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anni-writes · 5 months ago

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intimacy limbo

Miya Atsumu x MSBY PR manager! reader

Warnings: nsfw, suggestive convo, dirty talk, drunk atsumu, drunk call, nothing very explicit though

word count: 1106

@ anni says: I'm a sucker for this dynamic, probably will write more, let me know if y'all liked 🤲

“hello?”

you pick up the annoying phone buzzing under your pillow without sparing much time to check the name on the screen, assuming it's an emergency, since nobody would sanely call another person in the middle of the night if it wasn't important, right?

… wrong

“did I wake you up?“ — the voice on the other side said and you wondered if he was joking

you sat on the bed, looking to the clock on the bedstand

“it's 2am, Atsumu. Why are you calling?”

you asked in a deep hoarse sleepy voice, your forehead frowning while your brain tried to make the sinapses of why Atsumu Miya would call his PR Manager at such hour.

all the answers sounded terrible

“fuck, don't tell me you're screwing a married actress again? or you fought someone at a party? it's fucking friday Atsumu you're gonna make me work on the weekend again—”

“God, your voice is so hot when you wake up…”

he interrupted my rambling with his own and immediately I realize he might be drunk.

“where are you?” — I asked, a little more soothing now

“uhhh… home?”

“since when?”

“since… ten minutes ago”

“where were you?”

“i— at a pub? with Bokkun and some others”

“why are you calling?”

the line went quiet, I can feel the hesitation lingering, but I don't push it, just hearing his deep breathing for some long seconds

“i— wanted to hear your voice… you…”

he stops suddenly, and I let him be, laying back down on my bed, keeping the phone on my ear, looking at the ceiling

“are you drunk?”

“no. maybe? a little. but not much” — enough to call me in the middle of the night, I think to myself. but also don't comment on it

I stay quiet on the line for a few seconds, enough for him to protest.

“hey”

“hm?”

“talk to me”

he say, a demanding tone, and I can't help but snort.

“what do you want to talk about, Miya?”

“when was the last time you fucked somebody”

my breath hitched in a silent surprise, not expecting this question

“what the fuck, Atsumu—”

“answer me”

I stop on my track, narrowing my eyes and shaking my head, trying to remember when was the last time I—

“that'd be… three months ago? on a blind date”

“did you cum?”

my eyebrow raise on an impossible force, but I can't bring myself to be uncomfortable with his questions. a sick dynamic that blossomed after the Olympic games, when I cleaned up all of his messes

“I didn't”

“And when was the last time?”

I narrow my eyes, not quite catching

“Last time…?”

“That you came?”

“uhm… Last night? I mean, I don't need a man to cum, do I…?”

He hissed on the phone, that was the only answer I didn't antecipated.

“Atsumu, are you getting off from my voice?”

I ask bluntly, expecting an equal blunt answer. And how was my surprise when I didn't get one

“I— no, I don't… I just… that's not…”

“You're such a slut"

this time he graced me with a whimper from the back of his throat,

and somehow, in a sick way, I was starting to like

“… you drive me crazy, you know that?”

he said, his voice clearly deeper, darker

“how do I drive you crazy, Miya?”

“don't… dont call me that... not now”

“i’ll call you whatever I want, Miya”

he hiss again, and I almost chuckle. but I hold back, just asking

“what was that?”

silence on the other way, I hear him sighing, and I mend, testing the waters

“Atsumu?”

“Yes!”

he say immediately and exhasperated, and I smile

“you like how I say your name?”

“I… very much”

“what if I moaned your name?”

“… ah… fuck… don't say shit like that…”

“Okay, I won't…”

“But please do”

this time I can't hold back, I crack a laugh on the phone

“Miya, there's only so much mixed signals someone can handle”

“You speak like you'd let me fuck you even if I beg”

“We can't, Miya”

he sigh deep on the other side, I can hear the frustration in his voice

“I'll send my nudes to a sports journalist and create the biggest PR scandal MSBY has ever seen”

he say in a petty act and I crack another laugh, knowing he doesn't actually would do something of such magnitude. not purposefully, at least.

“You know that would only obligate us to stay in the same meeting room for long hours until I fix it, don't you?”

he sigh, frustrated again, on the other side of the line, and I hear muffled sounds of something soft, probably him shifting on his bed

but the silence linger again, and before he can protest, I break it

“You should go to sleep, you have practice tomorrow”

“… can't. ‘m hard.” — he say and I snort, biting my tongue to not ask for proof

“take a cold shower, masturbate, dunno. go to sleep, Miya”

I hear him sighigh frustrated again, another set of shuffling noises

“okay, I'll go”

he say and part of me feel bad, not wanting to end the call, used to this sick twisted intimacy that I cultivated myself

“You go, and don't get late for practice tomorrow. G’night”

“night”

his answer is dry, and before he (or I) can hesitate or say anything else, I press the red button, putting my phone down on the bed.

I sigh, throwing my arms on my face, knowing I'm in the wrong for indulging Atsumu antics,

but this dynamic, once settled, it's impossible to go back. The rush of dopamine is too delicious, making both of us stuck in a middle term limbo of attraction and curiosity, leading to a twisted intimacy.

after tossing and turning on the bed for a while, in a failed attempt to go back to sleep, I decide to take back my phone, seeking some brain distraction

and I see a lost text from Atsumu

i knew opening his message would only make things worse for me. But I do it either way. And the sight makes my mouth water.

“fucking hell” I think to myself, grumbling while opening the bedstand drawer where my toys are, preparing for a couple more hours of perturbation

#miya atsumu x you #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya x you #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu msby #msby atsumu #haikyuu atsumu #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu

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readerstories · 7 days ago

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When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 7/?

Had some time during my layover, so here's the next chapter, hope y'all enjoy! Don't know quite when the next chapter will be, since I'll be on vacation, but I'll try to get something out in hopefully not too long. Just a smigde of info, reader has tried to look up treatments for the pain caused by soulmates, the only one that really works is to be near them. (AO3) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

Warnings/tags: male reader, slightly suggestive, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn

Wordcount: 1659

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

This time it’s a week and a half before you see them. Your sanity might be thanking the universe, but your body does not. You’re stiff, your shoulders and back constantly. You’ve taken to taking long and scolding baths to ease the pain, it helps for a bit since painkillers won’t. Which you discovered through lived and read experience.

So, in a way, it’s good that you meet them again, even if you will barely admit that to yourself.

This time it is in a place you didn’t think would be their scene.

This time you are a bouncer at a nightclub, a favor for Dave who got food poisoning. You groaned over the phone when he asked for the favor, but said yes after he promised to buy several rounds for you next time you go drinking with him. It gives you a reason to leave your apartment, to try to live life normally.

So now you are getting paid to look tough and check ID’s, and have free drinks to look forward to later. So, a win-win. Even if you have to deal with drunk people, and you can’t go armed, since the dress pants and t-shirt that is the uniform doesn’t hide much. Technically you shouldn’t need to be armed for this job, but it always feels more safe to be than to not be, especially with your life.

It’s a win-win until you spot two familiar people in your line into the club.

Two annoyingly familiar people.

Wade’s wearing tight black leather pants, a black plastic cowboy hat, a pink hello kitty long-sleeve that sits plastered to his muscled torso, a pink bandana covering the lower half of his face, and matching pink chunky closed toe high heels.

It makes him taller than Logan, who’s wearing black jeans, boots, and a tight black shirt that is unbuttoned to show a hefty amount of chest hair on his muscled chest.

They both have glitter on their cheekbones, which glint in the light outside of the club as they talk to each other, not having noticed you yet.

They look kinda ridiculous.

But hey, opposites attract you guess.

You know you are stuck until they notice you. You can’t just leave, there’s too many people in line, it would take forever to get everyone in if there was just one bouncer. So, you are forced by the universe to stay put, watching as your soulmates get closer and closer, even as much as you want them to go further and further away. (Though your body screams for the complete opposite.)

When they are just a few people away, Logan catches your gaze. His eyes narrow, before flicking down to Wade, pushing at his arm, directing his attention to you instead of him. Wade grins as he spots you, you can tell because he pulls the bandana down to his neck instead.

“Oh heyyyy.” Wade drags out, grinning, while Logan watches you, saying nothing.

“This doesn't seem like your scene.”

“Not like you would know that, little pookie, you need to know people to know where they like to have fun.” There’s a shot of bitterness in Wade’s tone and your bond, but it’s gone before you can dwell on it as Wade keeps looking at you, unashamedly checking you out.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, just go inside.” You gesture for them to walk past you as you open the rope in front of the club door, but both of them stay put.

“Not gonna check ID’s?” Wade grins, fluttering his eyelashes, the only kind of hair he has (you assume). You and Logan snort in unison.

“Neither of you look 20.” And you don’t doubt both of them could get a fake ID with ease.

“Not interested in seeing our ages pookie?”

“Not in the slightest. Now get the fuck inside before I change my mind and keep you out here.”

“You say that like being here with you is a threat and not a treat.” Wade winks, but walks past you to go inside. Logan follows right behind him, giving you a quick once over.

“What was that?” The other bouncer leans over to half-whisper after you’ve let a few more people in.

“It’s complicated.”

“They trouble?”

“Only for my own sanity.” It’s with great annoyance you realize your shoulders feel just a tad lighter.

—---

A few hours later, you have moved from the door and are making the rounds through the club. People going in have slowed, meaning you are not needed outside anymore. It feels good to be moving, even as your body aches and hurts.

The club is packed inside, the loud and rhythmic music making sure the dance floor is crowded with people in varying states of drunkenness. There’s probably some other substances too, but people are behaving for now, as your eyes scan the crowd you spot nothing that you need to stop.

As you walk through the edge of the crowd, you slowly become aware that your bond is more open, as something starts to filter through the low, but constant, hum of the bonds.

It’s not something you can immediately identify. It’s certainly something you’ve felt before, it’s just been a while, and you’ve never felt it this clearly through the bond before. A hint here and there, but you can hardly blame them for being human.

It’s desire. Arousal. Lust. Horny, if you are going to be slightly less fancy about it.

You feel your cheeks heat up, and sigh as you rub your forehead. You close your eyes, letting the bond guide you for the briefest of moments.

It takes a couple of tries of you closing your eyes for you to be led to a metal door in a corner next to the bar marked “Employees Only” in red letters. The lights of the club dance over the letters as you push the door open, and the music spills out into the alley before you let the door fall closed behind you. There’s not much here, just the concrete steps you are standing on, a couple of dumpsters, a wooden bench with an ashtray drilled into the armrest. And two people pressed against the brickwall of the neighboring building.

“You guys should not be here.” Wade pulls away from Logan, turning his head to look over his own shoulder, grinning. His hands are in Logan’s hair, Logan’s hands are on his hips, neither of them let go of the other.

“Pookie! Fancy meeting you here!” You scowl at Wade, then meet Logan’s own scowling face, before he hides his face in Wade’s shoulder, but you do catch the beginning of a smirk before it's hidden from view.

“See peanut! I told you he would feel it.” Absent-mindedly you notice the glitter has moved from just Wade’s cheekbone to his lips as well, and his neck, just above where his bandana now sits.

“Feel what?” Wade ignores the question for a moment, kissing the top of Logan’s head. The bond still isn’t fully closed, as you feel another wave of arousal wash over you, making you take a deep breath. It feels strange, like it wants to settle in your gut, but just flows through you. “Well, now at least we know our bonds aren’t platonic! Well, we knew ours wasn’t-” Wade ruffles Logan’s hair, you see his hands clench Wade’s waist tighter “-but now we know for all of us! How exciting.”

You don’t know that to say to any of this, you rarely do, so you revert back to old habits.

“Like I said, you shouldn’t be here.” A brief spike of disappointment, then your bond is finally blessedly quiet again. Wade grins, but it’s a lot less teasing than earlier in the night.

“Ohhh, I like it when you get all bossy. Gonna start manhandling us? You are more than welcome to.” Wade keeps the grin on his face, Logan shakes his head against his shoulder. Or he’s rubbing against it, you are not sure.

“I will call the fucking cops.” Wade sticks out his tongue at you.

“Party pooper. Come one peanut, let's go home.” Wade plants one last quick kiss on Logan before turning towards you, dislodging Logan’s hands from his hips, taking one of them in his own. “At least you are a lot less stabby tonight.”

“I am unarmed.” Wade gasps, overly dramatic. You don’t even know why you offer up that tidbit. Not like it was hard to guess with your outfit though.

“Oh my god, our baby is naked. Quick, cover your eyes!” He moves his hands back towards Logan’s face, Logan smacks them away with a grunt.

“I am not yours anything, and quit it with those fucking nicknames. There’s no way to hide anything in these dress pants.”

“No, you can indeed not hide a lot in those.” Both of their eyes wander over your form, you feel anger rise, and push it through both of their bonds.

“Again, I will call the cops.”

“Again, party pooper.” Wade retorts, but drags Logan with him towards the door. You swear you feel him brush against you when he goes past, but by the time you process the light touch and turn around to look at him, all you see is their backs before the door shuts behind them.

You stay behind, breathing in and out through your nose. Calming yourself down, the usual background hum of your bond fraying at your nerves.

Fuck, your body hurts. But for a moment the pain had eased.

You shove your hands in your pockets, surprised when your fingers feel different fabric.

Fishing it out, you are met with the sight of Wade’s bandana in your hand. You stare at it. It’s soft, there’s little horses on it in a darker shade of pink.

You ball it up in a fist and stare at the door to the bar.

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 4 months ago

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Do you have any more stories like Cool Story, Bro? Not that stiles is a twin, but that he's pining and feels inferior and there's miscommunications? Or like, Derek is trying to date stiles, but it's a little difficult when stiles thinks it's only fuckbuddies?

Btw, should've lead with this, BUT Y'ALL ARE FREAKING AWESOME!!!

AND

Anonymous asked:

Can you reccomend some sterek fics where they're both head over heels for each other but are too dumb to notice its mutual

AND

Anonymous asked:

hi!! do you have any fic recs where stiles is oblivious to how attractive he is? it’s my absolute favorite trope when he has no idea the effect he’s got on people. thank you guys for all of the work you do it is insanely impressive!!!

Let's find out!

How To Make a Werewolf not Hate You (side affects may include love). by AlexTheShipper

(1/1 I 3,189 I Explicit)

Derek is trying to hold out for his soul mate Genim and refuses to fall for Stiles and his cute moles. Stiles thinks Derek hates him.

Are you in love or something? by yumelilo

(1/1 I 4,489 I Teen)

Derek Hale was just chilling in his new apartment, minding his own business, when Stiles Stilinski decided to pay him a visit in his summer break from College.

- "Dude, seriously, The Weepies?", Stiles commented on the soft tones coming from Derek's sound system. "I always took you for the heavy metal and hard rock guy...", he mused. Derek huffed a laugh, but kept his face partially hidden. "What are you doing here Stiles?", he asked. The unspoken 'How the fuck did you get keys to my new place?' heavily implied. He heard the human sigh long and suffering, like the idea of answering Derek's question would physically hurt him in a way.

A Question of Pack by CawCawMF

(1/1 I 5,291 I Teen)

Stiles had always been sure of his place in the pack. That place being the absolute lowest tier in the hierarchy of werewolf pack dynamics, but he was sure of it all the same. He wasn’t necessary exactly, since just about anyone could conduct research on supernatural mythology, but his job was still important to the pack and he felt good about that. At least, that’s what he always thought. That all came crumbling down one sunny afternoon in the form of Jackson’s big mouth.

Give me a fucking break. Preferably yesterday. by KinimiB

(4/10 I 7,487 I Not Rated)

Stiles knew that if you asked who's easiest to repleace or most useless in pack, the answer would be quick and always the same. Stiles, ordinary, clumsy human. He knew that, everybody did, but it was just an unspoken rule not to say it out loud.

Until it wasn't.

You're It For Me by RageBiter

(1/1 I 7,960 I Mature)

Derek gets cursed by a witch so every time he's too far from Stiles he endures extreme amounts of pain, not that that's any different from usual. Stiles has to stay at Derek's loft and they get closer than Stiles ever though they'd be. Derek's forced to tell Stiles the secret he's been keeping from him since they met. He and Stiles are mates.

I'm a War of Head Versus Heart by NieR

(5/10 I 23,091 I Explicit)

Being FWB with Derek Hale is great. Awesome, even.

But somehow, somewhere along the way, Stiles thinks he might have fallen in love.

And, well, shit.

don't know what i'm supposed to do (haunted by the ghost of you) by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli)

(1/1 I 30,926 I Teen)

Stiles sees dead people. Yep. Seriously.

(He’s got this. He’s totally got this. So what if one of them is Derek’s mom?)

If You Wanna Be My Roomie (Lover) by orphan_account

(23/23 I 65,056 I Explicit)

Realistically, Stiles knew that the local University's popularity and commonality meant that many members of his graduating high school class would be starting the Fall 2016 semester alongside him, but he never expected his longtime crush to be one of them. Even more so, he never expected said crush to be assigned as his roommate...oh boy.

You're stronger than you know by Littleredridinghunter

(15/15 I 234,195 I Not Rated)

The pack are letting him down again, his dad is not speaking to him, his life is just generally falling apart.

Until he has to get a bronze dagger to kill a siren and his whole world gets flipped on it's head!

My summaries are rubbish but I hope you'll still give it a chance!

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #cursed!derek #pining #misunderstanding #pining!stiles #oblivious!stiles #insecure!stiles

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fictionalreads · 4 months ago

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This Was Never Meant to Be What It Feels Like (Part 3)

A/N: Heeeeeeey...How y'all doing?....I know it's been a couple weeks when I said days but a part of this just did not want to be written! Also, this one is a bit of a beast, just over 5,200 words. This is the final part of this lil mini series, I hope y'all enjoy and the conclusion is satisfying for you guys.

