her. “You’re coming too.”

“Oh really?” She shot back, as Dustin flew out of Family Video, making a beeline for his bike. “How do you figure you’re going to get me involved in this one?”

“Because you owe me for driving you to that bar in Indianapolis.”

It was a gay bar, one Steve had heard about when one of his father’s shitty secretaries once again forgot to put the phone on hold when “trying” to transfer Steve’s call.

(She had absolutely nothing nice to say about the bar, which was a solid recommendation in and of itself in Steve's book.)

Not that he truly needed the ammunition. Robin was his best friend, and they loved each other-- a sappy little number he would gladly pull out if it meant he didn’t have to herd the brat pack around by himself on Halloween.

Robin sighed dramatically, staring at the ceiling.

“Fuck you Steve, fine.” She huffed, giving in.

“You would never.” He taunted, and then did his own stupid little mimicry of Dustin’s victory dance, just to make her laugh.

Smiled wide when it worked.

At least if things went sideways again, she'd be right by his side.

xXx

“I don't recall the Creel House being a giant mansion on top of a hill.”

Steve said it accusingly, standing at the meeting spot on Halloween, kids in costumes floating about them as they clogged up the sidewalk.

Nancy Wheeler pursed her lips, arms crossing tightly across her chest.

(Steve had no idea how they’d gotten her to come and frankly, hadn’t asked.)

"It's not." She agreed.

Her eyes narrowed, zeroing in on her brother with a look that younger siblings the world over knew by heart. "And that is absolutely not the Creel House."

"We mixed up the names, so what?” Mike waived a hand, as if by doing so he could flick away his sister’s irritation. “It's a haunted house we have permission to hang out in, on Halloween."

“If it’s not the Creel house then how exactly do we know it’s haunted?” Jonathan muttered, hands clutching his camera.

(Steve did know how he got involved, if Nancy was here.

Not that he mentioned that either.)

Steve nodded in agreement, putting his hands on his hips as the kids grouped before them.

"How exactly, did you get permission for us to stay the night again?" Robin huffed, staring up at a place that looked like it came straight out of one of Munson’s horror movies.

“I dunno, Eddie got it.” Lucas said with a shrug, and got a collective groan from the older teens for his efforts.

“I’m not getting arrested again.” Robin said, spinning on her heel to face Steve, eyes wide.

“I know you guys get arrested by the Chief of Police like, every other day, but some of us do actually want to get into college and frankly, the whole experience sucked.”

“Only Steve and Jonathan have been arrested.” Nancy corrected, face now thoroughly pinched in annoyance.

“The rest of us were just detained. That said,” She added quickly, as Mike and Dustin both went to speak at once, “Robin’s right. We learned our lesson from Starcourt, didn’t we? We are not breaking into places we are not meant to be.”

She sounded like she was quoting something.

Knowing Nancy, she probably was.

“Eddie has definitely been arrested.” Robin protested.

Nancy, forever stuck on a technicality, shot her a look. “Not in the incident I know you’re referencing.”

“Yeah, ‘cause he ran.” Lucas grumbled.

“There is no shame in running boys and girls.” The man himself said loudly, leaping out of the bushes to land right in the middle of their little huddle. “Especially from the law.”

“Eddie!” the kids shrieked as one, their annoyance at his prior abandonment immediately replaced by all his little Hellfire Club minions trying to tackle him.

Max and El shared a private look, the only two of the children to not swamp the metalhead, and collapsed into shared giggles.

Freshmen. Steve thought with a groan, as Eddie dramatically fell down, playing out a very overacted death scene. God help us all.

“Harrington, call off your brats!” Eddie howled, the tail end interrupted by a cackle of laughter as Mike and Dustin tickled him.

“We talked about this Munson.” Steve yelled back. “When you rile them up, they’re your kids, not mine, and you get to deal with them.”

“Damn. Down my minions, down!” Eddie tried, and got tickled harder for his efforts.

They all wrestled for a bit more before the boys relented, Mike and Dustin red in the face with laughter while Lucas, their own budding basketball star and thus the only one to even think of exercising, helped up a panting Will.

“Eddie, not that I trust you, because we both know I don’t,” Robin started, as Eddie jumped to his feet. “But how exactly do we have permission to be in that house?”

“I’m wounded Buckley, truly.” Eddie said, a hand going to cover his heart. He staggered backwards, head shaking as though injured. “Here I thought you were one of my best friends.”

Nancy sighed loudly, rolling both her eyes and her head back while Jonathan hid a smile behind his camera.

“You are one of my best friends you asshole,” Robin fired back. “Which is exactly why I don’t trust you! I know you too well!”

Eddie laughed at that. “Fair.” He reached into his pocket, bringing out a set of keys. “I’m house-sitting the place for the weekend.”

“Someone trusted you to watch a house like that?” Nancy said slowly, before being nudged hard by Robin.

She winced. “I mean-”

“I know what you mean, Wheeler.” Eddie said, taking the comment in stride. “It belongs to one of the executives at the plant my uncle works at. Their first house sitter dropped out last minute and they needed someone to watch their dog.”

Here, Eddie made a face. “He has one of those crusty white things that gets seizures or some shit, the guy said his wife wouldn’t go anywhere unless she knew the dog was okay.”