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Armando Aretas x Original Female Character

Fandom: Bad Boys Movies

Prompt: Mike gets a couple visits, Shay has some news and Armando makes a decision.

Warnings⚠️: Cussing, Mentions of bad parental relationships, uh.... I think that's it for this one.

Mike Lowrey was no stranger to being called into back rooms for an off the books meeting. What was unusual was the CBI agent waiting for him when last time he checked none of the cases he had been part of lately had anything to warrant federal attention. Well, besides the one with his son but he had been cleared almost a full year ago now and Julie had corroborated his story. Nah, this was something new.

“Officer Lowrey, I’m Agent Garrett with the California Bureau of Investigations. Please have a seat.” She was standing at her full height on the other side of the table while gesturing to one of two chairs in the room, the only one near him. He saw straight through her bullshit tactics to make him feel like she was in charge and had the upper hand.

“It’s Detective Lowrey and think I’ll stand. Now why don’t you cut the shit and tell me what the hell you want.” Her jaw tensed and he just barely managed to hold back a smirk. She wouldn’t get what she wanted by using the same perp tricks he had been using when she was still in diapers. You can’t bullshit the bullshitter.

Coming clean, she began, “I’ve been put in charge of running a task force out in LA, similar to your AMMO squad here. Our goal is to find and stop cartel drug from entering the country, maybe stop a few murders while we’re at it.”

So this was about Armando, just more recently than he thought. Damn son of his was definitely payback for the hell he raised when he was younger. If he was back on his shit, he might not be able to help him this time.

“Sounds like a good idea. I wish you luck,�� he stated, feigning ignorance as to what this was really about.

“Your son Armando Aretas has many connections on the west coast that could be useful. Figured I could use him to knock down some of my open cases.”

She clearly had found out their connection, but he still wasn’t sure what she wanted from him. “I don’t know if you’ve been watching the news lately, but my son isn’t here in Miami. He’s been on the run for the better part of a year. I don’t know where he is.”

“You’re his father.” Agent Garrett takes the chair on her side of the table. “If anybody could find him, it’d be you. You’d know where to look right?” The flattery, the subtle leading questions to confirm what she believed and the sitting gave her away.

She was desperate.

If he had to guess, those open case files were all big cases that had her boss breathing down her neck. She’d probably been given an ultimatum with her job on the line and now she was desperate to do anything that would get her back on top, including working with a wanted man.

Mike sat. “What are the terms?”

“Terms?”

“What does Armando get in exchange for helping you?”

She looked at him in disbelief. “Terms are you don’t go to prison for aiding and abetting a murderer and he doesn’t get a bullet in his head immediately. Don’t know if you know this but cops aren’t a big hit in prison and I’m betting that’s especially true for you.”

“Don’t fucking insult me, please. Aiding and abetting implies I know where he is and I’m actively helping him. I’ve already told you I don’t know where he is. But like you said I’m your best shot at finding him. I’m also your best chance at not getting your men killed and losing him again. I’m not doing this shit without some assurances on his end. So I’ll ask again. What does he get for helping you?”

She shook her head. “You know when I came up with this whole thing, I did my my research on you. Figured I should know who I was getting into bed with. Everything I read told me you were one hell of a cop, always got your guy and made Miami just that much safer. Are you, this great cop, really going to bat for a murderer like him?”

That was where her approach was faulty. She was trying to appeal to his cop side, but he was a father first. “No, I, a father, am protecting my son.”

“I can offer him protective custody, knock some time off his sentence depending on how fruitful his tips are.” She offered lightly.

Too lightly. This was her throwaway offer, the one she knew was shit but was hoping he’d take anyway. So he called her bluff.

“He won’t come in for that. He had that deal with me already. All the shit that went down last year? The bodies dropped had to be put on someone and he got ‘em since he was a convicted felon, one that was alive and a part of the mess. Not to mention he ran off and became a fugitive. He’s looking at almost double what his sentence was when I arrested him. You’ll have to do better.”

Agent Garrett seemed to be debating with herself. She let out a heavy breath,”I’ve been authorized to grant him a special deal.”

Now they were getting somewhere.

“What kind of deal?”

“The kind that puts my ass on the line.”

Something about this whole interaction was bugging him. “Tell me something. Why are you willing to put your badge on the line for someone you clearly can’t stand?”

“I don’t trust Aretas. But this isn’t about me. Its about making my city safer. His intel could be the key to shutting down major operations. He has connections everywhere, and that’s what I care about. I’m not putting myself on the line for him, I’m doing it for my city.”

“You sure you’re not doing it for your bosses? They up yo ass about getting shit done?”

“I proposed using Aretas. They were against it. Said we were cleaning up just fine but I’m tired of cleaning up after the fact and only getting low level dealers. I want to cut this thing off at the head.”

“At the end of the day that’s my son. I need to know that somebody has his back. Why should I trust that that’s you?”

“Like I said this is my proposal. My bosses made it clear that if he fails I fail. He gives me the wrong intel, he leads us astray, he turns on us, I’m fired. I’m just as invested in his success because I have something to lose too.”

“What’s the offer?”

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

“Hi, I’m looking for Mike Lowrey?” Shay swallowed down the feeling of nausea, hoping it was just the nerves making her feel this way.

“He’s not in at the moment, but I’m his wife Christine. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Shay hesitates. Could she do anything? Hell she wasn’t sure what this Mike Lowrey could do for her either. She flew all the way to Miami, and for what? Some detective Armando had left the name of in case she needed help? This was a bad idea. She knew he was a cop, and after looking him up a supposedly good one, but how could she trust him when he socialized with a murderer? Ignoring her own dalliances with the man, she could only think about the fact that Detective Mike Lowrey had sworn to arrest people like Armando, not be someone they trusted.

She felt overwhelmed for the millionth time in the past month and a half and was debating just leaving when Christine offered, “why don’t you come in? Mike should be home soon and you can wait inside for him instead of in the heat.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the heat, Christine's sweet voice coupled with the endearing British accent or the way her face screamed warmth, but she found herself saying, “yeah. Yeah okay.”

Christine opened the door wider for her to enter and Shay marveled at the inside of the house as much as she had the outside. This guy was definitely a dirty cop. There was no way he was able to afford this on a detective’s salary. What the hell was she getting herself into?

“Please have a seat,” she gestured towards the couch. It looked like it was more for the aesthetic than actual use but she was pleasantly surprised to find it very comfortable. “Would you like something to drink? I have water and that disgusting stuff my husband calls sweet tea,” Christine joked.

“Water is fine,” she replied with a smile. Shay watched as Christine stepped past a wall into what she assumes was the kitchen. The creeping sensation of nausea hit her once more. Digging in her purse and finding a ginger chew, she didn’t see Christine come back in the room with a bottle of water. Almost instantaneously she felt relief, so maybe it was all psychosomatic. Just her nerves going haywire.

“How far along are you?” Shay startled at the question.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.

“It’s okay. What makes you think I’m pregnant?”

“I saw the chew and just assumed.”

She didn’t believe that for a second. “Some assumption based off just a ginger chew. What if I just like them?”

“Honestly the chew was just the cherry on top for my assumption. You hold yourself the same way my sister held herself when she was pregnant for the first time. A bit unsure, scared definitely, but ready for war all the same.”

Well, damn. She didn’t know she gave off that much with just how she stood.

Ignoring how unexpectedly open she felt, she answered Christine’s question from before.“Thirteen weeks.” Suddenly Shay realized how this could look, a random pregnant woman showing up looking for her husband and not telling her what she wants, so she quickly explained. “It’s not your husband’s!”

Christine laughed brightly, “Oh darling the thought never crossed my mind. Mike may have once been that guy, but he’s not anymore. He’s a good man.” Shay kept her doubts to herself.

“Christine? Who’s car is that out front?” The man she assumed to be Mike Lowrey was juggling a duffle bag and struggling to get his keys out of the door, not once looking in their direction.

Smirking like it was a game, Christine replied, “It’s a rental.”

“Why do we need a rental?” He finally looked up, noticing Shay in the room. She could see his guard go right back up.

“Mike, this is Shay. She was hoping to speak with you,” his wife explained to him.

“Do I know you?” He was blunt but not unkind with his words, something she hoped would continue in their conversation.

“Mike!” Christine admonished before turning to Shay with, “Please, excuse Mike. He can bring his interrogation tactics into other parts of his life sometimes.”

“It’s okay. If a random woman showed up saying she needed to speak to me, I’d probably question it too.” She was hoping her understanding would get her some traction and not immediately thrown out when he found out why she was here.

Mike still held caution in his face. “So…?” He left the obvious question unspoken, wondering who she was and why she was here in his home.

Shay paused. She wasn’t sure how to bring it up and didn’t want to say anything in front of his wife in case she truly had no clue her husband was a dirty cop. She may have been desperate enough to find this guy, but she wasn’t going to be the one to ruin this poor woman’s marriage.

Luckily Christine picked up on her reluctance to speak in front of an audience and excused herself. “I’m going to head upstairs for a moment, give you two some time to talk.”

While Shay relaxed, Mike tensed. Once Christine was gone, he questioned her. “Who the hell are you and what do you want?”

“I was told if I ever needed anything, I should find you.”

Mike carefully focused his attention on sitting his duffle near the armchair, going to take a seat himself. He might not be looking directly at her anymore, but she knew all of his attention was on her as he spoke. “Who the fuck told you that? Better yet, why my house? Why not meet me in the station?”

Ignoring the second question, she replied, “Armando Aretas.”

Mike’s head snapped back to her. She was almost concerned for his neck with how fast he moved.

Continuing at his silence she said, “I figured you wouldn’t want to discuss him at work.”

“What about him?”

“He was in LA a few months ago.”

He first whispered to himself, “Dumbass don’t listen.” Then he spoke louder, clearly to her this time, “What does this have to do with you and why you’re here?”

She wasn’t sure where to start. How does one tell a dirty cop working for one’s murderer baby daddy that you need him to tell said baby daddy you were pregnant? “We were…together. I’m pregnant now.” She hoped he would catch on without her spelling it out but he didn’t.

Instead, Mike blinked. “What?” A million unidentifiable emotions ran over his face before he carefully shut it down, facing her with no emotion at all now.

“I am with child, in the family way, carrying a bun in the oven, whatever you want to call it.” There was still no response from him so she continued her rant, “look I’m not asking for him to come back or pay for anything. I’m fully prepared to take care of this kid myself, but not even trying to tell him was weighing on my conscience. So I figured if I found you like he said, you could pass on the message for me. I just need to be able to know I did everything I could to let him know.”

She had prepared for a lot of responses to her plea. Anger on Armando’s behalf, a dismissal, hell even laughter at her audacity, but his next words were ones she somehow missed in her spiral. “I’m not in contact with him.”

Shay tried not to be hurt at his response, not for herself, but for her baby. Okay, well a little bit for herself. She was in love with the man-yes, still- and knowing he truly didn’t leave a way to contact him again crushed the little bit of hope his note had left behind. Why would he send her to Mike if it wasn’t a way to get in touch with him? “So why would he tell me to find you?”

A pause.

“Armando’s my son.”

The statement was so far from what she was expecting to hear that she paused. “Wait so you don’t…you don’t work for him? With him? Whatever.”

Mike laughed loudly, “nah, I don’t work in that world. I stand by the badge.”

“So how did he…?” She trailed off, confused.

“Look our situation is…complicated, but if he sent you in my direction I’m gonna help you in any way I can. I mean, I’d love to get to know you and be in my grandchild’s life if you’ll let me.” His words were reminiscent of the night she had asked Armando about his family. He too had called his relationship with his father complicated.

Despite the unknown of it all, his offer was partly the reason she had found Mike. A family for her child, something she never really had. “Yeah. Yeah I’d like that.” It may not be exactly what she was looking for, but she would take what she could get. At least her baby would have some connection to their father’s side of the family. But she still had a question, one that had no answer now that her assumptions were corrected.

“So if you aren’t dirty, how do you afford living like this?”

Mike let out a laugh louder than the one from before. “I’m a trust fund kid. Never really had to work but all I’ve ever wanted was to be a cop.”

“Sounds like one hell of a trust fund,” she scoffed.

Turning serious he impressed, “One that continues to grow from a few investments made along the way. This kid will have that same freedom. They’ll be able to do whatever they want in life and never have to worry about money.”

That statement alone almost made her cry. She didn’t have much growing up, wondering if she and her mother would even be able to eat everyday. When she had found out she was pregnant, despite making more money than her mother did she found herself worrying her child would have those same experiences.

She may not have Armando, a partner she’d hoped to have, but he had made sure she had everything she needed.

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Habitual but flexible.

That was Armando’s motto. Habitual in the precautions he took but flexible enough everywhere else to not create patterns. Patterns were how you got caught, and Armando refused to be put in another cage. He always double checked his locks when he left his place, checked his surroundings before leaving and arriving at his place so as not to run into his neighbors. The less people who could identify him the better.

Which is why seeing his door wide open as he turned onto his street was so unsettling.

Normally he would just leave town, dump this alias and start over with another elsewhere, but there were a few things he didn’t want to part with. Upon his first return to Mexico, he had managed to find his mother’s emergency stash and in it was a photo of the two of them before he was forced out of the prison when he turned six. Despite his conflicted feelings on his mother’s choices and the lies she told him, he still loved her and this was all he had left of her.

If she were around she’d chastise his sentimentality.

He also had a letter his father had written him when he left Miami that he kept because even with the complexity of their relationship, he still wished he’d had the opportunity to get to know him. He wished he could have done things differently. That letter may be his only chance to know his father, even a little bit.

The last thing was a photo of Shay. He had taken it one morning before he left on a polaroid camera she had lying around. The sun had been rising and he remembered wishing what they had could be real, that he could stay in bed and wake up with her instead of having to run out and lie all the time. It was the only thing he had left of the only relationship he’d ever have again.

So he weighed his options. Either he went in and fought whoever was there, grabbed his things and hopefully made it out in time to not get caught, or he left now and hoped whoever it was left without calling for backup so he could get his things before leaving town. He either risked his freedom or he risked losing the only items that reminded him of his humanity forever.

He pulled his gun and carefully made his way into the apartment he’d called home for a couple weeks.

“Don’t shoot, it’s just me.”

Armando relaxed, but kept his gun in his hand. “What are you doing here Detective?” His tone was snippy, as though his father speaking to him was a bother. He knew that wasn’t true, but it was like he couldn’t help the animosity that came out when he spoke to his father. No matter how much he’d love to try with the man, he’d just get so angry about it all that it came out confrontational.

“What? A man can’t see his son?” Mike didn’t rise to the obvious bait of his tone, instead trying to lighten the mood with a tease.

Armando simply raised an eyebrow at the deflection. “Not when that man is a decorated detective and his son is a fugitive,” he coldly stated. He needed to know what Mike wanted so he could get on with his life. Who knows how many eyes are on the man, he was risking Armando’s freedom, not that he seemed to care. Irritated at the lack of concern for him, he accused, “you risked the badge once just to let me go, you won’t risk it again, not even for me. It means too much to you.” I don’t mean enough to you went unsaid but not unheard.

“Armando I’d risk everything for you.” The fight left Mike, and he sighed, finding a seat on the edge of the bed. “You’re my son and I know I’m not the best at showing it, but that shit means something to me. Our relationship means something to me. I didn’t have the best relationship with my father so I told myself I wouldn’t have kids cause I didn’t want to repeat the cycle. But then I found out about you. And despite the fact that circumstances made it so it isn’t easy, I still don’t want the cycle to be repeated. I love you man. I’ll do whatever you need me to, to prove that to you. Including walking away if you say no to my proposal.”

There it was. The real reason he was here now, he needed something like always. Armando put his gun away in exasperation. He was so tired of just being used that he couldn’t help but get a jab in. “Whatever man. This don’t mean shit to you. It’s all transactional for you, I’m good enough to help you get what you want and that’s why you come around. So what is it this time?”

“Is that what you think? That I don’t care about you?” What the hell else was he supposed to think?

“If you did, you would have come to see me in prison without needing my help on a case.” He argued before quietly following up with, “I would have been enough of a reason to visit.” He hated when this stupid hurt boy routine flared up. He looked weak, like una puta.

Mike stood and stepped close to Armando. Refusing to back down, Armando met his stare head on, ignoring the way his throat was getting tight and tears were pooling in his eyes. “Armando I never needed you on those cases. I knew that if I could get intel from you and put you down on paper, it would help you out. I was trying to help.” He blinked and a single tear made its way down his face. It was too much now and he had to look away.

Mike placed a hand on his shoulder, continuing, “I love you. Nothing is more real than that. If I had known you would take my help as me using you, I never would’ve asked for your help.”

Facing his father once more, Armando spoke lowly, “Si lo hubieras sabido, ¿te habría importado?” He didn’t explain what he meant, knowing his father understood what he was asking.

“Nada me hubiera importado más.” Mike asserted.

He nodded, finally having an answer to the question that had been burning inside him. He focused on the reason Mike was in front of him, not the emotions his answer stirred in him. “What’s the proposal?” He asked much more calmly this time around.

“LAPD is starting up a team like AMMO. They were hoping to recruit you to be a part of it, use your knowledge to help stop cartel drugs from entering the states.”

“And go back in a cage? No I’m good.” He shook his head, a clear no coming from him.

“You wouldn’t be arrested again, you’d be put up in an apartment. Free to walk the city after an initial probationary period of just work and home. After that, there would be twenty-four hour surveillance, random drug tests and check-ins. Eventually you would become a private citizen.”

It sounded like a trap. “If I don’t give them what they want I get arrested right?”

“Yeah, but I have all the faith you’ll be great at it. Plus I made sure it was as ironclad for you as possible.”