“So you're allowed to be in there then.” Nancy said tartly. “I am sure they wouldn’t appreciate-”

“You are underestimating how last minute this was.” Eddie cut her off with a twirl, keys swinging out so that they flashed dramatically. “He said, and I quote,”

The metalhead’s voice abruptly adopted an accent that sounded like a trucker and an English butler had a weird, upper class baby.

“I don’t care what you do in this house tonight, Munson, as long as you don’t break anything, kill anybody, and clean it up after yourself. And for fucks sake, keep the damn dog alive.”

Taken aback, all Nancy could do was blink.

“This dude sounds awesome.” Dustin said, impressed. The other boys murmured their agreement, once again slowly swarming Eddie.

Like puppies, they were.

Overexcited, hormone ridden, accident prone, trouble finding puppies.

“Pretty sure the guy was implying I could throw a party, so forgive me if I think inviting a bunch of children, their siblings, a bank geek and their overprotective mother” that was aimed at Steve, “over for a night of trying to communicate with the deceased isn't going to be a problem.”

“Like you would throw a party anyways.” Steve snorted, the sound ugly.

“Wow, is this gang up on Eddie night? I could damn well throw a better party than you, Steve Harrington.” Eddie raised his eyebrows, taunting.

King Steve was of course, a boy long left in the past, but a part of him, that competitive part who was very good at keg stands, rose to the challenge.

“Is that so?” He said, standing up from his “mother hen slouch” as Eddie himself called it, to his full height. He took a step forward, made sure it radiated some of that past swagger he’d been so known for. “I’ll take that bet.”

“Can you guys have a pissing match later?” Robin asked, ignoring the way Nancy winced at her choice of words.

“Yeah!” Mike shouted, abruptly snatching the keys from Eddie’s waving hand and ignoring the shorter teen’s outraged “Hey!”

“Come on, let’s go already!” He huffed, racing off.

“Why did that asshole have to grow so tall?” Eddie complained, as the younger teens flew past him. Even Max and El took off, though they at least paused to shrug at Steve with twin smiles before they ran past.

“I seriously hope this really is ok Eddie.” Robin said, worrying her lip anxiously as the older teens started the climb up to the front door, a trek that somehow took two different sets of steep stairs. “I meant it about getting arrested.”

“Chill Robs.” The metalhead assured her, knocking his shoulder into hers as he and Steve flanked her sides, Jonathan and Nancy trailing behind.

“El’s here, so it’s not like good ol’ Chief Hopper doesn’t know what we’re doing.”

“He knew what we were doing last time.”

“No, he knew whatever lie Mike told him so he could sneak El around. That’s why the kid’s on his shit list.” Eddie corrected.

Robin sighed, defeated. “God you can be just as annoying as Nance, you know that?”

“Excuse me?” Nancy said, from behind, eyes popping wide and startelement.

Jonathan hid his chuckle into a cough when she shot him a furious glance but Steve, now two years past being her ex, had no issues letting her see his amusement.

“Sorry Nancy, but she’s not wrong.” He called teasingly. “You gotta get that need to correct people under control.”

Then bolted past his friends as Nancy spat out his full name like a curse, offended, before quickening her pace to catch him.

Laughing, Eddie and Robin took up the chase, leaving Jonathan to shake his head.

“I am not running with this camera!” He yelled at them, cradling his baby and following at a far more sedate pace.

“Your fault if we lock you out!” Steve called back, but the threat was empty.

He and Jonathan had fixed their shit, those same two years ago. They were good now, even close, sometimes.

Not as close as he was to Eddie and Robin, but close enough to hang out with the kids on Halloween and enjoy it.

‘A family.’ Eddie had called it, while he and Steve recovered in the hospital not even six full months ago, from a shenanigan neither of them talked about in front of Robin for fear she’d put them right back in the ER.

‘We found ourselves a proper family. Good for holidays and everything.’

He’d had a stupid little grin on his face when he’d said it.

‘How about next time we don’t almost die finding one.’ Steve had countered, and then grinned smugly when Eddie’s protest just ended up making his injuries hurt.

“You’re both dumb.” Jonathan had said at the time, their sole witness and ride out of there, soft smile he almost never let out on his face.

“Screw you Byers, you were in California for this one!” Steve complained, and well, it had devolved into silly, amusing arguments from there but the point was still the same.

A family they were, the whole lot of them.

xXx

“Oh my god this place is huge.” Robin muttered, spinning about in the entryway.

“That’s capitalism for ya, baby.”

“We should split up, that way we can find the perfect room.” Dustin announced, shuffling his bulging backpack up as it once again tried to drag him to the floor.

“You weren’t serious about the ghost stuff, were you?” Steve groaned.

He didn’t know why he did--Dustin never joked about this kind of shit.

“We have an opportunity, Steven. I’m not wasting it!”

“Fine then. Go run around like a lunatic and find me when you found your stupid perfect room.”

“Weren’t you the one bitching about splitting up last time?” Eddie teased, playfully poking at Dustin’s back and trying to get him off balance.

“Yeah, in an actual situation.” Steve countered, as the kids paired off, Lucas and Mike losing their preferred partners to each other, the girls not looking sorry for it. “Not playing pretend.”

“Is that what we’re doing? Playing pretend?” Eddie moved his head so that for the briefest of seconds, his nose ghosted right past Steve’s cheek.

Steve, more than used to Eddie having no personal space, didn’t even flinch.

“With the whole summoning ghosts bit? Absolutely.” He clarified with his own secretive smile.

Because Munson often spoke in riddles, had dual meanings to every word-and for once Steve had started to catch on.

Had even started to play around back.

It may have taken him a hot minute to do so, but sitting on the knowledge that there was a chance Eddie Munson was actually, seriously, intentionally flirting with him had made the world rearrange itself a bit.

Steve honestly wasn’t certain he was comfortable with what it meant in regards to himself--but he knew he found Eddie hot.

More than that--they were like two halves of something, working and bouncing off each other in a way only those who were very close could.

(“Two halves of a whole idiot.” Robin had said when Steve had first broached the topic.

Steve had licked a finger and stuck it in her ear in retaliation.)

The guy part, Steve found once he’d thought on it, didn’t bother him as much as it once would have. What made him hesitate wasn’t that, or even how quickly his discovery had led to him having fucking wet dreams of Eddie Munson.

No, it was everything else.

Namely, the dad he’d already disappointed, but also all the other crap that came with living in a small town, and being relied upon by a lot of parents as their kids' de facto elder sibling.

If Steve came out, openly came out…

People had been shitty enough to Eddie, in high school. Steve had even been one of those shitty people. He knew how they thought, what they could and would do.

Egging, graffiti, getting your ass kicked in an allyway, and barred from establishments was all just the start of it, for someone who hadn’t even admitted to being gay.

He’d about convinced himself to ignore it. He liked girls anyway, was one of the lucky ones, as Robin loved to put it, whose brain and general being didn’t care too much about his partner’s gender.

“It at least gives you a shot to fall in love with the person you’re “supposed” to.” She’d said, drunk off her ass and wobbly as she made air quotes with her hands.

Steve couldn’t blame her for it. Not now, when he finally understood the consequences of dating that other person.

The one you weren’t supposed to.

Then came that damn bar in Indianapolis. The bartender with the earring who’d shot him an appreciative glance and Steve hadn’t even had to think about it-he’d just, winked.

Ended up with a free drink.

Made out a little at the back of the bar on the guy’s break and sure, it hadn’t gone farther than that but it was enough.

To know.

To want.

How Robin hadn’t caught him on that one was a miracle, but he didn’t want to ruin things. A part of him knew she was graduating soon-her, Nancy, Jonathan and Eddie, if they could finally drag him through Mrs. Click’s class.

They could all move, if they wanted to, after that.

He was happy to follow them wherever they wanted to go, and knew the first three were trying to get into the same colleges. He also knew he wouldn’t have problems dragging Eddie along for the ride.

If anything the guy was itching to get out faster than any of them.

Laughter suddenly rang down the halls, interrupting him from his too loud thoughts.

Steve smiled at it, knowing he damn well couldn’t abandon the kids.

“You alright?” Jonathan asked, his voice too quiet as always, having come up on Steve’s left side.

The guy just didn’t relax anymore unless he was high.

Steve made a mental note to ask Eddie if he’d brought anything after the kids had managed to go to sleep-or at the very least, tire themselves out enough to be corralled in one room. Then the adults could go have their fun.

Something he knew Jonathan desperately needed.

“Yeah, just thinking.” Steve said back.

“I didn’t know you could do that.” Jonathan responded, then cracked a smile when Steve playfully threw his shoulder at him.

“Earth to Harrington!” Eddie called, and Steve blinked, because the guy had suddenly teleported from right near him to across the sprawling entryway entirely. “If you and Johnny Boy are done talking, I say we to go explore the basement. Together.”

Eddie clapped his hands, to emphasize the last word.

Jonathan shook his head, but Steve just sent his friend a conspiratorial wink, before putting on the most harassed sitcom-husband voice he could, yelling back “Coming, honey!”

Eddie, who had started to turn, almost tripped at the words, long legs tangling together and getting an honest to god laugh out of Jonathan.

Steve snickered right along with him, before trotting over to save his idiot friend from himself.

“Come on Munson, let’s go be the stupid people who die first in all the horror movies.” He said, opening the door and trotting down the rickety, wooden steps.

A pressure at his back, Munson crowding him as he followed.

“If we wanna be the people who die first, then we have to sneak away to have sex.” Eddie murmured, hair ticking the back of Steve’s neck.

Steve grinned as the sound of the basement door swinging shut followed.

The sudden silence and lack of light was just the courage he needed to blurt out, “Well if that’s on the table, then I’d absolutely rather die like that.”

The breath Eddie sucked in was a high he could ride for days, Steve decided, as he carefully made it to the bottom of the stairs. went about feeling for the lights.

Being flirted with by Eddie was one thing but flirting back?

Steve had never been on a better power trip.

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zweiginator · 4 months ago

Note

need to hear about pornstar!au reader feeling soooo awkward the next time she sees her best friends…and she blushes so hard when she confesses what she saw (and what she did)

usually you're so talkative but the next time you, art and patrick hang out--you're silent. stirring the ice around your drink at dinner and the boys are just staring at each other. they fear they fucked up your friendship by posting those videos. maybe it really is deeply against your morals. maybe you can't overlook it and you're finding a way to respectfully tell them they disgust you.

your head hangs down and patrick pays for the check and then you're walking back to his car and art clears his throat.

"are you okay?"

"who, me?" you ask.

"yes, you. little miss talks our ears off didn't say a word at dinner." patrick starts the car, puts it in reverse.