“Why would I agree to this? Sounds like a lot could go wrong and land me back in prison. If that happens I’m never getting out again.”

“You aren’t the killer your mother made you into. You only did any of it because she fueled you with rage and ideas of revenge before she pointed you at a target. If you were really a killer, you would’ve killed me anyway. You live by a code, and only do what’s necessary. No more, no less.”

Sometimes when he was feeling really low he’d think about what his life would have been like if he’d had a normal life. Would he have chosen violence anyway? He’d like to think he’d hav e chosen to protect. Maybe be a firefighter or an EMT cause he was still an adrenaline junkie, but maybe he wouldn’t have to hurt anybody. If his father was saying the same thing he thought, then maybe he could believe it to be true. Before he could think on it, his father spoke once more, shifting his whole world.

“Besides, Shay’s pregnant. We not giving another generation of Lowrey these bullshit daddy issues.”

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Six Months Later

“Marcus we ain’t got time for that shit.”

“I just asked the man a question!”

“No, you used the question as a cover to try and buy some damn skittles.”

“Oh so now you the skittle police? I thought we worked narcotics?”

“Yo ass ain’t supposed to have that shit and you know it. Don’t try to make it out like I’m the one that’s going overboard.”

“Aye Mike what would they call the skittle department? The rainbow division? Don’t worry everybody! Mike Lowry is working the rainbow!”

“That’s homophobic.”

“It’s the slogan! What else would it be called Mike?”

“Why the fuck are you here?”

“Man fuck you-“

“Your presence really wasn’t needed-“

“I’m just trying to be a good friend-“

“This is a moment for my family-“

“And now I’m not family to you?!”

“You called my family fucked up remember?”

“Yo son was tryna kill us and his mama was gonna let us burn in a fire!”

“Are you pendejos done?”

“Mike! That mean assholes right?”

“Yeah he just called us assholes. But Imma let it slide cause he got to be high on that new father shit to call me an asshole.”

“Nah I just think he don’t respect you. That’s what you get for not raising him. My boys would never.”

“Marcus!”

Shay knew this could devolve again if she didn’t get their attention. “Guys! Do you want to meet her?”

The men focused their attention on the baby Shay was holding against her chest. Marcus visibly melted at the sight, Mike simply softening his shoulders with a small smile.

Armando joined Shay, leaning on the bed using a finger to trace down their daughter’s arm. When he spoke, he kept his eyes on his daughter. “This is Amada Rose Lowrey.”

“Lowrey?”Mike coughed.

Armando shrugged. “I wasn’t actually an Aretas, I was supposed to be a Lowrey. Figured she and I could claim our real family name.”

Mike nodded. “That’s cool man. Real cool,” he choked out.

“Awe Mike,” Marcus cried.

“Mm-mm Marcus. Stop it right now.”

“But Mike he’s taking your last name!”

Ignoring his bumbling partner, Mike walks over to Shay, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “How you doing Mama?”

“Extremely sore, but happy.”

“Well you did good, she’s beautiful.”

“You wanna hold her?”

Knowing his father’s aversion to holding babies, he goads hims, “Yeah Papa, wanna hold her?”

Surprising them all, he said, “You know what? I will.”

Shay handed her daughter over to Mike, making sure he supported her head correctly.

Armando joined Shay on the bed and wrapped her in his arms now that she wasn’t holding the baby. He simply watched his father holding and whispering to his baby girl with fond eyes, knowing his daughter would know nothing but love and presence from the man. They would have a real relationship right from the start. He and Mike themselves had been working on things, talking through the lies and anger and getting to a better place.

“How’s work? They give you any time off?” Marcus asked him.

In the end there hadn’t been a choice. He was going to be present in his child’s life, no matter what and sneaking into LA would just get riskier every time he did it. If he didn’t get caught just trying to get to his family, he would’ve gotten caught because if how much he would’ve been there to see them. And he’d be damned if he was raising his child from behind bars so he took Agent Garrett up on her offer.

He turned to face his uncle, replying, “Good, we wrapped a case a day before Shay went into labor. I’ll have about a couple weeks at home with the girls before I’m expected back.”

It had somewhat surprised him how seriously Marcus had taken to being his uncle. The man was supportive of his new role with the LAPD and called almost as often as his father did, checking in and making sure he was being safe. Seeing him at the hospital now wasn’t a shock at all.

“I’m just glad they gave him any time at all,” Shay interrupted. As his employment with the LAPD wasn’t under normal circumstances, he wasn’t sure if they’d grant him time at home with his girls. Agent Garrett had stuck her neck out for him once again and gotten him twelve days exactly.

Armando leaned down and kissed her, forever grateful for the woman who stood by his side despite his past. She had lost a couple friends when they found out who he was, the ones that stayed had definitely judged her and never truly came around to him as a person. She never wavered though, taking it all with grace and holding his hand as they planed for their future. He couldn’t wait to ask her to marry him.

Amada let out a cry, disrupting his internal debate on the pros and cons of asking her right that moment. He knew it probably meant she was hungry again, so he shifted his hold on Shay so she could get the b baby again and feed her.

“I think that’s a cry for mommy,” Mike chimed as he passed the baby back.

“Yeah Mike you ain’t got the right equipment,” Marcus tossed out.

Mike turned to Marcus incredulously. “Now why would you say some dumb shit like that?”

“You don’t!”

Armando turned his attention from the bickering men, whispering to his little family, “Here they go.”

Honestly, though? He wouldn’t trade his family for nothing.

A/N: Don't forget to leave a comment or reblog/like! What did we think? I have a few other ideas in mind for Armando but I'm not sure how they'll play out, so I'm CAUTIOUSLY open to prompt from you guys for drabbles. Please keep in mind that I can't do smut.😅

Translations:

Una Puta - A bitch

Si lo hubieras sabido, ¿te habría importado? - If you had known, would you have cared?

Nada me hubiera importado más. -Nothing would have mattered to me more.

Pendejos - Assholes

Taglist:

@yeahnohoneybye @bootlegroach @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful

#armando aretas #Armando x ofc #Armando aretas x ofc #mike lowrey #marcus burnett #original female character #christine lowrey #fan fiction #minors dni #Jacob scipio #bad boys ride or die #bad boys for life

146 notes · View notes

bigassmoonchild · 1 year ago

Text

Mirrors

Pairing: Captain John Price x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Price and the 141 join forces with another special forces team, tracking down a known mercenary and trying to protect a much-hated political figure. Price gets distracted by the captain he's working with.

Content Tags: Smut, Mentions of Violence, Some fluff, Oral Sex (M Receiving), Fingering, Slight Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, PiV Sex, Dom! Price, Slightly Mean Price, Mirror Sex

A/N: I'm really spoiling y'all. I probably won't post this frequently in the future, I've just been in a writing mood. It'll turn out to be once every Friday and/or Saturday. As always, content is under the cut and my asks are open <3.

"Hey Price, how are we going to know who to not shoot if shit goes down?" Soap asked through the comms, Price looking out the windows to try and find the man. He took a sip of the drink he was holding, watered down whiskey that he's been holding on to since they got there.

Price looked around the venue, counting the people working with him. "Anyone wearing red," his eyes landed on you. Bright red dress hugging your curves, a sly smile on your face as you spoke with someone. Your eyes never stopped moving, catching his for a second before moving on.

He kept looking around. Price could see the political figure they were sent to protect, some American whose head was on the black market. A few of your own soldiers were scattered around, some sitting at the bar, others chatting amongst themselves near entry points.

From the debriefing you'd given, it was a hit or miss when it came to whether or not he would be attempting to snipe the man or go in for a quick shot. So you'd gotten Ghost and Soap, alongside two of your own sharp-shooters to set up at vantage points along the outside of the high-rise, the rest would set up inside. It was your decision to mark the teams a color, just in case the sharp-shooters got confused within the confusion of someone causing a panic.

Price had liked you from the beginning. Quick witted and smart, letting him relax from taking the lead for once. He'd known you just under 24 hours and you intrigued him.

"You might want to stop staring, Price, it could lead to some unwanted attention," your voice came through the comms, and when he looked for you, you hadn't been in the same place you were just a few moments ago.

Your arm wrapped around his, giggling a little but staring through him.

"Seriously, the guy in white has been watching me for a few minutes now, and I don't think he just wants to buy me a drink," you shifted just a bit, allowing Prices head to move in the direction the guy you'd been talking about. Price gave a fake laugh, pulling you in closer to him, watching the man turn away.

Price looked down at you. "Do you think he knows?" You looked away for a moment, giving a faint shrug at that. "Is he someone from your past?" You grimaced slightly. "Oh lord, do tell," he smiled slightly.

You pulled back a bit, giving a small face. "He was wanted a few years back for attempted murder on some big guy, he got the military sent after him and we were who got sent. He really didn't like that, especially when he was released with no connections to the crime," you glanced back slightly, eyes flittering to find the man, but he seemed to disappear.

Price looked as well, but couldn't find him, so his eyes found yours again and tugged you a little closer.

"You know what?" You hummed in response. "I don't quite think I've seen someone quite as beautiful as you," you snorted, shaking your head.

"Very forward, aren't you?" You smiled at him. He gave a shrug, eyes looking over you. "As much as I appreciate the compliment, I do think your pretty little eyes should be looking elsewhere," you whispered to him.

Price found himself looking over your head, finding Gaz giving him an interesting look before gazing away. "We both know how often we have time for interesting people, might as well take the time we have, huh?" You rolled your eyes a little, sliding your hands up his chest.

"I can't help but agree with that sentiment, John," you smiled, spinning in his arms and gazing out across the room. "I think it'll seem a little suspicious that we're standing together so long, so I'll be back to 'flirting' with whoever will talk to me," you used air quotes, rolling your eyes softly before disappearing back amongst the crowd. Price gave a small laugh, taking another sip of the watered down whiskey and glancing back around the room.

A few more men walked in, all wearing white as well. This caught his attention, watching as they met up with the first man. He watched you spin slightly towards them, keeping the group of guys in your line of sight. You gave Price a small glance over your glass, looking back at the men and he tilted his head back, going to take a sip from his glass to cover his mouth.

"Keep an eye on the men in white," affirmatives were given to him over the comms, and he could see a few of your own men shifting themselves to get an eye on the group.

The group of them had started to surround the man the group of you were hired to protect, and you watched as a few of your own men started to tense.

Your fingers twitched, making the men in your squad pause. Price watched as you stood, nearly gliding over to one of the new-comers and dragging him away, rubbing yourself on him and whispering something in his ear. Price could see the smirk from where he stood, watching as you guided him to a couch and your hand sliding to his neck.

Price assumed it was a tranq you hit him with, watching the man slump over before you stood. You gave the men a quick gesture, watching as the three others started to press in. Price placed the drink he'd never been able to finish on the table, pushing off and adjusting his sleeves as he moved in on them as well. It was when the man in the back pulled out a gun that any of you moved quicker.

"Hey!" You shouted, pulling a pistol from a holster on your thigh, aiming it straight for the man.

Through the chaos, Price couldn't see exactly what had happened. People had started running and screaming, shoving him around but he could hear a gunshot, quickly followed by the sound of glass breaking and bullets whistling by. The sounds of bodies dropping weren't slow to follow them, and Price kept pushing through the screaming crowd.

When he finally got through the crowd, he saw the three men on the ground, your pistol was lowered, staring down at the men now lying motionless with red staining their suits. You looked behind you and found Price, two of your men on your squad had come around to check the guys.

The guy you were protecting was shaken, and you turned your attention to him. You leaned in to him, arm on his shoulder and guiding him to a seat, getting him to sit down. Price looked back around, the area mostly deserted by civilians.

"Keep an eye out. We don't know if they're the only ones sent," he said through the comms, eyes still moving through the area. As much as Price tried to stop it, his eyes couldn't stop finding you. You were smiling and laughing with the man, and he felt pangs of jealousy.

Why? You were a colleague at this point, there was no reason to feel this way. You'd come and you'd go, just like the others he worked with. There was something different, though. You were beautiful, yes, but you had more personality than the others he'd worked with.

Especially the way you spoke with people, understanding and elegance with the way you talked. He appreciated a well-spoken person.

Price felt a touch on his arm, snapping out of his stupor and looking down at you. Your head jerked to the side, tugging him out of the room.

"He didn't even know he had a hit out on him," you started, finding a mirror hanging in the hall and looking yourself over. "Usually these kind of men believe that they're getting hunted, at all times, but he seems genuinely shaken," you looked at Price. "You think it's just a ruse?"

He had to think for a moment, eyes flittering over you. He leaned against the wall, rubbing his beard for a moment.

"I honestly think he's full of it," he gave you a smile and you huffed, rolling your eyes. Price leaned towards you, hands finding your hips. "Let's be honest, he hasn't got much going for him. I've seen his press, and it isn't pretty," you smiled, leaning towards him, arms sneaking up his chest.

"I'm sure he won't be the only one full of something this evening, like you said, we should take our chances when we can," you slid backwards, tugging him alongside with you, hands sliding into his and turning to find where you were intending to go.

Turning the corner, you opened the bathroom door and dragging him inside. Price locked it behind the two of you, watching as you continued walking, stopping in front of the sinks and mirrors. He stalked up to you, hands sliding along your hips and grabbing at your waist, pressing you into the sink.

He could feel you pressing back against him, sliding his arms up to unzip your dress. You slid the straps off of your arms and let the dress fall, unveiling your braless chest and simple panties, his eyes grazing across you through the mirror.

Spinning around, you dropped to your knees in front of him and palming him through his pants. He watched as you undid his belt, undoing his button and unzipping his pants. You gave a little smile, tugging his pants and briefs off of him.

John groaned, letting his head fall back as his hand found your head. He could feel your hand sliding along his cock before the heat of your mouth took him. Your tongue slid along his head before moving to take him deeper.

Your hand stroked what your mouth couldn't comfortably fit and he moaned with each suck, hand helping to guide you to a steady rhythm. When he looked down, your eyes were already searching for his. He couldn't help but let his mouth drop open with his moan, hand pushing for your mouth to move faster.

A short chuckle escaped him with the gag you let out, eyes scrunching shut as he started abusing the back of your throat. He watched as a few tears escaped your eyes, rolling down your cheeks before he tugged on your hair to pull your head off of him.

Your eyes stayed shut, a thin string of spit connecting you to him and he smiled at that. Price tugged you up, sitting you back on the sink and leaning in to suck and nip at your neck.

"You'll be a good girl for me, won't you?" He smiled into your neck, hand sliding down to push your panties to the side. He could feel how wet you were even through the cloth, and stroked from your clit to your opening, sliding a finger in.

Your head dropped back as you moaned, leaving your neck open to more attacks from his mouth. He sucked bruises into it, curling his finger into your g-spot and feeling your hand find his wrist, grasping it tightly.

Price chuckled, sliding another finger in, trying to stretch you out. He could feel you pulsing against his fingers, hand tugging at his wrist with each movement he made.

He nipped your neck. "Come on, sweet girl, beg for me," he whispered into your ear, watching as your eyes just barely opened and mouth closing before trying to talk. When you did, he added one more finger, watching your eyes roll back when he kept pumping against your g-spot, thumb sliding against your clit.

God, he could listen to your moans for hours, little whines close to his ear when he moved to continue nipping at your neck. He pulled his fingers out, tugging you off of the sink and bending you over it instead.

He stroked his cock along your folds, watching your head drop between your arms.

"Please," it was a whisper, slightly crackly from the moans you'd been giving him.

"Please, what?" He urged you on, feeling your hips grind back on him, trying to get him to slide in. John tugged your head back by your hair, making you look at him through the mirror. "I'm not doing anything until you ask me to, sweet girl," he leaned back up, holding your hips still.

You blinked at him, slow and thoughtless. "Please, Captain, fuck me. Need your cock in me, sir, please," and he pressed in, sliding slowly into you. He watched your mouth drop open and brows furrow, eyes struggling to remain open.

Bottoming out, John let his head fall back, moaning low in pleasure. Your cunt was spasming around his cock, pleasure pooling from where you could feel him pressed so deeply in you. Gasping moans fell from your mouth when he pulled back out, fingers finding your clit and stroking slow.

Not waiting too much longer, he started to quicken his pace, dropping your hair to pull your hips back to meet each of his thrusts. Your arms shook from holding yourself up and stopping yourself from moving too much with each thrust, head falling back between them. You finally shut your mouth, swallowing thickly around a moan.

You could feel your cunt begin to spasm, pleasure spreading through your gut and causing a few tears to fall. Each thrust stuttered your moans, your hands grasping the sink under you harder as you came, the pleasure making your legs buckle, leaving John as the only source holding you up.

He didn't stop his rampage on your clit, one of your hands finding his and trying to pull it back.

"No, you don't get to pull me away from your pretty little clit," he shoved you back over the sink, hand getting caught under your body and stopping you from moving it anymore. "I'll keep you cumming around me, sweetheart, and you'll take it," he whispered and flicked his fingers around you clit faster.

You could feel the tears pouring down your cheeks as your body jerked with each press of his cock on your g-spot, each time his fingers stroked on your clit.

Head dropping, John looked down at where he could feel you sucking him in, watching your cunt drag him back in each time he pulled out. Your little gaspy whines echoed in the bathroom, and he slid his hand along your back to grab at your ass.

"Such a good little thing for me, hmm?" He glanced at the mirror, seeing your eyes scrunched shut and feeling your hips begin to twitch with another orgasm. "Cumming again so soon?" John couldn't help but smile at that, giving your ass a smack and feeling your cunt spasm. With a chuckle, he regained his torture against your clit and picked the speed back up.

He leaned over you, biting at your neck and sucking another hickey into it, hearing you gasp into your orgasm and grow silent, your cunt spasming around his cock with each flick over your clit. You could feel the searing pleasure flow through you, sliding against the sink with each thrust.