"well--" you begin. how do you say this? you don't have to. you know this. but ever since you were little, secrets ate away at you. eroded your sanity until you had to let it bubble out of your mouth like a rabid dog.

"well?" patrick, always so impatient.

"well. i saw your video."

patrick smirks. art tries to hide his.

"oh." art looks at you from the passenger seat. "i thought you don't watch porn?"

"i didn't." and then silence. "that was the first time."

"so," patrick stops at a red light, looking back at you. "you looked it up?"

god, it's so embarrassing that you draw your knees up to your chest and hide your face. a muffled, "yes."

"did we do a good job?" patrick asks.

"pat--" art scolds him.

you're quiet and you shake your head, still hidden. you watch how your stomach rises and falls with each breath you take. it's better to just focus on that.

but the silence is somehow worse than saying anything.

"dunno. i have nothing to compare it to."

"good point." patrick turns; you're almost back at his place.

"i liked it."

you see the boys glance at each other through the rearview mirror. a minuscule smile creeps on both of their lips as if drawn up by a puppeteer.

"you did?" they ask it in unison.

"i want to tell you guys because i don't like to keep secrets. and i didn't like that you didn't tell me about the videos right away."

"okay, well we appreciate you being open with us." art coos to you. he wants you to feel better.

"that wasn't what i wanted to tell you. well, not all of it."

they wait. you're in patrick's driveway, but he keeps the car on and they both turn around to watch your mouth contort. you keep retracting your words.

"i--" you gulp. "i touched myself. to the video."

they can't stop it this time. your best friends stare back at you with shit-eating grins. toothy and the most genuinely fucking excited you've ever seen them before.

patrick leans forward after shutting off the ignition.

"we were kinda hoping that would happen."

#ask #challengers #patrick zweig #art donaldson #pornstar!artrick #pornstar!artrick x virgin!reader

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bougiebutchbinch · 27 days ago

Note

Adding to the ‘Logan eating like an animal trend’.

I honestly feel like Logan has always secretly been a messy eater, he just keeps it under wraps when around other people.

However, the minute Wade catches him snapping his jaw and devouring steaks like he’s a fight dog that’s been starving for ages, all of a sudden Wade has the desire to feed Logan.

Now, I am 100% on the ‘neither of these bitches know how to cook proper meals’ trend (although tbh, I see Logan being a magician on the grill) but the minute Wade sees Logan devouring steak like a rabid dog, he starts to learn how to cook. It’s mainly steaks and meats but it’s better than nothing. He starts to feed Logan just to see him snap his jaws and devour the food.

THEN HE SEES THAT LOGAN IS STARTED TO DEVELOP A MORE HEALTHY BODY WEIGHT AND THAT GETS HIM WOUND UP.

He has a whole process. He’ll cook the food, set up on a wooden cutting board, (to avoid any broken dishes) call Logan over for food, serve himself a plate, sit down and enjoy the fucking show. Wade barely touches his own meal cuz he’s too busy watching Logan eat so he’ll sneak a few pieces of his own food to Puppins even when Logan lectures him about not feeding the dog people food.

OH MY GOSDDDDDSDSDSflkjdsfhkjgdsl this is everything to me. FEED THAT MAN. REHYDRATE HIM. Wade loves feeling Logan round out and develop a healthy layer of fat over his muscle! Loves feeling him become even stronger with it; loves his weight and his heft and his hairy thick thighs~

hggg. Logan thighs. Sorry I have to go hide in my bunk for a bit slkjdffds

this especially fits with the idea of Wade who struggles a bit with food.... he loves food so much!! He loves eating different food from different cultures and trying everything! But. He has some pretty clear, uh, digestive issues that he jokes about a lot in the comics, which I headcanon as being thanks to the ol' cancer hell, and I also headcanon him as throwing up really easy and getting nauseous like... a lot. So, eating is a constant struggle for him, and something he once loved has become a bit of a source of misery. I reckon he finds it DIFFICULT to maintain a healthy weight, if not impossible sometimes when the cancer symptoms beat his ass, and it's just made eating stressful and sad rather than enjoyable.

Then...

then Logan comes along. Needing so obviously to be loved and looked after and fed...

I want Wade graaaaadually learning to love food again, and developing a healthier relationship with eating - even if that means accepting that his body is going to reject half of what he puts in it! - because he's so thrilled to be helping Logan get comfy-padding. And, uh, so turned on by watching him go full fucking feral on his steak 😏

#poolverine #tw food #tw emetophobia #tw cancer #tw weight loss #tw weight gain

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quietblueriver · 1 year ago

Text

Because I can't imagine Imogen was ready to let that moment in the basement go, some quickly written Southern Gothic angst/love/comfort set between their nighttime excursion and Imogen's visit to the temple the next day. Light spoilers for ep. 77.

When the door closes, the sounds of Fearne’s hoofs fading down the hallway, Imogen turns quickly to her pack, doing what she can to look busy as she shuffles clothes and tries to catch her breath. She needs a minute. She needs more than a minute. She needs…

“Imogen.”

It’s loving and soft, because of course it is, because it’s Laudna, but it’s also…she’s doing that thing she does sometimes, where she acts like Imogen doesn’t know what she wants. Like Imogen is too young and too naive to understand. The same tone she used in the basement. Promise me.

As if Laudna wouldn’t burn the world down for her. As if they don’t both know it.