Seemingly regaining your voice, you let out a high pitched moan and writhed against him. John could feel his own orgasm building up on him and he relented on your clit, grabbing your hips tightly with his hands, tugging your hips back into his thrusts before pulling out, stroking his cock until he came along your ass.

John took a moment to admire you, his cum coating your ass and your slick dripping down your thighs. He tucked himself back into his pants, grabbing a paper towel to clean you up and grabbing your dress, sliding it over you, helping you zip it up.

Wiping the mascara that dripped down your face, he gave you a small smile. "You doing okay?" And all you could do was nod, letting your head fall onto his chest. He stood there, arms wrapping around you and slowly rocking you.

"'m okay," you whispered, wrapping your own arms around him. His head dropped onto yours, letting his smile grow.

#smut #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john price x reader smut #captain john price #captain price #john price #task force 141 #Mentions of Ghost #Mentions of Gaz #Mentions of Soap #modern warfare ii #john price smut #call of duty x reader #I'm almost done with season 3 i need help #i havent finished my laundry #dom/sub #mirror sex

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befuddledcinnamonroll · 5 months ago

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I can't stop thinking about Thor's performance in Wandee Goodday.

I'd seen him in a few support roles, like in Boss and Babe, but this is the first time I've really had a chance to see him go deep into character. (This is where I have to confess that I haven't seen Warp Effect yet. Yes, I know this is a giant character flaw, please don't hate me).

But holy hell, y'all, this man can act.

Like, "reach into your chest and wrap his fingers around your heart" act.

In his scenes with Yak, even some of the lighter ones, you can feel the layers, the weight of the older brother who was forced to be a father, by a parent taken away, and a parent who ran. Who thinks that the way to take care of a family is to do the opposite of his father and to shoulder all of it, no matter how heavy, and to never ask for help, even if it breaks you.

And then there are the scenes with Cher, which are underlaid with once again that sense of responsibility, but also such love and vulnerability (and yes, a healthy dose of horniness).

Let's face it, there are a lot of actors who could make Yei a good character, but Thor has sunk his teeth into him and done something actually great. (Heh, pun not intended).

There are a lot of actors at GMMTV that I enjoy, a fair number that I adore, and many that I appreciate for their talents, for what they do and how they do it, but when it comes to my personal pantheon of The Top of GMMTV, my Big Three of Talent are

Gun Atthaphan

First Kanaphan

and Khaotung Thanawat

Only now I think I might have to make it a Big Four...

#wandee goodday #thor thinnaphan #this is mostly me manifesting a lead role for my boy #don't waste this talent gmmtv

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egg-but-with-style · 5 months ago

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HEADCANONS WITH THE BOYSSSS!!!!

My last post did pretty well, and if people like it, I figured I might as well try my hand at some more!!!!

Gaz

This guy literally has the best skin in the world, it's like looking at something carved from marble, everytime you ask about his skincare routine, he just says genetics.

He detests anything made with cinnamon, his older sister once made him try a pie she made, and by the time he was done eating it, he was literally coughing up cinnamon. Didn't say anything though, couldn't be mean to his sister like that.

HE CANNOT SIT STILL!! Gaz and soap are literally the most energetic people on base. Except Price finds Gaz charming and soap less so...

Also I for some reason think he smells like oranges and mangos???

(edited after I saw a tiktok about climate change) GAZ IS SUPER VOCAL ABOUT CLIMATE CHANGE, all of the boys care to some degree (get it?) but Gaz brings hard facts and evidence everytime he talks about it, Price is now worried for Gaz's mental health

Price

Where to start? Maybe with the fact he has duplicates of his hats he keeps in his office drawer. Ghost went in there one time to give Price a report and saw Price open his Hat Drawer. Ghost had never seen so many hats

If some of y'all didn't know, if you have a low tolerance to cigars and breathe in too much of the smoke, you'll get sick. So, Price keeps a puking trash can just for the people that come into his office. Is he gonna stop smoking to prevent people from losing their lunch? Never.

When he's not on duty he wears the stupid Hawaiian shirts that middle aged dads wear on vacation. Also cargo shorts. Cause they're tactical

Soap

Again, he cannot sit still. He'll wake up in the middle of the night and you'll find him in the armory tinkering with an explosive, and even then he gets up every couple minutes just to pace around

He is very meticulous about his hair. Every morning he wakes up just a little bit earlier then everyone else and hair gels that baby into place. It does not move. It could probably be as effective as a military grade helmet at that point.

THIS MAN DRAWS PORN AND POSTS IT ON TWITTER!!! He uses an alias of course, and a very well hidden drawing tablet when he's on duty. Just ignore the fact that alot of the men he draws look just a tad bit like ghost. Just a little.

Also, while all of the COD men love a woman (or man) with meat on their bones, soap is feral. Chubby chaser all the way. There's also something really hot about a person being around his height and not taking his shit.

Ghost

He has horrible acne under that mask. It's actually awful how much he goes through just to keep it on. He's done skincare, moisturizing, pimple patches, everything, and nothing work. The worst part is, he thinks the mask is so cool it's worth it

This man is an actual dork. (Idea by @ghouljams) this guy definitely makes those little miniatures. The little details he puts into every bit of his work, whether it's wood grain, the look of water, he just does it all with such skill. The plus side is that it keeps his brain at bay, not thinking and more focused on what's in front of him. He also likes DND. Go figure.

I also do like the idea of trans ghost. He understands what it was like before he transitioned and feeling ashamed of his size when he used to be forced into the stereotype of what a woman should look like. So when people fuck with you about your size, he's right behind you like he's gonna kill them.

Authors note: the only thing I'm afraid of as I start writing is 1. The fan fic author curse, and 2. People actually paying attention to me, my anxiety is gonna kill me, lol. Anyway, hope y'all are having a great day!!! Bye!!!

#plus size reader #chubby reader #tall reader #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #john price #cod x reader #cod headcanons #also kyle tries to help ghost with his chronic acne but ghost stops listening after he stares into kyles beautiful eyes

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crackedpumpkin · 1 year ago

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|| ʙʟᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀɴᴠᴀꜱ || ᴘᴛ. ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ||

a/n: Hello loves! So sorry I kept y'all waiting for part three, I hope you enjoy this! Just wanted to let y'all know that I'll be flying off to South Korea for a vacation, and will only be back on the 22nd of June so updates will be paused till then. I'll try to continue writing on my trip, but there are no guarantees I won't be too tired lolol. Love, pumpkin.

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

Blackmail — The act of attempting to force someone to do something or give up something valuable by threatening negative consequences if they don’t, especially revealing negative information about them.

That's what the online dictionary says anyway, which is perfect!

As such, it wouldn't be blackmail as much as it would be....persuasive negotiation. Which is the exact opposite of blackmail, which, again, is perfect!

Yeah, you’re getting nowhere with this.

You stifle a defeated groan as you collapse onto the plush mattress of your bed, dragging your hands down your face. Your phone beeps with a message, startling you out of your thoughts.

Nicole [ 7.15 PM ]: Did you find what you were looking for?

Nicole [ 7.15 PM ]: ?

Nicole [ 7.30 PM ]: Update me tomorrow.

Right. Nicole. Your hand falls limply to the side, fingers loosely gripping the device.

Crap.

How would you explain it to her? She’s always been good at sniffing out your lies. To tell, or not to tell. That is the question. Maybe you should just pretend nothing happened. That’d be the only reasonable thing to do in this situation, right?

But your art is at risk here. And if it’s anything you’ve learnt over your many years of living, it’s that you’re a stubborn bull that can’t back down once you’re set on something. And right now, you’re set on getting Spiderman to be your model.

You might get your mojo back if you draw him enough times. Maybe your art block won’t be so constipated anymore, and perhaps you might even get into the art school you have your eye on.

And maybe, just maybe, you might catch the eye of the art scouts at the end-of-year exhibition.

So there’s no way you can afford to give this up.

You’ll convince him. You have to.

— — — — —

“So, why’d you ignore my messages yesterday?”

You flinch away from the sudden hand on your shoulder, fingers decorated with rings glinting in the sun. Michael winces from where he’s standing opposite you, taking a long, slow sip of his juice box.

You stammer out Nicole’s name in surprise, the girl in question looking at you with a raised brow and serious eyes. She scans your nervous smile and flushed cheeks, letting go of you with a nod.

“You met him. How was it?”

Damn it.

“I didn’t end up meeting him,” You say with a defeated sigh, hoping it’s not excessive. Being under Nicole’s observant gaze is one of the scariest experiences in the world, with pigeons in close proximity a close second.

“Okay,” Her dubious tone gives you a slight sense of hope, only for your heart to drop at her next question. “So, why’d you ask me for Miles’s photo?”

“I, uh, ran into him and thought he looked familiar. So, I asked for his picture to double check,” You admit, hoping the truth mixed into some lies would be enough to convince her.

“Right…What’s your impression of him, then?”

“Cute?” You blurt out without thinking, recalling the framed picture of his young self with his parents on the small table.

“You think he’s cute?”

“M-maybe?” You try, but it clicks once you see the disgust in her eyes. “Yes! I do, in fact, find him very attractive. One might even say that he is now my…crush?”

You pray she doesn’t notice the underlying wince in your words. Nicole shudders, taking a small step away from you. “You need to get your eyes checked or something. I’ve known the guy since we were in diapers, and trust me when I say that he’s nothing but trouble.”

“I won’t do anything, I promise. Besides, I’m sure the crush is just temporary. It’ll blow over before you even know it!” Mainly because you don’t have a crush on the guy in the first place. But you do need to figure out a way to trap him to persuade him into being your model.

“Wait, you met Miles?”

“Why’re you glossing over the fact that she likes him?” Nicole says incredulously, gesturing to you with wide eyes. It’s probably the most expressive you’ve ever seen her, save for the time you invited them to go cafe hopping with you on a sweltering Monday.

You’d never heard so many variations of curses before, all of which Nicole unintentionally introduced you to. Since then, you’ve learnt to only hang out on cooler days with better weather and cafes within walking distance.

“So?” Michael shrugs nonchalantly, but the amused smile on his lips suggests otherwise. “Why are you so affected?”

“Because it’s my best friend liking Miles Morales - the guy I’ve known since we were babies. He’s not good enough for her.” Nicole decides with a frown. You turn to her, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes as you place your hands on your heart.

“I’m your best friend?” Nicole rolls her eyes at your words, crossing her arms. “You can drop from that tier anytime, so you better watch out.” She replies simply with a halfhearted glare, but her words have no bite to them. Her ears are tinted red.

“Aww,” You coo, throwing your arms around the girl who baulks in surprise, almost falling to the ground had you not steadied both of you. She wriggles under your tight hug, giving up quickly with a groan.

“Let me get in on that, chicas-” Michael is cut off when you kick his ankle, biting back a pained cry while you continue to hug Nicole, who has a satisfied smirk at your action. “Good job.” She pats your arm, and you reluctantly let go, dramatically wiping the tears away.

At least you succeeded in distracting her.

The rest of the day practically flies by, your body on autopilot and going through the motions of taking out your textbooks and doodling on them. Math, Science, and History were all meaningless in your eyes as you tried to make another plan to meet him. The past three attempts had shown you exactly how difficult it was to meet with the hero, much less alone.

You’re not one to give up, though. You stare down at the piece of paper filled with doodles and scribbled words — an outline of a plan, circling Spiderman’s name in red.

Okay, let’s try this again.

Attempt #1: Meet Him At The Park - The Friendly Way.

You take a tentative glance around. Good, No dogs are in sight. You look over to the park's far end, where you had set up a sign saying that dog treats were being given out for free if they assembled there.

Sometimes, lying is an essential means of survival. Another quick scan of your surroundings confirms that no one is in the path of the taco truck, and feeling only slightly guilty when you spot the owner’s surprised expression, wondering why his usual customers aren’t present.

However, you try not to linger on that, choosing to double-check if everything you need is on you.

Phone? Check. Earbuds? Check. Wallet? Check. Spiderman?

You grin once you spot the masked hero landing in front of the taco truck, right on schedule.

Check.

Standing up, you slowly make your way over, giving him time to place his order. Every step is light, your heart oddly calm as you approach him. Yeah. You got this. It’s just getting him to agree that’s the hard part.

Okay. You got this. Play it cool.

Walking up to the taco truck, you clear your throat, propping your elbow onto the small metal platform near the baskets of condiments. You casually glance at him, scanning his suit from head to toe before meeting his eyes.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies slowly with a slight tilt of his head, surprised by your sudden presence. He taps his fingers against the cold metal of the taco truck in a steady rhythm. You take a slow breath. You can take your time. It’s just a boy under the mask, after all.

“So, how’s being Spiderman going?” You ask absentmindedly, looking down at your nails and only now noticing that you’re in desperate need of a manicure.

“It’s going good. And you?”

“Could be better.”

“That doesn’t sound good. Is it anything your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman can help with?” His words are filled with worry, now giving you his full attention.

Got him.

“Well…” You trail off, barely managing to hide the excitement in your eyes and voice. Now’s the time to approach him carefully. If you’re careless, you could lose one of the few opportunities to get him to be your muse.

“Uh-huh?” He grabs the paper bag of tacos the owner hands him, handing him a crumpled bill from a hidden pocket in his suit with a quick nod of thanks in one smooth movement. However, he hears a slight commotion a short distance away, eyes narrowing as he tries to determine the source.

“I’m an art student, and I need a muse,” You continue, encouraged by his questioning hum and failing to notice the way his gaze is focused on something happening behind you. “So I was thinking-”

“Right, uh, miss. You seem like an absolutely wonderful lady. I’m so sorry, but we’ll have to continue this conversation another day. Duty’s kinda calling right now. I’ll pass by the basketball court tomorrow, and you can ask me your question there?” You can’t tell if he’s smiling, grinning, or even scowling under the mask. But it didn’t exactly sound hostile, so that’s that you suppose.

“Meet me at the sub shop on Fifth Avenue, two lefts after the huge statue and a right at the Lego store. Two-thirty P.M.,” You reply immediately. Why Mr Perez’s shop, in particular, you didn’t know. But you’re not about to chase after his ass again after the last few times. Not a chance in hell.

He agrees with a quick but apologetic nod, already swinging off with his paper bag of tacos and heading toward the angry horde of dog parents around the sign you placed earlier. You watch him land before them, trying to calm the group down.

Well, at least you got an appointment with him tomorrow. The problem now is how to make sure he accepts. Plus, him constantly running off isn’t the most ideal scenario in your situation.

So, you have to make sure he stays put.

You walk off, heading to the sub shop with the beginnings of an idea. (While simultaneously forgetting about the horde of dog parents who’re growing increasingly angrier from the absence of promised dog treats).

— — — — —

“Mr Perez, nice shirt! Did you separate the whites from the colours? It looks so clean!” You greet as soon as you walk in, taking a deep breath and smiling at the scent of pickle brine. The store is relatively empty, the last customer leaving through the door just as you walked in.

The store owner walks to the glass door, flipping the sign around to read Closed. He sends you a wary glance, walking back behind the counter to start cleaning up while you lean against the glass display case.

“What do you want?”

“Who said I wanted anything?”

“You only compliment my laundry when you want something.” It’s true. You do tend to do that. You suppose it’s time to be rid of the habit. But not today, for you have much more important goals to pursue.

“Okay. I need to borrow the storeroom for, like, a couple of hours tomorrow afternoon. No disturbances, complete privacy. Not even Didi is allowed in.” You get straight to the point, not bothering to beat around the bush.

“...Are you doing drugs?”

“That’s gross. And unsanitary. If I were doing drugs, I’d do it in the Science lab at school.” You point out, scrunching your nose in disgust.

“Are you smoking? Vaping?”

“No, and no. C’mon, Mr Perez, I thought you knew me better than that!” You huff, though you know that he’s just joking from the amused twinkle in his eyes.

“Fine. Just give me the signal. Besides, Didi’s at preschool tomorrow till five.” He says simply, wiping down his workstation with a clean cloth.

“Really? No takebacks!” You say with an exaggerated gasp, not expecting him to actually agree. The bright smile on your face makes him chuckle, shaking his head fondly as he washes up the kitchen knives in the sink.

“What time will you be coming?”

“Two-thirty. Remember, you promised no questions asked!” You call out over your shoulder as you exit while raising your hand in a quick salute. You saunter on home with your hands in your pockets, chest swelling with pride that you got a guaranteed meeting with the very boy you’ve been trying to convince to be your muse.

You’ve definitely got this.

— — — — —

Attempt #2: Kidnap Meet Him At The Sub Store - The Friendly Way.

Two-fifteen P.M.

You glance over at the IKEA clock hanging from the wall opposite you in the storeroom, tying the string securely around the metal shelf. Taking a step back, you survey the setup, scanning it for flaws in your otherwise perfect plan.

You arrange the chair to sit behind a wobbly table that’s about to break any day now due to countless playtimes with Didi’s mischievous ideas. (And maybe some of your own, but Mr Perez doesn’t need to know that.)

The bright light in the slightly cramped storeroom only adds to the ambience (of what, you don’t really know yourself). The punching bag hanging in the corner of the room is definitely no cause for concern. Maybe he’d think that you’re really into exercise. All that’s left is for Spiderman to get caught in your perfect trap. You’re pretty sure he won’t get hurt in the process.

The only thing left now is to wait. You head out into the front of the store, waving Spiderman over as soon as you see him enter. He follows with a skip in his step, only to slow down when you guide him into the storeroom.

“Uh…This is new, even for me.” He comments, looking around at the stacked boxes and metal shelves, unsure of what to make of this sudden change in vibe. You gesture at the chair, closing the door behind you.

“Sorry, I just needed a place away from prying eyes.” You sigh, discreetly watching him take a seat. He does so without hesitation, and you immediately grab the end of the string that’s hooked onto the metal shelf, using all of your strength (and the help of a pulley) to yank it.

Spiderman yelps, dangling from the ceiling by a tightly secured string around his ankle. “What the-? You said you needed help!”

“And I do!” You reply, a tinge of desperation in your words. “Just…just hang on.” You breathe out, taking the frying pan on the shelf next to you after securing the string and leaving him dangling still. You approach him, Spiderman failing to notice, too preoccupied with trying to escape.

“Michael better be right about this,” You mumble under your breath, taking a quick swing and hitting the spot on his head that Michael promised would knock anyone out instantly. Spiderman’s eyes close, his cry of protest cut off as his hands fall limply to his sides.

“Oh.” You stare down at him, squatting down and reaching your hand out to gently massage the spot where you hit him with a guilty smile. You hadn’t expected it to actually work. “Sorry, Morales. My goals aren’t to harm you, promise.”

Standing back up with a wince, you can feel the joints in your body popping from the sudden stretch. You never really bothered with exercise, categorizing your sketching and painting as such.

You huff, grabbing his arms and pulling him across the room after untying him from the string around his ankle. “But one of them might be to start working out,” You say through gritted teeth, finally reaching the punching bag. You take a deep breath, doing your best to pick him up and hold him against it while you tie him up.

“No-” Your muffled cry is cut short when your arms give out, and you fall onto your back with the unconscious hero lying on top of you. You groan, pushing him off you, eyeing the punching bag with distaste.

Another repeated attempt ends in the same result, and your back starts to ache from the impact of the hard surface against your back. You see him starting to stir, your eyes widening in panic, instinctively grabbing the frying pan and hitting him again. He falls back to the floor with a hushed groan while you breathe a sigh of relief.

You stand back up, eyeing the punching bag, before an idea hits you.

Finally, you sit in the chair in front of the punching bag, taking out your sketchbook from the bag you'd placed on one of the shelves this afternoon and beginning to sketch him leisurely. You spot him slowly blinking, regaining his consciousness as he realises that he’s tied up.

"So..." You drawl, leaning back in your seat with a lazy grin. The city's local hero, Spiderman, dangles upside down in your trap. You actually did it. You got him to stay put.

He struggles to get free from the tightly bound ropes, almost tugging off his mask in the process before giving up seconds after. “Not again…” You hear him groan in defeat, looking back up at you with a deadpan stare.

"I have to admit, I love the new suit." You comment, grabbing a pencil and doing a quick sketch, ignoring his earlier words.

"What do you want from me?"

You pause, looking up from your sketchbook. "You sound pretty young to be a hero." You purse your lips, trying to guess his age.

"W-what? No, I don't." His voice turns gruff, and you chuckle from how obvious he was forcing it to be.

"I don't really want much. Just to draw you is all." You hum, flipping a page and letting pencil meet paper.

"What?"

You don't respond, eyes trained on sketching the dimensions of his midnight black suit. "I like the spray paint."

"Thanks," He's surprised by your comment, hands still furiously working to free himself.

"Aren't you a villain?" He questions, unable to hold back his curiosity. You weren't really doing anything to him either, not like the muggers or robbers that roam the streets at night.

You were just... drawing him.

"I just thought the suit was cool." You respond simply with a shrug, looking straight at the white material on his mask that hides his eyes.

He flinches, surprised by the sudden eye contact. "And you trapped me because...?"

"I wanted to draw it."

"You could've just asked."

"I tried. You weren't really paying attention, or you weren’t available. Hero duties and all, remember? "

Now that you mentioned it, the hero does remember you from the mugging and the excuses he’d made, shrugging sheepishly in response.

"Oh. My bad."

The corner of your lips tugs upwards into a slight smile. At least he has the common decency to admit it.

"Could you untie me, though? It's getting a little uncomfortable." He voices out, fingers still trying to wriggle free.

"Sure, but I'll need something in exchange."

He sighs. Of course, you did. People always wanted something from him as Spiderman, be it a photo or to gain clout.

"What is it?" He's wary now.

You grin, hands closing the sketchbook with a loud snap as you place your pencil on your chair, getting up.

"That's easy," You walk towards him with ease, eyes filled with certainty. You're inches away from his upside-down figure, leaning in slightly until your lips are next to where his ear would be under the mask.

"Be my model, Miles Morales.”

He stills at the mention of his name. “Wh-what? I don’t know who this Miles guy is, but I’m obviously not him.” He laughs nervously, shaking his head.

You can practically see the waves of panic flooding through his mind. “You just changed the pitch of your voice,” You point out casually instead, leaning back against the wall with a smirk, your hands in your pockets.

“I’m telling you, I’m not this Miles guy you think I am. Though I’m very sure he may be cool enough to be Spiderman, I am not him.” He almost trips over his words, flinching when you move your hand close to his mask.

“Then I guess you won’t mind if I take this off?” You hum, spotting him trying to use his electric powers to break free. “Don’t bother. The strings are made out of insulated material.”

He flinches away from your fingers brushing against the side of his face, his eyes meeting yours and knowing he’s already lost this battle. “Fine.” He surrenders, his eyes narrowed into a hostile glare directed at you.

“Don’t be like that,” You chide, sitting cross-legged in front of him with a disapproving shake of your head. “Besides, I’m just here to make a deal with you.”

“Is this about the model thing?”

“Yeap,” You confirm, popping the ‘p’. “Here’s all I’m asking. Let me meet up with you twice a week. I’ll even pay you ten bucks per session. All you gotta do is sit there.” The intensity of his glare lessens somewhat, though you can still sense his wariness. Makes sense, though, considering you’ve just essentially ensured he can’t say no. Besides, your terms and conditions aren’t half bad either.

You wait patiently for his response, giving him time to mull over it.

“Deal. Now let me go.”

“Uh-uh, not just yet,” You tut, moving over to your bag, grabbing the makeshift contract you drafted last night, and showing it to him with a triumphant grin. “I even added two different lines for both of your signatures. Spiderman’s and Miles Morales.”

He rolls his eyes, and you take that as a good sign, cutting him loose. He falls gracefully to the floor, landing in a perfect superhero pose. You applaud, giving yourself a mental pat on the back for staying calm throughout the entire exchange. He takes the pen you hand to him, scrawling his name on the dotted line. You smile widely and keep the contract back in your bag, practically on cloud nine with this accomplishment.

Unfortunately, the euphoria makes you forget you’re still in a cramped storeroom.

Wincing when your elbow knocks against a loosely stacked box, you and Spiderman watch it slowly topple on its side, landing on the floor with a loud bang before looking at each other with wide eyes.

Okay, so maybe you don’t got this as much as you thought.

You freeze when the door opens, looking behind you to see Mr Perez with his hand on the doorknob. His eyes flit from you to Spiderman, his gaze settling on the open box on the ground with vegetables spilling out of it before looking back at you with furrowed brows.

As soon as your eyes meet, you smile sheepishly.

“I’ll babysit on Friday.”

— — — — — — —

taglist: (definitely not because I forgot I said I'd tag people lol)

@oh-kurva @brunnetteiwik @queerponcho @sleepingnova @1theestallionyas

#spiderman: into the spiderverse #Into The Spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #into the spiderverse x reader #spiderman: into the spiderverse x reader

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distinguishedstudentfishalien · 9 months ago

Text

AHHH ok, let's talk about Lucifer and Alastor

I've been reading a lot of reactions to Hazbin: from the gushers who think the show is perfect to the hyper-critical who hate the show, the creator, and everything in between. I don't fall into any of those categories. I had a lot of fun watching it, but there were some things I liked, and some others I didn't. You know, as it's usually the case with any piece of media one interacts with.

I love reading other people's opinions. It makes me pay more attention to things I might have missed. BUT for Hazbin, most of the criticism I've seen boils down to two things: either "I, personally, didn't like it, so that means it's bad" which is not the hot take people seem to think it is, or just lack of media literacy.

I won't go over all the examples of that last point (there are plenty), but one example people are using to criticize the show --which I can't seem to get out of my head so now I have to write about it-- it's how out of left field it was for Alastor to think of himself as a father figure to Charlie.

My guys and guysettes, that's because he doesn't.

He does it to piss off Lucifer, because he doesn't like him. That's it.

"But they just met, why doesn't he like him?" I don't know! but let's go over some examples, shall we?

In the first episode, during Alastor's TV ad, we see a picture of the hotel, clearly drawn by him. I ask you to look to the bottom left where it says "No tacky circus decor! I promise"

Do we know what he is referring to? Sure we do! the ring circus master himself! Lucifer Morningstar, whose whole schtick is circus-related. Clearly, Alastor is not a fan.

When Lucifer arrives to the hotel, did anybody catch Alastor's first reaction? (besides calling him short to his face, ofc)

Do you see that trembling eye? He is PISSED. Why? Who the hell knows! But he clearly does not care for the King of Hell himself (if you force me to give you my opinion on this, I think it's because of Alastor's delusions of grandeur, and plain-ole narcissism, but that is a conversation for another post, if I ever gather enough energy to write it)

He introduces himself and immediately does this. R-U-D-E.

Now, let's talk about the song itself, which, again, is clearly just an attempt to piss off Lucifer and not really about Charlie. At all.

He only cares about Lucifer's reactions. Because he is not being HONEST. We can all see that? right?? I mean, it is pretty FREAKING obvious. He is just trying to get a rise out of Lucifer.

And now, the moment we were all waiting for, the infamous "call me dad" moment.

Which had nothing to do with Charlie, and it was just another example of Alastor being the most annoying bastard alive. He is not even looking at her! He is staring Lucifer dead in the eye and saying "piss off shortie".

Why? Again, I dunno. Your guess is as good as mine. I hope we'll get the answer in season 2, because immediate animosity against the King of Hell himself is something I need some context for. Is it funny? Absolutely! I love that song! The violin solo? PURE GOLD (he he)

But for the love of Christ and the Antichrist, please stop thinking of "Alastor thinks of himself as Charlie's dad out of nowhere" as a valid criticism. As some have speculated, Alastor involvement with Charlie will probably have something to do with Alastor's deal and 7-year absence. If it's never explained, then sure, what the heck Vivzie?? please include it on the show!

There are PLENTY of things we could criticize about Hazbin (and people smarter and with more energy than me have done so already). But there are so many examples of "criticism" that are just examples of "I don't know how to interact with media anymore" and I beg of you to do better. This is a tiny example of the show showing and not telling, and some of y'all failed the comprehension test.

It is a fun show, guys. Enjoy it.

TL;DR: Alastor does not think he is Charlie's dad, ffs. He just wanted to piss off Lucifer.

#and NO #he is NOT jealous #I do not ship Alstor and Charlie #she has a girlfiend #he is an ace in the hole or whatever it is that Rosie said #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #lucifer morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #my beloved #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #hazbin alastor #hazbin charlie

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bellofthemeadow · 1 year ago

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Harrington!reader, Steve’s little sister. Popular, a cheerleader, first time senior and Chrissy’s best friend. But she has a secret that only her best friend knows. She’s had a crush on Eddie Munson since middle school. She’s afraid to tell him, thinking there’s no way he’d be into her. Until one day in the cafeteria, Jason Carver calls Eddie a freak. She confronts him, and punches him in the face, breaking or spraining her hand/wrist. Guess her little secret is out, and she may never be popular again.

OF COURSE MY DEAR ANON! I am so sorry it took forever to address this request! I have just started my final year of Uni, and with four seminars and graduate applications, I have not had any time to write consistently! But this idea was too enticing to pass up, so thank you very much for sharing it! For those waiting on other fics, I am slowly but surely getting back into the groove of writing more consistently so it should all come out sooner rather than later (hopefully) and I always welcome more fics or one shot ideas! Thank you to y'all for bearing with me, I APPRECIATE ALL OF YOU SO SO MUCH ❤️❤️❤️

No warnings excpet for some violence (against Jason Carver so thats fine I think) and some heavy make out session

Word Count: 5.3K

Masterlist

Hit Me Baby One More Time

You had gotten your first taste of popularity on your very first day of middle school, a couple of years ago. That entire week leading up to it had been filled with fear and stress about what people would think of you. Overwhelmed, you had spent the last few days of your summer agonizing over your outfit choice, turning your daily fashion show into a reluctant performance for your big brother, Steve. Despite his huffs and puffs, he had reassured you that everything would go smoothly, but you couldn't help to worry. Eventually, you ended up settling on a cute white dress that reached just above your knees, paired with a soft baby pink cardigan. You had hoped it would be enough to get some of the right kind of attention that Steve always talked about.

In hindsight, you realized that you might have been a tad dramatic as when lunchtime had rolled around, a group of girls had approached you, giggling with excitement. "Are you Steve Harrington's sister?" they had asked-whispered with bright envious eyes. You slowly nodded, and with elated giggles, they ushered you over to their table, where the popular crowd was hanging out. It turned out your brother had quite the reputation, and while you knew he was popular, you hadn't fully grasped the extent to which the name Harrington would impact your social life. For you, Steve was just the idiot older brother who used Farah Fawcet's hairspray to keep his dumb hair in place – But to everyone else, it seemed that Steve was a pretty big deal. So, you were, it seemed, a legacy, and the rest, as they say, was history. And that very day, you also ended up meeting your future best friend, Chrissy Cunningham, who you would grow to love with all your heart.

Five years had come and gone, and now, you were finally well-established into your senior year, ready to graduate in the spring. And while it was true that your older brother might have facilitated your initial entry into the realm of popularity, you had since etched out a distinctive name for yourself. As your brother moved on to new chapters in his life (namely an underpaid job at family video), your own journey through high school took a markedly different path. In fact, your popularity had continued to ascend, like a rising star in the night sky.

Though the Harrington name may have laid the foundation, you had meticulously built upon it, brick by brick. You had cultivated your own unique persona, and it had become a force to be reckoned with in the hallways of your school. No longer living in the shadow of your brother's glory days, you had emerged as a charismatic figure in your own right.

You had become The Harrington sibling who truly counted, especially after the dramatic showdown between Steve and Billy Hargrove during his own senior year. In the aftermath of that clash, your brother's social standing had taken a considerable hit, with much of his social credit being seized by the mullet-wearing bad-boy. The Harrington name, which had once been associated with Steve's swagger, now conjured images of a radiant, saccharine smile, cheerleading outfits, and a personality as pinky-sweet as bubblegum.

While Chrissy indisputably reigned as the queen of Hawkins High, some believed it was only because you had no desire to claim that throne—a belief rooted in truth as you had no interest of being the queen of anything, especially Hawkins High as beyond Chrissy, you harboured little affection for the other members of the popular clique. Whether it was Jason Carver and his cronies or the remainder of the cheer squad, you couldn't help but find them increasingly vapid.

Nestled at the popular table right in the heart of the bustling cafeteria, always donning Hawkins’ green cheer outfit, a nagging sensation of inauthenticity always clung to you. Hitching deep into your soul, making you feel like the fraud you’ve always believed yourself to be as although your elevated social status had smoothed your journey through high school, ensuring a constant stream of party invitations, a steadfast companion, and even a few favors from teachers who were drawn to your preppy smile and sunny disposition, it all felt like a facade, far removed from your true self.

You’ve always known how deep inside, there were facets of who you really were that you couldn't openly share with anyone but Chrissy. She alone knew of your profound love for fantasy and science fiction novels. Nothing brought you more joy than retreating home to dive headlong into the mystical realms crafted by H.P. Lovecraft or to lose yourself once more in the pages of your well-worn copy of "Frankenstein." Yet, these passions remained concealed beneath the veneer you projected: the princess of Hawkins High, painted in shades of pink, sweet, and deceptively perfect.

The idea of letting those hidden, nerdy passions of yours see the light of day felt like a risky bet, one that could potentially leave you feeling incredibly alone at Hawkins High. The thought of losing friends and having nowhere to sit during lunch was a constant source of worry. You had faith in Chrissy's unwavering support, regardless of your social standing, but you couldn't bear the idea of burdening her. She was just so kind, always forgiving even to those who didn't deserve it, and you didn't want to be the one responsible for pulling her down.

As a result, the decision to keep these aspects of your identity hidden weighed heavily on your heart. It felt like an unspoken loneliness, a sacrifice you were making to preserve the fragile balance of the life you'd carefully constructed in high school. Hawkins High had its own intricate ecosystem, and you were very much a part of it. Your place within that system was delicate, and you couldn't afford to disrupt it, fearing that it might set off a chain reaction that could destabilize everything. You had no intention of being the one to upset the frail high school biome of Hawkins High.

Now, however, your situation was far from ideal as you found yourself sandwiched between Carly and Tina during lunch, and today, they were even more exasperating than usual. There seemed to be some sort of fallout from Tina's last party, something involving a boy, and now the two girls communicated exclusively through snarky remarks, making the tension rise with every snip from either girl. A brewing headache was beginning to claw at your temples as you were waiting for the explosion to erupt sooner rather than later.

What was happening in front of you wasn’t any better as you were given a front-row seat to the somewhat uncomfortable sight of Jason Carver deeply engrossed in a passionate kiss with Chrissy. She appeared to be on the brink of embarrassment, her attempts to gently push Jason away carried out with shy reluctance. "Jason, please," she implored, her manicured hand finding its way to his chest, a plea in her eyes. "Not in front of everyone..."

In response, Jason merely rolled his eyes dismissively. "Come on, baby," he insisted, his voice low and unconcerned. "No one's even paying attention to us."

You couldn't help but scowl, unhappiness etching your delicate features as you watched the uncomfortable display unfold before you. Finally, you couldn't take it any longer. You cleared your throat and loudly exclaimed, "Hey, Chrissy?" All eyes turned to you, and you continued, "Do you think we could slip away from lunch a bit early to go over the routine we've been practicing for the upcoming game? I really want to make sure I've got it down perfectly before tonight's match."