It’s not the first time she’s dealt with this bullshit. Laudna gets to be passionate and protective and fierce in her love (I would murder everyone around us if anything happened to you) but Imogen is supposed to pretend like Laudna’s life is worth less to her, to the world. Supposed to somehow just…let Laudna go. Because what? She’s a little bit dead? A little bit different? Imogen leveled a city block without conscious thought and nobody’s trying to put her down like a rabid dog, so why does everybody act like that bitch Delilah makes Laudna’s life irrelevant? Why does Laudna act like her life doesn’t…like Imogen should just be able to…

Her veins crackle, shoulders so tight they rival Ashton’s, and when the sound of Laudna’s boots stepping closer reaches her ears, she says, sharp and unyielding, “Not now.”

The steps halt immediately, the room quiet aside from the settling fabric of Laudna’s skirt and Imogen’s heaving breath.

“I’m…I really am sorry, darling.”

Her body moves before her brain can stop it, eyes bright and anger flaring as she turns fast enough to surprise them both. Laudna is running her eyes up and down Imogen’s body a bit frantically, like she’s working out a puzzle, and it’s not fear, but it’s a close enough cousin that Imogen sees a flash of her daddy, hard eyes turned on Imogen in the barn after one of the foals got out. The shame is enough to temper her, but it means all the rest of it comes up instead: anger, still, but hurt and fear and the deep grief that lingers in the corners of her dreams, in the desperate way she sometimes holds to Laudna.

“For what?” Her voice breaks, but she shakes her head again as Laudna holds out a hand, so Laudna drops it, fists her skirt nervously instead. “Why are you sorry?”

There’s genuine confusion on her face as she says, “For everything in the basement. I know…I know how it must have seemed, when my form of dread looked so much like her. I know it can’t have been pleasant to watch me lose control that way. Being there just…”

Imogen holds her hand up, light licking up her fingertips, and Laudna’s words trail off, her eyes caught on the lightning running through Imogen’s scars, worry furrowing her brow. Imogen forces down the impulse to comfort. She’s started this conversation, and she needs to finish it. For the both of them. If she lets herself get close enough to run a thumb over the crease between Laudna’s eyebrows, to hold the hand still playing with the material of her skirt, that’ll be it. So she doesn’t, focuses instead on the memory of Laudna’s hands in hers in that room. Promise me.

“I’m not mad ‘cause you looked like her, Laud. Or ‘cause you…I know what that place was to you, an’ I can’t imagine what it must have felt like for you to be there again. You don’t,” she works to keep the frustration from seeping into her words, “you don’t have to keep apologizin’ for her. You’re not her, Laudna, even though everybody keeps actin’...you keep actin’ like you are.”

She crosses her arms tight across her chest and stares at the floor, blinking hard as her vision blurs with tears.

“I know I’m not her. I know that, darling.”

The toes of her boots come into Imogen’s line of sight and she doesn’t tell her to stop but she does back herself up, pressing as hard as she can into the table behind her and wincing slightly as a sharp corner digs into her skin. The boots come no further.

“Do you? Because it feels like you…” She uncrosses her arms to wipe her palms swiftly across her cheeks. “It feels like you’re just waitin’ on her to take over. Waitin’…” Her voice cracks again, and she grabs behind her, finds the handkerchief sitting beside her pack and brings it to her face.

“Imogen.”

She shakes her head fiercely, forces a deep breath and then looks up to meet Laudna’s eyes, fist clenched around damp fabric. “Waitin’ to leave.”

Laudna takes half a step forward and stops as Imogen tries to back up further, managing only to dig the corner of the table further into her flesh and guarantee herself a bruise. Laudna’s going to gnaw through her lip, Imogen can already tell, and there’s black pooling at growing nails, ichor waiting to be pulled between nervous fingers. Still, Imogen holds the line, appreciates the distraction of pain, the sturdy wood that won’t yield to her body’s pressure.

“I don’t want to leave, darling. I don’t want to leave you. I’m not giving up. I promise.”

Promise me. Her eyes shine, anger forcing its way to the front of her mind again, and Laudna begins to say something, but Imogen beats her to it, words cutting.

“Oh, do you? Promise? Should I go get Fearne, then? So there’s a witness?”

“Imogen, what…”

“Is it…d’you think I’m so out of line that…or maybe so ridiculous? So naive that…” Her scars burn now, heat across her skin and in the tears pressing against the corners of her eyelids. They continue to leak despite her best efforts, tracking down her cheeks until Imogen brings the yellow fabric of the handkerchief back to her face, letting her eyes slide closed for a moment.

When she opens them again, Laudna looks stricken, her body fighting its instinct to close the distance between them, frozen in the face of Imogen’s obvious desire for space.

She presses out through the thickness in her throat, voice rough, “You made me…you made me promise to…in front of Fearne, Laud. Did you…how was that fair? What was I supposed to do, when she was right there? Are you…are you that scared to talk to me about it? You think I’m that…that absurd, that you needed somebody else there to…to keep me in line?” Imogen laughs bitterly, and shrugs. “I mean, I guess I get it. I’m standin’ here provin’ your point, yeah?” She ducks her head and stares at the worn leather of her boots, breath shaky as shame heats her face.

“No. No, of course not. Imogen. That’s not…”

Darling, can you look at me? Please?

She does, because Laudna asks her to, but even as their eyes meet, Imogen’s jaw aches as she holds herself together, shuts herself off, refuses to give up any more of herself. She can’t bring herself to deny Laudna’s request, but she doesn’t force herself to vulnerability. Not now. It’s strange, to put up her walls this way with Laudna, but it’s Laudna who has hurt her this time.

Laudna, whose black eyes are nearly as wide now as they are when she transforms, full of concern and confusion and a love obvious enough that it makes Imogen grind her teeth in resistance.

“I’m so sorry, Imogen. I didn’t realize…” Her lips are black with ichor and her hands are in constant motion at her sides, strings of black magic expanding and contracting as she fidgets. “I thought it would be…You were…you were so alone, last time. I thought maybe, if you had Fearne, if she knew what I wanted…what I wanted for you…Imogen, I don’t want you to have to carry it alone. Not again. That’s all, darling. I don’t think you’re absurd. Of course I don’t. I wasn’t trying to…to trick you. Or trap you. I would never. Please.”

The pleading tone makes no dent in the wall Imogen has put up, is nothing in the face of the voice in her mind, reminding her of Laudna’s words in the basement, the look on Fearne’s face. I’m quite literally a dead end. Promise me.

“Why are you so sure I’ll have to carry it at all? Why are you so sure she’s gonna win?”

The tears are constant and furious, dripping unchecked down her cheeks, and she hates it, hates feeling this exposed, but she forces herself to keep her head up, to hold Laudna’s gaze.

“Imogen.”

The same tone–love, yes, but something far too close to pity for Imogen to let it lie.

“No. No. I’m not stupid, Laudna. I know what you are. I’ve been in your mind, remember? I’ve seen her there. I’ve known since the day we met that you were different, and I still…I fell in love with you, knowin’ full well what you are and what that means. I’ve seen your form of dread, seen your body split open.

The curtains on Pate’s house are made from my old shirt. Your hound has laid its drippin’ head on my lap. For fuck’s sake, Laudna, I slept next to your dead body. Your truly dead body. An’ I sleep next to you every night. Have for years and will for as many more years as I’m alive, if I have anythin’ to say about it.

I love you, want you, all of you, and you know that. I’m not quiet about it. So why do you keep actin’ like I’m gonna wake up one day and be surprised by what you are? Why the fuck do you keep callin’ yourself a dead end?”

“Because I am one, darling.” It’s sad, and resigned, and there is ichor dripping down her cheeks now, thick tracks left on pale skin. “I don’t want her to win, my love. I don’t. Please believe me. But I have to be realistic. For me. For the both of us.

And Imogen, even if she doesn’t win…

I love you so very deeply. More than I’ve loved anyone or anything in any of my lives. But I am dead. I’m not meant to be here, and you deserve someone who can…who can live, really live, with you. You deserve everything, and I can’t give you that.”

Bullshit. It’s bullshit. The part of her that understands why, understands what Laudna’s been through and the demons that pull at her, whisper to her, the part that drives her almost always, that keeps her soft–it’s gone, lost for the moment to a lifetime’s worth of hurt, of being abandoned or tolerated, never quite good enough for love.

She aches as she spits out, voice as hard as it ever has been with Laudna, with anyone, “If you don’t wanna be with me, you can just say it. You can just…” She shudders, hardens. “Just stop pretendin’ you’re doin’ this for my sake, alright? It’s insultin’ to the both of us. If you don’t want me, just say so.”

“Imogen.”

She can’t do it, not anymore, so she turns to the table behind her, grips the edges as her body shakes. She clenches her jaw until she’s overcome, until a sob escapes, loud and ugly and broken, and then Laudna’s arms are around her waist, cool lips and cool breath against the shell of her ear, “Imogen. Darling. My love. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. There’s nothing I want more than to be with you. I’m trying. I promise I’m trying. I don’t want her to win. I don’t want to leave you. Ever.”

She turns and buries her face in Laudna’s neck, her own arms wrapped around Laudna’s fragile ribs as tightly as she can manage without hurting her. A hand buries itself in her hair, nails scratching against her scalp as she’s held close.

“I’m sorry, darling. I’m sorry. Come sit with me? Please?”

She nods into Laudna’s shoulder, body still shaking, and Laudna hums as she holds her for another minute, pressing kisses to her temple before pulling away just enough to grab Imogen’s hands and lead them both to the bed. They settle across from each other, Laudna holding one of Imogen’s hands between them as she brings the other to Imogen’s face, pressing two fingers gently against her chin until their eyes meet.

“I’m sorry.”

She’s so sincere, so unfailingly honest, and Imogen fights against the urge to duck her head again, ashamed and sheepish.

“No, Laud. I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. That wasn’t…I know you love me and I know you’re tryin’. I do. I’m just…I’m scared. I lost you once and I can’t…I don’t think I can do it again. And sometimes it feels like you think it’s an inevitability, that you’re gonna leave me. That she’s gonna…

And I get it. I do. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to have her with you, to know she’s there all the time. But to have you ask me to…to let you go? To move on? To be happy? With Fearne right there like it was…What would you say, if I asked you to do that? Could you promise me?”

Laudna flinches at the thought, her head almost unconsciously shaking in denial.

“I know I…I know I’ve said some things. About Predathos and Ruidus and what it might take, what I might have to give up. But I hope you know I don’t…I’m not bankin’ on that, Laud. I don’t want it. Especially not now. Not when we…” She brings Laudna’s hand to her mouth and kisses her palm, her wrist, her knuckles. “I want you.”