Chrissy's sigh of relief was almost audible, and you could sense her gratitude. In contrast, Jason huffed unhappily, clearly irritated by the interruption. He muttered something about leaving you girls to your conversation before he got up and headed to chat with one of his buddies at the far end of the table.

You and Chrissy shared a quick, wordless girl-to-girl conversation. All the words you needed were conveyed through a bombastic side-eye from you and a subtle nod of your head toward Jason. Chrissy responded with a playful roll of her eyes and a slight shake of her shoulder, silently agreeing with your sentiment.

As your eyes shifted away from Chrissy, they unexpectedly locked onto the deep brown ones of Eddie Munson. Two distinct emotions surged from deep within you. One was a rush of excitement as the warmth of your crush enveloped you, causing your face to flush as red as a ripe apple under his gaze. But in an instant, that crush felt almost crushing when you realized that it wasn't you that Eddie was looking at, but rather Chrissy's high ponytail that had captured his attention.

Eddie and Chrissy. Chrissy and Eddie. ChrissyandEddie. It was an undeniable fact that the guy you had the most enormous crush on happened to be utterly smitten with your best friend. It felt almost tragically comical, if you were being honest with yourself. Throughout high school, countless guys had mustered the courage to ask you out, but you had dismissed them all without a second thought. Football jocks, band nerds, potheads, music fanatics – none of them could hold a candle to Eddie Munson in your eyes.From the very moment you first crossed paths with Eddie during your freshman year, your heart had been irreversibly, completely, and utterly captivated by the charismatic and outspoken boy. You were utterly unprepared for it, not like you were out there seeking Cupid's arrow to pierce your heart. You had simply been an unsuspecting victim of one of its whims, but the exquisite pain that followed was worth it. At least, you hoped so.

Thanks to Eddie's recurring attempts at redoing his senior year and your placement in advanced classes, your worlds intersected more than once. One particularly unforgettable encounter unfolded in Mrs. Allen's math class, where the teacher had a peculiar notion that pairing the class's worst student (Eddie) with its best (you) would somehow work magic. You were left a bit shy and entirely tongue-tied in his presence, but Eddie had an uncanny talent for leaning in close and delivering a barrage of side-splitting, utterly inappropriate observations about Mrs. Allen that left you snorting with laughter. For a glorious three months, Eddie was your math partner in crime, and during that time, you dared to believe that something more could evolve from your interactions. If only you could string together coherent sentences without tripping over your words.

However, as fate would have it, the teacher eventually grew tired of her seating arrangement, deciding it was high time to shake things up. This twist in your high school narrative resulted in you and Eddie being separated, an alteration you weren't particularly thrilled about. The new arrangement effectively put a damper on your burgeoning connection.

It was in the midst of this seating shuffle that Eddie tossed a rather loaded question your way, catching you off guard. "Your friend Chrissy," he began, as you felt yourself shrink under his gaze. "Is she still with that Carver douche?" Your gaze faltered as you met his, a nod escaping your lips as a wave of disappointment surged within you. Inwardly grappling with the sting of unspoken heartache, you found yourself clutching the hem of your cheer skirt almost desperately. Without another word, you retreated to your newly assigned seat, a sense of melancholy lingering like a shadow and bitter disappointment coating your tongue.

Even now, your gaze would involuntarily flicker to Eddie whenever you found yourself in the same room. Often, he'd be engrossed in conversations with his bandmates or his D&D group, leaving you on the outside looking in. It was a conflicting sensation, feeling his presence so near yet so far away. If only you could gather the nerve to strike up a conversation with him, but you hesitated. After all, you were the popular girl, the one who played by the rules, and good girls weren't supposed to mix with people like Eddie, no matter how much you desperately longed for it. Perhaps during math class today, you thought, you might find a plausible excuse to approach him. Maybe something as simple as asking about the homework or...

"And what the hell do you think you're staring at, Freak!?" The sudden hush that swept over the cafeteria was palpable as every head turned toward Jason, who had abandoned your table and was now striding purposefully toward the one where Eddie and his friends were seated. A chill coursed through your veins, causing your face to pale. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the unfolding drama as Eddie rose from his seat. While he appeared outwardly confident, the telltale clenching and unclenching of his hand betrayed the nervousness bubbling beneath the surface. It was clear to you that what he was displaying might just be a facade of bravado.

"Did you dribble that orange ball a few too many times, Carver?" Eddie sarcastically chimed in. His words hung in the air, an open challenge that seemed to stoke the flames of Jason's anger. In a fit of rage, Jason lunged forward, grabbing Eddie by the front of his well-worn jeans jacket. The cafeteria held its breath, anticipation hanging heavy in.

A gasp escaped your lips, a sharp, involuntary intake of breath as the dramatic confrontation unfolded before your eyes. Abruptly, you shot up from your seat, causing Chrissy to turn around in surprise. She sent you an uncertain look as you started to stride toward the two boys. It was as if you were possessed by a force stronger than yourself, you couldn’t let whatever was happening continue – you had to do something!

"Don't try to bullshit me, freak!" Jason's voice reverberated through the cafeteria, anger and scorn dripping from his words. "I saw you looking at Chrissy. You think you can just lay your eyes on her, you freak? She isn't yours; you're nothing but trailer trash! Don't you ever dare to look at her again, alright? Or I'll teach you a lesson you won't forget!" Jason was so close to Eddie's face that his spittle sprayed across the other boy's features. He shoved Eddie backward, and it was at that moment, as you were making your way between the mass of students that had clustered around Jason and Eddie that you felt a surge of red-hot anger like nothing you had ever felt before.

"Do I make myself clear, freak?" Jason continued, his voice dripping with malice. "Or do I need to send my boys to deal with you and your pathetic group of losers?" Eddie looked incensed, but he cowered under Jason's menacing threat.

"I...wasn't...looking," Eddie enunciated each word through gritted teeth, avoiding Jason's eyes. Jason burst into fake laughter, glancing around at the onlookers.

"Does the freak have a crush?" he taunted, his voice cruel and derisive. "That's hilarious. You honestly think you'd have a chance with Chrissy? Be realistic, freak. What is it now, twice repeating your senior year?" Eddie's face turned a deep shade of pink, shame washing over him as Jason's taunts struck at his insecurities. His shoulders sagged with each insult, and he struggled to maintain his composure.

"Everyone knows anyway that the only way a freak like you could ever get close to a girl is when you and your little cult of Satan practice some sacrifices," Jason continued, his words laced with venom. "I'm even surprised they let people like you in here. Everyone knows what kind of trash your dad was, it ain't surprising that the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree…”

You pushed your way through the crowd, determination propelling you forward. Without a second thought, you strode purposefully toward the back of Jason. Eddie's surprised gaze locked onto you as you confidently approached them.

You extended your arm and lightly tapped Jason on the shoulder, effectively cutting off his rant mid-sentence. The abruptness of your action prompted Jason to whirl around to face you, his typically handsome features now contorted into a repulsive mask of anger. It was a stark contrast to the carefully cultivated "cool-guy" image he often projected. But deep down, you knew this enraged countenance was his true face, hidden behind the facade. In fight or flight mode, you recalled your brother Steve's advice about fighting, which you had stored away in your memory, "Sis," Steve's voice echoed in your mind, "when you throw a punch, put your entire body behind it."

And that's precisely what you did. With every ounce of your body weight, you thrust your fist forward directly into Jason's face. The cafeteria was filled with a sharp crack, echoing through the room, followed by a collective gasp from everyone present. An eerie silence descended upon the cafeteria.

Jason lay sprawled on the floor, a violent stream of blood gushing from his nose, while you clutched your hand close to your chest. Tears welled up at the corners of your eyes. No one had ever warned you that hitting someone would hurt like an absolute nightmare! It ] wasn’t like that in the movies!

Your gaze landed on Eddie, and you noticed a peculiar expression take over the young metalhead’s face – His brown gaze held something unfamiliar, a look you had never seen throughout the time you had been admiring him from afar. I was as though he were seeing you – like he was attempting to decipher the mechanics of your very being. It caught you off guard, this intensity in his stare, and you couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking.

“YOU BITCH! WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM!!!” Jason roared from his sprawled position on the ground.

Reluctantly tearing your gaze away from Eddie, you redirected it toward the fallen boy who cut a rather pathetic figure at your feet. Curling your lip in disdain, you adopted your most haughty tone and huffed, "You, Jason Carver, are the problem here!"

Jason, still sprawled on the floor with a nosebleed, glared up at you, his anger palpable, "You little—"

Before he could finish his sentence, you cut him off with a stern gesture. "Save it, Jason. You had this coming."

A stunned silence blanketed the cafeteria, every eye fixed on the unfolding confrontation. It was as if time had frozen, and the entire room held its breath in rapt attention as Hawkins' princess unleashed her verbal assault on the school's reigning king.

In that moment, you felt like you had the entire cafeteria in a chokehold, and you were determined not to let this opportunity slip away, not after what Jason had put Eddie through. Gathering your resolve, you continued, your voice dripping with disdain, "Do you honestly believe you can bully and belittle people just because they don't conform to your narrow definition of 'normal'? Well, I've had enough of your toxic attitude! You, my dear Jason, are the most insufferable idiot I've ever had the displeasure of encountering in my entire life! And I am done catering to whatever you and your dumb friends say!”

Jason struggled to get up, wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. Turning back to Jason, you crossed your arms and delivered your final message with authority. "Consider this a warning, Jason. Mess with Eddie or anyone else again, and you'll have me to answer to."

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!" Principal Higgins' thunderous voice pierced through the otherwise eerily silent cafeteria. In an instant, your confidence evaporated, leaving you feeling pale and exposed. You were caught off guard, unable to process what to do or say.

Before you could even react, a familiar, warm hand firmly grabbed yours, yanking you along as they sprinted in the opposite direction, forcefully pushing people out of the way. It was a grip you knew well, and you didn't hesitate to follow Eddie as he practically dragged you toward the exit of the cafeteria.

The scene you left behind was nothing short of chaotic. The entire school stood in a collective stupor, mouths agape in disbelief. Jason Carver, his face an alarming shade of red, appeared on the brink of an aneurysm as he struggled to regain his composure. Principal Higgins, in his authoritative fury, barked orders at the bewildered students, demanding answers and an immediate end to the commotion.

As you reached the exit and the clamor of the cafeteria began to fade, you couldn't help but let out a giggle of exhilaration. Eddie continued to lead you, now behind the school building and into the dense woods that bordered the campus. The farther you ventured into the secluded forest, the more you appreciated the sudden escape from the madness. Eventually, Eddie brought you to a worn-out picnic table, the wood weathered by years of exposure to the elements. Eddie finally managed to catch his breath. He exhaled heavily and asked, "What the hell... hfff... was that?!"

You leaned against the picnic table, still catching your own breath, and grinned at Eddie. "That, Eddie, was me finally giving Jason Carver a taste of his own medicine. That douchebag had it coming!"

Eddie let out a loud surprised laugh while still trying to catch his breath, his eyes still wide from the unexpected turn of events. "Well, I've gotta say, sweetheart, that was quite the show back there. You really let him have it, you got a mean hook princess." A warm flush of pride swept over you as you soaked in Eddie's praises. How long had you waited to hear him say something like that—to acknowledge you and gaze at you as if you were the most wonderful girl in the world? It was a feeling you had been yearning for so long, and if you were to die right now, you would die happy!

Eddie's warm, chocolate-coloured gaze landed on you, and it felt as though it softly swept over every inch of your being. He spoke, his voice filled with curiosity, "I don't think anyone was expecting Hawkins' princess to come to the defence of the 'freak.' You know they won't let you forget this, right? Why would you risk all that for little old me, Harrington?"

You let out a sigh, the weight of his inquisitive gaze pressing on you. As you closed your eyes briefly, you grappled with the emotions that had been swirling within you since the first time you had laid eyes on Eddie. A small smile crept onto your lips as you slowly opened your eyes, fixing them on the boy of your dreams. "You're worth it, Munson."

Eddie drew in a sharp breath, taking three steps closer to you. His large, warm hands, bearing tiny scars from playing the guitar, gently swept across your cheeks as he gazed intently into your eyes. "Do you mean that, Harrington? Because there's no going back if I kiss you right now—it's you and me, the princess and the 'freak.' You won’t climb back from that fall.”

You glanced at your right hand, the knuckles scraped and the skin raw, with a slight swelling on your wrist. "I think it's a little too late for that anyway," you sheepishly admitted. Eddie smiled warmly, his eyes filled with admiration, before gently taking your hand in his two larger ones. He slowly brought your bruised knuckles to his mouth, planting a soft kiss on each of them, causing your breath to hitch.

"Who knew that the princess of Hawkins High was Indiana’s future boxing champion," Eddie softly joked, his voice laced with affection. "I just feel bad for this pretty, soft hand – all bruised and battered to protect me, like the prettiest knight in pink armor coming to my rescue." You couldn't help but swoon at his words as Eddie continued to softly kiss your hand, his gaze slowly lifting to meet yours, his eyes filled with… Love? Tenderness? A girl could dream.

A warm smile curved across Eddie's lips, and he leaned in, capturing your mouth with his in a searing kiss. As you both savored each other, Eddie's hand slowly wrapped around the base of your neck, holding you close to him. As you were trying not to faint from the sheer pleasure this moment was bringing you, a flash of remembrance rushed through you, snapping you back from your trance and causing you to break the kiss and catch your breath. You whispered softly against Eddie's lips, "What about Chrissy?"

Eddie nuzzled your face with his nose, his lips brushing lightly against your skin. "What about her?" he retorted playfully. "I mean... I thought... I thought you had a thing for her," you admitted meekly.

Eddie smirked against your cheek. "If I did, I wouldn't be kissing you right now, right?" His voice held a teasing edge as he continued to shower your neck with tender kisses.

You closed your eyes, feeling a mix of contradicting emotions – wanting to keep going to feel more of him, wishing him to stop playing with your heart because you weren’t sure you could take it anymore. "I mean it, Eddie... I don't want to be your second choice."

Eddie stopped his ministrations and returned to your face, holding your gaze with his. "You were always my first choice, Eddie," you confessed, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. "And I don't think I could handle being your backup plan."

Eddie's whispers were tender as he wiped away the tears that had begun to roll down your cheeks. "Nononono, sweetheart. Don't cry, please," he implored softly. "You were always my first choice." His words held a reassuring sincerity that began to soothe your racing heart. But you wouldn’t be so easily swayed, as much as you loathed Jason Carver, you had witnessed first hand how Eddie seemed enraptured with Chrissy.

You huffed in disbelief, but Eddie insisted, urging you to meet his gaze. "No, it's true. Hey, look at me," he gently encouraged. "I never thought I would ever have a chance with a girl like you. You know, you're like my dream girl, right?" You gave him an uncertain look, still wrestling with your doubts. "You always stare at Chrissy, though. And you did ask me if she was still with Jason, remember?"

Eddie released your cheeks and took a step back, embarrassment tinging his cheeks as he used a piece of his shaggy hair to shield himself from you. "I wasn't looking at Chrissy. You're always with Chrissy, so I was looking at you," he admitted, his voice tinged with shyness. "And I only asked you that because I panicked. I was going to ask you out, but the guys had been teasing me for weeks, telling me I was too much of a coward to do it. I guess they were right because I chickened out."

As Eddie continued, his embarrassment grew, and he took another step back. He held the piece of hair in front of his face, as if to hide himself from you. "I've actually had a crush on you since last year," he confessed, his words shocking you.

"Are you joking?!" you blurted out, astonished.

He shook his head, his warm brown eyes holding your gaze. "Not at all, princess," he began with a soft smile. "It was last year. You were on your way back from cheer practice, and you were in a hurry, holding a huge backpack. It happened so fast that you didn't even realize a book had fallen out."

His eyes sparkled as he continued, his tone becoming more animated. "I saw it lying there, and curiosity got the best of me – I picked it up, and to my surprise, it was a copy of 'The Hobbit.’” He grinned as if sharing a secret. "I was planning to return it to you, honestly, but then, when I opened it, I saw that there was a bunch of notes in the margins." Eddie started grinning even more as he continued “All there in the margins, notes, thoughts, musings. It was like reading your mind with every turn of the page. Your insights, your emotions, your laughter, and even your frustrations were all there in the margins. I knew I had stumbled upon the most precious treasure in the universe – it was a private window into you."

Your breath hitched at his words, and as Eddie spoke, you felt a warmth spreading through you, "It felt like we were close," Eddie continued, his gaze never leaving yours. "I couldn't put the book down. It was like having a conversation with you, even when you weren't around. I realized how much we had in common, how you saw the world, and it fascinated me.”

The thought that Eddie had held onto that copy of 'The Hobbit,' with your notes and thoughts, all this time was both surprising and heartwarming. Damn, he was perfect.

"Fuck, I sound so creepy," Eddie confessed, breaking your reverie. He scratched the back of his head, looking sheepish.

But you weren’t creeped out, far from it. For the first time in your life, you felt completely understood by someone – inside and out. "No, Eddie," you whispered softly, your heart swelling with love. "You don't sound creepy at all. You sound... perfect." A sweet cocky grin got etched on Eddie’s lips “Perfect, eh?”

Getting overwhelmed by his stare, you tried to play it cool and diverted his question by teasingly asking, "So you’ve had a big fat crush on me for a while, right?"

Eddie chuckled, taking a step closer to you, his gaze locked on yours. "Don't get too high and mighty, princess," he said with a warm smile, his voice laced with adoration. "From the looks of it, you've got a pretty big crush on little old me too…"

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you let out a soft giggle, feeling a delightful warmth in the pit of your stomach. "I can neither confirm nor deny that," you replied in a sing-song voice, your eyes never leaving his.