Laudna rocks forward, kissing Imogen fiercely, catching her bottom lip with sharp incisors and settling a hand possessively against Imogen’s throat.

I want you, too. I’ve never wanted anything like I want you.

Imogen lets herself be pressed back into the bed, sighs as Laudna trails her mouth across her jawline, bites at the lobe of her ear before making her way down to her collarbones, nipping and soothing with a cold tongue.

I don’t want to leave you. I never want to leave you.

A hand drags at the fabric of her dress, pulling up and up until nails run sharp against the skin of her thighs, fingers moving until a palm presses against her hipbone, holding her down as Laudna’s mouth finds hers again.

Let me show you, darling. Let me show you how much I want you. Please.

Later, tucked into the stupidly nice bed, with Imogen’s head resting on her chest, Laudna says, “It’s still difficult for me to believe that you want me. That you’d give up a normal life for me.” Imogen runs her palm over Laudna’s ribs, waits quietly. “Selfishly, I want you to, even though it…it’s not what I want for you. You deserve so much more, so much better than what I can…” Laudna squeezes at Imogen’s arm before she can object, and Imogen snaps her jaw shut. “Thank you, love.” She feels the press of lips against her hair. “I understand why you were angry with me. I…I would be, too, if you tried to tell me to leave you. To live without you. Even if I knew you were doing it for good reasons, as you undoubtedly would be.

I know you want to be with me, even if I don’t understand why. Even if I worry that I can’t give you what you deserve. I’m sorry that I keep trying to take that choice from you. I'm going to try to do better. I promise.

And as for me…I want you, Imogen. I want to be here, with you. And if I’m lucky enough that you want me, too, well. Please believe me when I say I have every intention of trying my hardest to stay.”

Imogen pushes herself up to kiss the sharp point of her chin, the corner of her mouth.

“I love you. I wanna live my whole life with you. A stupidly long and real happy life. And anybody who tries to get in the way of that is gonna have a real hard time of it. You hear me?” She’s not talking to Laudna, and they both know it. “I’m gonna fight for you, Laud. And I’ve been told I’m real capable.”

She kisses her again, and again, until eventually they settle, Laudna’s breath evening out slowly the way it does in sleep, muscle memory stronger than the reality of her undeath. While she sleeps, Imogen plans. She might be capable, but she’s also owed a few favors, knows how to make sure she’s owed a few more. She’s never really prayed before, but she can learn. For Laudna, she can do a whole lot more than that.

#imodna #imodna fic #southern gothic #critical role

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ecoterrorist-katara · 8 months ago

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Katara would’ve been such a good diplomat (it’s canon)

everyone rightfully hates on the ATLA comics because the politics are baffling and the characterization is even more so…but if there’s one thing we can take away from the dumpster fire that is The Promise, it’s that Katara was BORN to be a diplomat and an international force for peace, okay? Especially since her besties, the Avatar and the Fire Lord, aren’t actually very good at this.

If you haven’t read The Promise, the Wikipedia summary is pretty good. The TL;DR is that Zuko and Kuei agree that the Fire Nation colonies need to be returned to the Earth Kingdom. The colony of Yu Dao is not happy about this because the people of the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom have been mixing together (under inequitable conditions) for more than a hundred years and “just kick out the Fire Nation” is not as straightforward as it seems, since there are blended families now. Zuko refuses to kick out the Fire Nation people from Yu Dao, Kuei wants to play hardball, and they almost launch another war. Oh and there’s a weird plot about Aang debating whether to put Zuko down like a rabid dog

For all that the Wiki page does a good job of summarizing the events, it forgets some key facts:

It’s Katara who first starts thinking about new solutions after witnessing the situation on the ground, and then comes up with the idea that Zuko and Kuei should meet and talk about the colonies:

It’s Katara who tells Kuei that Zuko has legitimate concerns (without saying that Zuko is right), when Aang tries to hedge and sugarcoat the truth:

And it’s Katara who says to Kuei, wait, what the hell do you mean that you have no idea what your people want, that Yu Dao is just a dot on the map for you? We’re getting you out of this stupid blimp and you’re gonna talk to people before you make a decision that affects their lives, you coward

To recap, Katara demonstrates some pretty freaking key political skills, like:

finding out what people want before making a decision for them

seeing people as people first and foremost, not as fire nation or earth kingdom

encouraging her loved ones, the Avatar and the Fire Lord, to resolve a conflict by beginning negotiations instead of brawling like a couple of drunks at a bar / kids on the playground (both analogies fit btw, 13-17 is a weird combination of ages)

realistically reporting tricky disagreements without sweeping them under the rug

kidnapping a king to the middle of a battlefield to give him a reality check about listening to the people he’s trying to rule

Anyway, Katara is hyper competent at both war AND peace! We see this in the show, with her compassion for the prisoners of the Earth Kingdom (by inciting a prison riot) and the suffering people of the Fire Nation (by committing ecoterrorism), only now that compassion is backed up not only by her fighting prowess and speeches about hope, but actual ability to manipulate the levers of power.