Eddie's smile deepened, his gaze filled with affection. With a tender touch, he placed his hands on your waist, and before you knew it, he had spun you around. You couldn't help but let out a joyful squeak as you twirled together in a sweet, romantic dance. As he gently lowered you back to the ground, his strong arms remained securely wrapped around your back, pulling you close.

In that intimate moment, it felt as though the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you entwined in each other's embrace. Your breaths synchronized, and you lost yourselves in each other's eyes, the unspoken promise of a beautiful future passing between you.

"Hey, Eddie," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath but filled with affection and longing.

Eddie's gaze softened even more, his eyes filled with tenderness as he held you close. "Yeah, princess?"

With a radiant smile, you leaned in closer to him, your heart singing with love. "I've got a big fat crush on you too."

A soft, contented sigh escaped Eddie's lips, and he held you even tighter as if he never wanted to let you go. "Good." And without another word, he pressed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. Nothing ever tasted sweeter.

“You gonna be alright sitting with the freaks now?” “As long as I sit with you Eddie, I could not care less.”

The fallen princess and the freak," you thought contentedly, "that has the ringing of a love story for the ages.” And all it took was that punch you threw at Jason Carver's face for you and Eddie to find your way to each other.

#eddie x y/n #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fandom #stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #chrissy cunningham #jason carver

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splitster · 1 year ago

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answering more POM WRAITH au/Pingo asks!!

featuring: biology questions, creatures, dingo (unfortunately), and more!! check it out ↓↓

she does need sleep! she doesn't need to sleep as often as people, but she's a little wraith and she needs to snooze every like... i dunno. three days? sure, let's go with that.

although in the first few days of her being on PNF404, i could see her getting bored one night and poking around her crewmate's rooms to see what they're doing (spoilers: they're all just sleeping). in the morning after, dingo talks about a very bizarre dream he had with a specter watching him sleep! everyone dismisses it as the ranger having some weird sleep paralysis, but pom's sweating at the table thinking about how she should be way more careful if she does that again.

this ask did inspire me though, i'll probably make more art explaining how she works sometime later hehe...

that'd be scary... although, if there's anyone incentivized to wraithify olimar, it'd probably be the plasm wraith! that golden goo is really fond of him, and they'd love to make olimar just like them

WAHH THANK YOU!!! if they ever dated and got married they'd be able to save on a dress! hehe

she might look kinda scary but she's a sweetheart!! pom would genuinely struggle to make herself hurt humans. if there's a beast threatening her crew though -- that thing is mince meat!!

WAAAHHH THANK YOU!! it's definitely a challenge to make it fit with the other wraiths but still be unique... it was fun to design though!!

IM SORRY i didn't get to your ask before i actually posted the full wraith design... there she is though!! HILAHERHLIAEERH

yes!! he's the first one to discover her secret. it'd probably happen on accident out on the field pretty early on when pom is forced to defend herself with no pikmin, but it's no difference to Oatchi -- pom is pom! he'd bark and give her helmet a lick, and when pom realizes her rescue pup isn't scared of her it's quite the relief...

i have art of oatchi and wraith pom i'll be posting later!!

WAHHH... this is cute i like this hehe!! dingo sees those striking X eyes and still falls in love!! GRRRR i must draw more pingo now...

AUGH.... OK!! more pingo on the way then boss 🫡 (i do appreciate it though lmao)

she doesn't need to eat human food, but she does need to consume living creatures for biomass! human food is definitely delicious and she very much enjoys things like chocolate or hot coco, but to sustain her form and keep up energy she has to go for creatures

i'll probably make art for this later to explain better, but it is kinda like an amoeba -- after killing something, she can cover it and dissolve it with her goo. easy peasy!

Louie: You're a wraith? I thought you were just weird like me Pom: ... Louie: ... Can you go get creatures for me

pom is trying her best to understand human social cues and etiquette but it's a struggle sometimes!

i took psychic damage from this ask thank you for penis ringo💖

YES!!!!!!!!! there are so, so many ways that could happen and each one is hilarious... i've written out a few different scenarios, i should pick one to draw out... it'd be funny if dingo learns her secret but decides to trust her and keep it safe. but he's, you know. dingo. he's not good at lying, especially to his crewmates (and especially to his actual childhood friend of a doctor who was already very suspicious of the new blood!)

of COURSE i'm very abnormal about those two.... actually if y'all have scenarios you wanna see with those two, send more asks and i'll probably end up drawing them lol

that's actually a really good question! i haven't thought too much about how her full wraith would visually change, but if she ate enough and got stronger i imagine she'd finally be as big as the other two. she'd probably gain more wraithy abilities and attacks! trying to take down a powered up full wraith pom would be a very difficult fight, even for those with the best dandori skills and a full squad of pikmin

Pom: I can't let anyone find out my secret... Shepherd: I can't let anyone find out my secret... Collin: I can't let anyone find out my secret... Dingo: I can't let anyone find out my secret... Yonny: this is gonna be fun Bernard: (doesn't care if people find out) Russ: (doesn't care if people find out) Oatchi: bark

#modpost #modask #pom wraith au #thank you all for the asks!!#i'm gonna try to keep the asks in batches like these #i still have a bunch to get to #pingo

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nephilimcursed · 3 months ago

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Bella & The Boys Headcannons~ Laito Edition

TW: This has some triggering content.

"You've been locked in here forever and you just can't say goodbye~ Your lips, my lips, Apocalypse"

OKAY, Y'all know I love Kanato the best- BUT BELLA/LAITO IS JUST WOW-

They're so cute, I swear.

Bella wasn't clueless to all of his remarks, contrary to what y'all might think. She actually gets annoyed though.

She was hit on a lot during Shadowhunter training, by her own instructors. So being around Laito at first makes her cringe bad.

Yeah, she lowkey is done with him at first. Still drawn to him due to having a personality that was intended for him, but hella fed up.

But when she starts to fall- holy fucking shit.

When I write Bella/Laito scenes they don't feel like a stereotypical romance, like Bella/Kanato.

We all know the diaboys never really will change- so Bella was crafted as a mirror, to fit their interest.

So she starts falling for him and tries to get him to engage in deeper talks with her, like about all kinds of things, his interests and stuff.

He taught her piano and they play together.

Laito starts falling for Bella and he's wondering 'Um, what the actual fuck is this??'

He tries to kill her, because he's so scared of what's happening, but he can't bring himself to put the knife deeper in her chest. So she's just wounded.

And by this time, she has a stele again so she can just draw a rune on herself to heal.

So once she does draw that rune on, she's kinda pissed but at the same time quickly gets how scary this must be for him.

Then he tries to kill himself.

To which Bella has to try to calm him down and get him out of his panic attack, so we get a cute cuddle session.

I think seeing Laito in a more sweet tone is just, chef's kiss.

So once she tries to explain to him, he's also kinda '??????'

Doesn't accept it right away.

But then she asks if she has a different effect on him than most other girls.

You can see where I'm going with this.

So onto real headcannons- THEY ALSO ARE SUPER PHYSICAL WITH LOVE.

They're always touching each other in some way- I swear-

The other boys sometimes get jealous.

Laito will randomly sneak into her bed alot, like Ayato did in the anime with Yui.

This one is also super sweet. In Shadowhunter training, they only really teach you stuff to survive and stuff to fit in with higher class society if needed to blend in.

So Bella is clueless about her own body-

Her anatomy, I mean.

Laito is the one to teach her, because he got to talk with her before Reiji did.

He kinda did a good job explaining it?? He tried to do it in a more scientific manner but failed at times and made some jokes.

He also explained male anatomy. Was also a little bad at that-

She ended up getting the gist of it though.

Fucking god- this man is actually so sweet when he wants to be.

Okay, so as y'all know, Bella has an eating disorder because of what The Clave always forces her to do: Work without eating.

So she will go days without food.

Once Reiji and the others all get her to eat at least three meals a day, she starts getting to a healthy weight for her body type (curvy).

But she gets so insecure then.

She was so used to being stick thin, so she never thought her body would change in a way that made her thicker.

It gets to the point where she even tries to starve herself yet again.

Cue Laito to the rescue.

He would basically rave about her every attribute until her ears were sore. Touching, caring, just showing her why she shouldn't be insecure.

Feeds her personally, and expects to be fed back.

He definitely makes her feel pretty again.

Bella isn't vain, but she's just not used to such a thing changing.

Takes her out to candlelit dinners a lot.

Bella doesn't like his fedora by the way, she takes it off all the time.

Laito always laughs though and puts it on her head instead-

"Lai, stop trying to put it on me! I'm not a fucking idiot like you-"

"You love it~"

"Ew, gross-"

They're so silly like that whole exchange would have been teasing on both sides.

Their dates are all in intimate places, not a big crowd. Laito uses his dad's credit card to pay-

He spoilssssss her too. Expensive gifts like designer clothes and lingerie. (EVEN THOUGH SHE CRINGED AT THE LINGERIE-)

In return, she's always trying to do anything for him. In an SFW manner of course.

She slept with him first the day before her birthday, [Not going into detail, don't worry]

Bella was avoiding it though, because she didn't want Laito (or any of the triplets) to start thinking she was just like their mother.

But she gave up and into her craving for him when he convinced her, she still prays he won't see her as another version of that woman because she cares way too much to fuck him over in any way.

She dies the very next day, due to Karlheinz poisoning her tea.

Laito is fucking sobbing as hard as Kanato is and panicking as much as Reiji is when she's foaming at the mouth.

When she dies, he goes ballistic.

Once they kill Karlheinz he's even more upset somehow. Because the pain she felt from the poison was nothing like how they killed Karl.

Visits her grave a lot. A lot, lot.

He keeps what he bought for her as memories.

Laito was devastated.

#diabolik lovers #bella wayland #laito sakamaki #diabolik lovers ask blog #bella sakamaki #sakamaki laito #raito sakamaki #sakamaki raito #diabolik lovers laito #dialovers laito #laito x reader #dl oc #oc #diabolik lovers oc #ocs #my ocs #oc rp #original character

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sunnyie-eve · 2 months ago

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26 | Crushes

Series: Unexpected

Paring: (Matt Sturniolo x OFC Brock!) (Chris Sturniolo x OFC Brock!)

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: none

| MASTERLIST |

Meanwhile Dani and Mary Lou were on the couch watching stand by me and still chatting. Marylou adored Dani as she talked about her life and how she was with the boys as well.

"And you knew Nick before your brother and them met up, correct?"

"Yes, about for two years before they got together filming. I never reached out to Matt or Chris. I wanted to but never did it and I told Matt this when we were stuck in the elevator." Dani lets her know.

"Now tell me how and why Matt invited you to move in with them. Nick told me something about an old friend of yours."

"Yes, to sum it up she was stealing money, making me pay more for rent than I needed to, and didn't believe her boyfriend at the time was creepy around me when alone." Dani sums it up, "When I called her out on the phone Matt was with me so he heard it all go down. So when she kicked me out, he knew I didn't want to go back to my brother's."

"Oh, so he already said, hey move in with us, before talking to his brothers?"

"Yeah, he told me they wouldn't have a problem with it. And mind you Matt has only known me for a few days at this point. You really did raise great boys." Dani gives her a smile so Marylou moves closer to her on the couch.

"Now you can tell me and I'm great at keeping secrets. Do you have a little crush on him?" She whispers the last part incase anyone walked in.

"Do I have a crush on Matt?" Dani asks making his mom smile.

"Or maybe Chris?"

"Umm, honestly..." Dani starts to laugh, "I've never taken the time to think about because both boys are amazing, they really are. Each has their own characteristics I love that make them them." Dani starts.

"So you don't have feelings?" Marylou is watches her closely.

"I think I might..." Dani starts them they stop seeing Nick enter the room.

"Just getting drinks." Nick lets them know before leaving the room.

"Watch him forget my drink." Chris says as they wait for Nick to come back.

"Mom and Dani are literally giggling and huddled together on the couch watching a movie." Nick tells them as he gives Chris his soda.

- Days later -

"Hey guys, it's me again. Today I'll answer some of y'all's questions while I get ready for the day."

"What do I normally do first?" Dani looks around at all her stuff, "Okay, first let's put my hair up out of the way. And yes, I have a new hair color. Nick talked me into it." Dani starts her skincare routine before makeup.

"I actually feel hot as a blonde. He said it's only fair if I give it a try like he did in the past."

"I've seen a mixture of reactions to me with the boys in Boston. Some love seeing me and the guys get super close but others hate it. It's because I'm trying to push my way into their life. Which isn't true. If anything, they are forcing me to be with them. But I love getting to know their parents and Justin. They have been very welcoming. They make you feel like part of the family. Which I love so much."

"A few of you guys are asking about that date I went on..." Dani starts to laugh, " And no, I won't go on another date with that person. He wasn't very pleased that my roommates are three guys. Even though my Instagram bio lets people know that. He didn't even trust Nick so I told him well this isn't going to work. Like how can you not trust Nick?"

"The next topic is one of the most asked questions..." She messes with her makeup, "Matt and Chris Sturniolo." She sighs.

"What is my relationship with them? Do I have a crush on one or both of them? Any secrets going on off camera?" She lists the main ones, "Sorry but there's nothing going on with either of them. I just have a very close playful friendship with them. They're both great guys and I love them to death. I'm happy I got to get close with them."

"I can't say if I have a crush..." She chuckles while doing her makeup still, "That's my business if I do or not, but as I've stated in the past both are very good looking. That's all you'll get from me, sorry y'all."

"Some of y'all will take that in the opposite direction. Honestly, I don't care what most of you guys think. I know what's real and what's not real. I wish some people weren't so hardheaded. Some of y'all care about our dating life a bit too much. Like not all relationships have to be public, but I promise we are all single."

As Dani moves on to doing eye shadow and while she was doing it Nick enters the room, "I just need to get my charger." He lets her know.

"It's okay. Nick just walked in so I'm not talking to myself." Dani lets the viewers know, "But yeah do what you need to do. Also it's your room so you don't need to act like you're intruding." She lets him know.

"We're all going out to lunch." Dani lets the viewers know, "That's why I'm getting pretty." Dani finishes up her look.

"Oh, you should wear that shirt we got yesterday." Nick tells her still in the room since he decided to sit and watch her get ready.

"That actually would go well with what I was planning on wearing. I wanna be slightly peppy today." She agrees with him as he looks for the shirt for her.

"Thank you for watching. See y'all next time." She ends the recording.

"Don't you look beautiful." Mary Lou smiles as Dani joins her in the kitchen.

"Thank you." She gets a Dr Pepper out of the fridge.

"What's the plan today for you kids?" Mary Lou asks as Dani opens her soda.

"We're going out to lunch and Nate is supposed to join us as well. I'll be fifth wheeling with the boys." Dani laughs going to take a drink but Matt snatches it to take the first sip before giving it back to her. "Must you" She asks him.

"Sharing is caring." He gives her a hug from behind making his mom smile at them.

"Well I don't care to share." She gets out of his arms.

"Mom, tell her that's not nice."

"Sharing is the nice thing to do but we have plenty of drinks for you to get your own." Mary Lou tells him.

"I can't believe this." Matt looks at the two as they laugh at him.

#sam golbach #colby brock #sam and colby #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #oc #sibilings #matt sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo imagine #ff #fanifiction #fanfic #sturniolo fanfic #best friends #friends to lovers #chris sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic

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ozmatippetarius · 2 years ago

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I am once again asking you to put some respect on Charles's name. He's bewilderingly under-appreciated as a character despite being really complex and well-developed. I see a crazy number of people say they hate him completely without nuance, for a novel where reading deeply and questioning everything is the entire point. Anyway, here's something you might have missed if you shotgunned the book and then have lived off of fanon ever since until you forgot what was actually in the text.

Charles is almost certainly a CSA victim

A major motif of The Secret History is the extent to which childhood trauma has shaped these characters' current actions. Henry was neglected by his father, so he latches onto Julian now. Francis has a codependent relationship with his addict mother that has obviously shaped his actions with Charles. Richard grew up in an abusive family and finds himself forced into a mediator role now; he grew up in poverty and latches onto the first wealthy group that will accept him.

For some reason a lot of readers seem to think that the twins' issues instead developed totally in a vacuum? That they just spontaneously developed an incestuous relationship in adulthood, for the drama of it?

You all know that would be bad writing, would be awful. But you refuse to examine it any closer. You say "the incest is gross" and decide you're just not going to think any more about it, because it makes you uncomfortable.

So let's see if we can ferret out a better explanation. What are some of the risk behaviors we see from Charles?

Substance Abuse - shouldn't need much of an explanation, I think pretty much everybody picked up on this.

Eating Disorder - seems to have been missed by a lot more people, but a major part of why Charles ended up in the hospital is that he simply stopped eating. When Richard and Francis take him to lunch after getting out, he refuses to eat even when they are begging him. Afterwards, we're told he's subsisting entirely off of peanuts for the rest of the novel.

Sexual Risk Behavior - his relationship with Camilla, clearly.

Trust Issues - his relationship with Richard is dripping with this. He spends the entire second half of the novel begging Richard not to betray him ("You're my friend, aren't you?" "You wouldn't go behind my back, would you?") and at the final showdown, Richard is the person he is most angry with, for breaking that trust.

Revictimization - y'all aren't going to like this, but his relationship with Francis is absolutely this.

What do all these bullets have in common? They're all common long term effects of childhood sexual assault.

Hey, remember that sequence shortly before Bunny is killed where he's antagonizing every member of the group individually by taunting them about their secrets he could expose? For Henry, obviously he's threatening to expose the farmer's death. For Richard, his lies about his wealthy background. For Camilla, her incestuous relationship. For Francis, his homosexuality. So what about Charles- what's he threatening to expose here? He wouldn't randomly leave out one of the group, right? Well, let's roll the clip.

If he treated Henry with deference, it was the rest of us who were forced to bear the wearing, day-to-day brunt of his anger. Most of the time he was simply irritating: for example, in his ill-informed and frequent tirades against the Catholic Church. Bunny’s family was Episcopalian, and my parents, as far as I knew, had no religious affiliation at all; but Henry and Francis and the twins had been reared as Catholics; and though none of them went to church much, Bunny’s ignorant, tireless stream of blasphemies enraged them. With leers and winks he told stories about lapsed nuns, sluttish Catholic girls, pederastic priests (“So then, this Father What’s-His-Name, he said to the altar boy—this kid is nine years old, mind you, he’s in my Cub Scout troop—he says to Tim Mulrooney, ‘Son, would you like to see where me and all the other fathers sleep at night?’ ”). He invented outrageous stories of the perversions of various Popes; informed them of little-known points of Catholic doctrine; raved about Vatican conspiracies, ignoring Henry’s bald refutations and Francis’s muttered asides about social-climbing Protestants. What was worse was when he chose to zero in on one person in particular. With some preternatural craftiness he always knew the right nerve to touch, at exactly the right moment, to wound and outrage most. Charles was good-natured, and slow to anger, but he was sometimes so disturbed by these anti-Catholic diatribes that his very teacup would clatter upon its saucer.

His Catholicism? Charles, the group member most morally affronted by the idea of killing and also the most affectionate towards Bunny, comes around to the idea of murder because Bunny is making fun of his Catholicism, something that hasn't been mentioned before and never will be again? Something that has been consistently shown to bother Francis and Henry more?

Connect the dots, here - Charles isn't triggered to the point of physically shaking because Bunny is making fun of Catholics, something we know that he's been doing for years. He's triggered because Bunny is taunting him with stories about adult men molesting young boys, in front of everybody.

Anyway, this isn't a defense of Charles's treatment of Camilla. Obviously "hurt people hurt people" isn't meant as an excuse or a hand-wave. But it is an explanation. Charles is, like every other character in this novel, a flawed person who does some terrible things with complex motivations, and he deserves the same amount of respect you give the other flawed characters who do terrible things with complex motivations.

#the secret history #charles macaulay #francis abernathy

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 5 months ago

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Part 27

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 26 🟣 Part 28

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: Fluff, ongoing vampire shenanigans, angst, lore, some more angst. And something called Disgruntled Teenageer Syndrome.

Word count: 3k

A/N: I know I've been teasing y'all with some beautiful warnings on a very lovely chapter involving a ver feral Marshall and a very suddenly present August... Well... This ain't it! (It's the next one, so please put your pitchforks down :c )

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @summersong69 @mis-lil-red

@sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld @proud-aroace-beastie

@plaidcat4815 @wa-ni @lovemusicpart2 @lizzystuffsthings @manysecrets2020

@sarcasmoverlordxo

“August?” Your footsteps echoed through the hallway, which looked suspiciously empty and rug-less, unlike the rest of the house — however much or little you’d seen of it, anyway.

“Yes, princess? Why are you—” He probably finished that sentence, but you couldn’t hear, because you’d bumped into something, and your phone was now lying on the floor with a massive crack in the screen. When you looked around to find the cause of your phone’s untimely demise, you were suddenly faced with none other than Charles Brandon.

“Terribly sorry,” he muttered. A suspiciously cold hand landed on your shoulder with slightly too much force. “Priya just called to let me know she’s feeling a lot better. She’ll be back later this week, so this won’t happen again. Were you… calling August?”

You nodded — an answer that clearly confused Charles. “Why? He’s home.”

“I can’t find anyone in this damn house. Where am I, even?”

“About as far away from August as the house allows,” he said with a slight chuckle to his voice. “The others are closer.” You barely spotted him casting a quick glance over your shoulder, and before you could turn around, he tightened his grip on your shoulder, preventing you from moving. “Tell me who’s behind you.”

“Do you think I have eyes in the back of my head or something?” You rolled your eyes at Charles, wishing you could somehow wipe the annoyed expression off his face.

“You don’t need your eyes,” he said on a sigh. And here you were, thinking Mike was the impatient one… “You’re connected to them on a level you can’t even comprehend. You can sense them.”

You glared at Charles. If you could sense them, you would, right? The fact that you didn’t was quite the indication that you couldn’t.

He reached for your cheek, gently trailing an icy knuckle along your cheekbone. “Poor thing,” he murmured. Was he closer to you? Were his eyes bluer? His smile kinder? “They’ve not taught you half of what you can do. I—” The chill left behind by his fingers lingered, but Charles had disappeared.

“I hope for his sake that August didn’t see that,” Marshall muttered behind you. “Are you alright?”

“What just happened?” you asked as you turned around, only to find Marshall a lot closer to you than expected.

“You’ll have to talk to Charles. I doubt he’s entirely sure of what happened… Sherlock should kn—”

“Sherlock already knows.” Another body appeared behind you — Sherlock, of course. “I’m afraid he’s locked himself away for too long…” Something about the tone in which he spoke spread the lingering cold throughout your body, allowed it to seep into your bones.

“Don’t worry about it right now, love,” Marshall said as he wrapped his arms around you. It didn’t help much. Don’t worry about it? Right. You’d worry as you damn well pleased, thank you very much! “We might focus on that point he made, first. It was a good one.”

Before you knew it, you were in the living room — a living room? How many of those did this place even have?

“Two. Not including the one in Charles’ suite,” Marshall helpfully provided, and before you could even think of saying something, he added: “We’re all well aware this house is absolutely ridiculous.”

“Alright, alright…” Mike excitedly flapped his hands at no one in particular. “Why did you drag her here?”

“I’m assuming it’s because she keeps getting lost?” August asked.

“Yes,” you admitted. “And Charles scared me into dropping my phone, which is now dead, so I can’t call you anymore, and…”

“I finally get to buy you a new phone?” He’d been begging you to let him replace your phone for months now, but you’d always refused him. You were not about to enable his tech-buying mania. Besides, your phone had always worked fine. Alright! It had been falling apart at the seams, but it worked, so it was fine. That excuse was gone now.

“More importantly,” Marshall said, eyeing Mike in a ‘calm down’ kind of way, “we were just more or less accused of keeping her in the dark on her own abilities. And rightfully so.”

You watched them discuss your conversation with Charles for a moment, not entirely sure what was going on, but the idea seemed to be that your connection to the guys should allow you to sense their presence without having to be near them, and it was something that needed some training. Training you would be receiving right now.

“And how would that work?” you finally asked, fighting back a smile when the guys looked at you with guilt in their eyes. “Yeah, I’m still here.”

The guys stayed quiet for a while, until… “We’re not doing that, August.”

“I didn’t…” He looked at you with suspicion in his eyes. He didn’t what?

“Looks like August’s thoughts aren’t safe from you anymore, either,” Marshall chuckled, smiling wider as he looked at the increasingly confused look on August’s face. “We recently found out she has an aptitude for my gift.”

Safe to say, August wasn’t amused by this revelation.

“So, since blindfolds are out,” Marshall continued the previous conversation, leaving an unintelligibly grumbling August to his sulking. “Sherlock? Any ideas?”

“Naturally,” he replied dryly. “But I’m afraid depriving you of sight will most definitely be part of the first exercise, darling.”

And that’s how you ended up on a chair in the living room with a blindfold, while the guys took turns standing in front of you, making you tell them who it was. You got it wrong a depressing number of times, if you did say so yourself.

“Sweetcheeks, listen,” Mike’s hands appeared on your shoulders. Wait. Those weren’t Mike’s…

“This is trippy, guys,” you said, trying to yank your blindfold off, but Marshall’s hands were — of course — faster than yours.

“What is?” Mike asked again. The sound came from the right place… Were you wrong? No.

“Marshall touching me while you are talking. It’s strange, okay?” For lack of a better term, because this whole thing had been strange from the beginning, to say the least.

“Okay, so you know it’s him because you know what it feels like when he touches you,” Mike said with a little too much of a suggestive edge to his voice. He continued, and his voice moved away from you, until he was standing in front of you. “You know what it feels like when he’s near you, too. You’ve just never paid attention to it.”

“I don’t know how!” you cried out in frustration. “What am I supposed to feel?”

“Do you remember our conversation about coven bonds?” August chimed in. You nodded. “Great. You’re bound to us in the same way we are to each other.”

“Interesting, but ultimately unhelpful,” you sighed.

“I didn’t want to bring this up,” Mike said carefully. “But when August divorced us, so to speak… You must have felt that, right?”

You nodded again, wincing involuntarily at the unpleasant memory. The feeling that something snapped. The sharp pain… No! This had to end, you couldn’t go through that again, you…

“Keep going, Sweetcheeks,” Mike encouraged you in a strained voice. Was this hurting him as much as it was hurting you? “You’re almost there, I know you can feel it.”

“God knows he does,” August said, confirming your suspicions and sounding a little too happy about the situation. “He’s right, though, you’ve almost got it.”

“You said the ties weren’t tangible,” you complained, gritting your teeth in a desperate attempt to fight back tears.

“It would depend on your definition of ‘tangible’, princess,” August sighed. “Get on with it. The sooner you get this, the sooner it stops being uncomfortable.”

And just as you thought you couldn’t handle the pain of that horrible memory for a single second longer, something changed. August was right — though you’d think twice to tell him that. ‘Tangible’ wasn’t the right word. It wasn’t necessarily the wrong word, either.

“It’s complicated,” Marshall said softly. When did you stop wishing he’d stay out of your head?

Sherlock ordered Mike to move around the living room. He didn’t make a sound — of course he didn’t. Vampire. — but you didn’t lose track of his whereabouts even a single time. “This is still weird.”

“Can’t be weirder than all the other things,” Mike said as he wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you tight. “That was great!”

“But it’s just you.” You pouted at him, and then looked at the others. “I still don’t have a clue about the others.”

“Figuring that out won’t be easier,” Sherlock explained, “but it will entail far fewer risks.”

“What risks?” you demanded, ripping off the blindfold — this time without anyone trying to stop you.

“I may or may not have risked breaking our bond to help you find it,” Mike said, shrugging. Was he just shrugging this off? Motherf—

“You’ll be the death of me,” you said, glaring up at him and his dumb, apologetic smile. “How?”

“Remembering that feeling tugs on those strings,” Mike explained. “It’s uncomfortable, but it allowed you to find it. There was a small chance of you going too deep and…”

“I would have lost you?”

“You’ve repaired your connection before,” August noted. “There’s a very decent chance you could have done that again.”

“I don’t want to do that again, because it sucked,” you snapped, eyeing Mike angrily.

“Water under the bridge, love,” Marshall said, smoothing his hands over your arms. “Now, all you need to do is find where Mike is attached, and look for the rest of us.”

On special occasions such as this one, you missed the way your life had been before apparently attaching yourself to a bunch of vampires.

“You don’t mean that,” Marshall said with a smile.

No. You did not. But this was still weird.

Weird or not, you did what Marshall told you to do, and you were pleased to find that it was indeed not painful this time around. Only significantly more difficult. “I can’t… get a hold of it.”

“You don’t have to, princess,” August sighed. “You just need to feel it.”

“I mean I lose it before I can figure out where it goes,” you snapped back. It probably didn’t help that they were crowding you. Everything felt tangled in a way you couldn’t put into words. “Can you take a step back? Maybe two, even.”

They immediately did as you asked, and the task didn’t necessarily get any easier, but it sure as hell wasn’t as confusing. “I think I’ve figured August and Marshall out, but Sherlock… I’m so sorry.” Why did this bring you to tears? Seriously. Why were you crying?

“That’s okay, darling,” he said gently. “My age is making this more difficult. It’s not you.”

“You should try this with Melot,” Mike added. “I still have trouble finding him sometimes, because—”

“Mike, later.” August snapped. “This is complicated enough without another history lesson, or biology lesson, or any other kind of lesson.”

He was right: this was difficult, and exhausting, and now that you were starting to get the hang of it, you wanted to get in some more practice before you got really tired, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t quite grasp the tether that connected you to Sherlock.

“It will be easier once you’re more comfortable seeking out the others,” Sherlock promised, but it didn’t bring you much comfort at all.

“And his gift doesn’t help, either,” Mike said slightly too enthusiastically. “It’s annoying, the way he kinda pops in and out of existence. It can make it really tough to keep track of him, and—”

“Mike!” August cut through his monologue. “That’s unhelpful, and you’re rambling. She’ll get there when she gets there. I have stuff to do.” No one ever asked August what kind of stuff. You were fairly sure you didn’t necessarily want to know.

Marshall and Sherlock excused themselves as well, and you were left standing around in the living room with just Mikey, who looked at you with a devious glint in his eyes. The kind you knew all too well, and adored more than anything in the world. “Wanna play a game of hide and seek with me?”

Was that a silly suggestion? Sure. Childish, in a way? Absolutely. Did it sound unbelievably fun? Definitely yes. He must have picked up on your enthusiasm, because before you could answer, he was gone, leaving you in the living room all by yourself. Or so you thought.

“What are you waiting for?” Leon was standing right behind you, his lips right next to your ear. “It’s not like you could ever catch up with him.”

“When did you get here?”

“I’ve been here the whole time,” he said, with a devious hint of amusement to his smooth voice. “The lingering tension between you and Marshall is too good to stay away from.”

“So, we won’t be rid of you for a while, then?” you said, faking impatience and disappointment. For some reason, you didn’t mind him lurking around the house.

“I’d like to point out that I live here, too,” he said sharply. “It’s… It used to be tough for me to feed here. A problem that appears to have been solved by your arrival. If you’ll allow me, that is.”

“Allow you to do what, exactly?” Why was it so impossible to get rid of that lump in your throat?

“Napoleon, that’s quite enough.” Charles. “You’re venturing into dangerous territory, as you well know. Though I suspect that only makes the situation all the more enticing to you.” He shook his head, seemingly disappointed.

“Forgive me, father,” Leon said, a devious smirk forming on his face. And then, he was gone.

“Stay away from him,” Charles said on a deep, annoyed sigh.

“Like you stay away from me?” you countered, putting your hands on your hips and conjuring every bit of defiance you could find.

“Yes.”

“I’m trying. He just…”

“Shows up?” Charles asked, quirking an eyebrow. “He does that, yes.”

“So do you,” you huffed. You barely even knew this man, and he was pissing you off thoroughly.

“My apologies.” He sounded sincere. Then again, what the hell did you know? “I’m not quite used to having a guest I attempt to avoid.”

“Then don’t?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have much of a choice. I promise it has nothing to do with you, personally.” Well, that wasn’t reassuring at all. You glared at him, but before you could say anything, he was gone.

With a great deal of effort, you pushed your frustrations with both Leon and Charles aside, and concentrated on your connection with Mike. It was faint, but definitely still there. You had no idea how long you were standing there, but with every passing second, the feeling became clearer — and by the time you opened your eyes, the feeling had become so strong you could almost see it. Now, all you had to do, was follow it.

Mike would make for a nice reward for your efforts.

With every step, the pull became stronger, and it was extremely difficult to go in the wrong direction, as long as you stayed focused on finding Mikey, and your feet almost moved of their own accord. You knew where he was. You knew where to go.

There he was. Behind this door. As soon as you opened it, familiar hands grabbed you and dragged you into the room — although ‘room’ was a bit of an overstatement — and you were pushed against the door as soon as it fell shut behind you.

“You found me,” Mike whispered. His tone was playful, as was the way he playfully bit your earlobe, and then your neck. You prevented his descent between your boobs by pulling his face up to yours.

“Is this a broom closet, Mikey?”

“Yes.” He focused his attention on your neck again. “I couldn’t hide in my room, like… that would have been too obvious! Besides… This is fun.”

You knew that if you tried to deny that, you’d ultimately be unsuccessful, so you didn’t bother. Instead, you pulled Mike’s face to yours and kissed him.

As per usual, he didn’t waste time, slipping his tongue into your mouth with his signature impatience as he lifted you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. Pinned between his body and the door, you spent your time trying not to giggle at his unparalleled enthusiasm. Until the door was gone.

You expected to fall backwards, but Mike held you up — thank God, because you didn’t exactly feel like getting a concussion today. Or any day, for that matter.

“I need a broom.” You recognized Melot’s voice — not that the accent wouldn’t have been a dead giveaway if you hadn’t. To your dismay, Mike put you back on your feet and pulled you into the hallway. “And can you guys get a fucking room, maybe?”

“What’s his problem?” you asked when Melot disappeared as suddenly as he’d shown up.

“Disgruntled teenager syndrome,” August chuckled. You’d stopped wondering where they came from. Vampire fast, vampire here. Simple. “He’s a little lost, now that his role as patriarch of the family has been passed on to Sherlock.”

“He never had much of a childhood, did he?” you wondered out loud.

“Did you hear him when he said he’d been married for nearly six years before he was turned into a vampire at age nineteen?” August asked, showing some of that signature derisive tone he’d always used with you before you entered into your agreement with the guys. You nodded. Of course you’d heard that. “Did you, by any chance, do the math?”

Honestly, you’d been a little preoccupied with the heaps of information that had been flung your way at the time, so no, you hadn’t. But now that August mentioned it… He’d been…

“Fourteen,” August whispered. “He got married when he was fourteen.”

You considered the implications of that for a moment. “Are there therapists for that?”

Both Mike and August laughed at that comment, but you didn’t think it was particularly funny. He’d been married at fourteen. Regardless of whether or not that had been normal at the time, it sure as hell wasn’t now, and…

“There are,” August answered. “And he’ll come around. He’s just looking for his place right now and that’s not an easy thing to figure out.”

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