And have I mentioned that she has the ears of both the Avatar and the Fire Lord and her dad is Chief of the Southern Water Tribe? Even if Katara didn’t get a diplomat position based on her skills, or her status as a war hero, she could nepo baby her way in. The fact that she does not pick up a career in international diplomacy is a crime & a colossal oversight from the creators. At minimum you know Katara would’ve established Healers Without Borders or something. She deserves to be yelling at people at ATLA UN and then drafting world-changing resolutions.

And as a bonus, Katara demonstrates her gift for diplomacy by not smacking Zuko up the head for attempting to legitimize colonization through the argument of economic progress…

…and by not smacking Aang up the head for seriously considering anti-miscegenation as a viable political solution:

This patience is a new development because show!Katara did not have this in her, but maybe this is what growing up is all about and not just yet another strike on the “comics are wildly OOC” tally

TL;DR: ATLA boys lost their brain cells post-canon. All hail Katara, Sugar Queen of international diplomacy.

#Katara #Katara deserved better #atla comics #Chief Katara of the Water Tribes #United Republic Councilwoman Katara #Ambassador Katara #I’m not picky which one she becomes I just want her to exert political power as a principled and fair and compassionate representative #She saved the world it’s only fair she gets to run it especially since unlike most nepo babies (ie monarchy) she’s qualified #pro Katara #atla #my meta

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tiredsurvivoronmain · 6 months ago

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When they were talking about Wesker, I can't help but when he said this to Jill (when she said it was like living in a nightmare being controlled), I think he was also talking about himself when he said this.

He had only just opened up to her about Piers (apparently the first time he's told her about him years after his death), and it almost felt as if he was confessing his guilt/loss and that he had planned on retiring, Piers being the one to take over from him. He looked vulnerable telling her, the way he held the water bottle with both hands as if he needed something to hold and ground him, like it took real effort to open up (he's still affected by Piers' death). When it came to Wesker, him 'opening up' carried over and he may have confessed how he felt about Wesker still being in his mind, memories and nightmares. It could have also been Piers he was having nightmares about and he struggled to come to terms with the loss. Not necessarily in a romantic sense but it's obvious losing Piers hit him hard. However his relationship/rivalry with Wesker was longer and more intense, it would make sense that he'd still feel that connection to him like an old scar that won't fade and gives him pain. He also uses replicas/weapons that were Wesker's, if he wanted to be done with Wesker, why use them at all? Would he have not had other alternative weapons to choose from? Wesker's dead (as far as he's concerned) yet he still has that connection to him. If he was the one who commissioned the series of weapons or was the one to name them after Wesker... Did he do it to honour his memory? Or that he wanted something of Wesker or that connection with him to stay? And what would Jill have thought of it? Chris using replica weapons of the man that controlled her and made her live a nightmare? "And if you're not careful, it'll swallow you up." Perhaps he said that because that's what has happened to him, that the nightmares of Wesker have consumed him or had at one point consumed him.

The why he looked and acted empty after killing Wesker, you'd think he'd be happy or relieved it was over like the others were. Maybe he was at first but after a while the emptiness began to settle; he trained for so long to fight Wesker, he had a purpose and a goal. When Wesker was gone it left a void that needed to be filled. But something that had such an impact and influence on his life would have left him feeling empty. In a way, he killed part of his identity that day.

Then there's this scene in RE6

WHY was Chris prepared to die because he killed Wesker? As if he felt guilty or regretted it? He didn't know Jake personally, he didn't try to defend his actions or explain that Wesker was trying to destroy the world. Yet he willingly confessed and felt he deserved to be shot for killing him.

It took Chris a strangely long time to answer, why did he have to even think it over? He wanted to take Wesker down for personal reasons and because he was ordered to, it should have been a quick and obvious answer. My guess is that he was having flashbacks to Wesker, possibly his final moments. The way he sounded when he answered was as if he had no choice but to kill Wesker, that it wasn't for the same personal reasons he had before. He had to kill him in the same way of putting down a rabid dog, to protect people and to put it out of it's misery/pain. "I had to, he wouldn't stop. He was beyond saving."

Whether he felt actual guilt/regret for killing Wesker or it was merely a very dangerous tactic to get through to Jake, it's hard to say.

Ironically, there have been many occasions Wesker has aimed a gun at Chris and never fired, not even to miss for plot or as a warning. Jake, his son, did what Wesker couldn't in his 10 years of rivalry with Chris.

And of course, this scene in the RE1 remaster.

I've talked about this in another post but long story short, he still cared about Wesker despite being betrayed by him, that just moments ago shot Rebecca. Chris laughed and mocked him seconds before and was held at gun point, but the moment Wesker got attacked he immediately tried to help/save him. He cared.

And he still did, even after his death. Using Wesker weapon replicas, protecting and defending his son, possibly still having Wesker's STARS knife from the events of Code Veronica...he needs to have something of Wesker to be part of him. Whatever his reasons, despite all the pain, anger and hatred, he refuses to let him go and let the past be buried. He is both haunted and embracing the ghost of Wesker. The longer the absence of Wesker goes on, the more Chris is changing. Deep down he may have been hoping, wanting, Wesker to come back. 10 years pass and there's still no sign of him, the realisation turning into grief and regret. Wesker gave Chris purpose (just like how Chris gave Wesker purpose), now that purpose was gone, things just aren't the same anymore and there's nothing he can do to get him back. Wesker may have been right after all; their fates really are forever intertwined.

#chrisker #chris redfield #wesker #albert wesker #analysis and theories #long post

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