#it's stupid. i shouldn't be so hung up on this. it's fucking stupid

[spiritualviolation]

.

[sturniqlo]

Drunken Mistake- C.S

summary: frat boy!chris and nerd!y/n have been dating for over a year and thier relationship has had many bumps and he does something unforgivable.

cw: cursing, toxic relationship, ANGST; mentions of bullying, crying, arguing, cheating, break up, rejection

an: wonderful idea by the one and only @monroesturnns | ps. i do not condone cheating! remember this is pure fiction!!

masterlist | join my taglist

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"god, i wish that you had thought this through, before i went and fell in love with you."- traitor, o.r

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-

"Come on, baby." Chris kissed down Y/n's neck as she was writing down some notes. "Just this one party, you haven't been to one of my frat parties in over two months." He continued his trail up to her jaw and eventually landed on her lips. "Chris, you know I don't like parties. I need to finish my notes for my exam. I'll go to the next one, okay?"

"That's what you said two weeks ago! It's the next time! Let's- just stop studying for once and go to this fucking party!" He raises his voice and Y/n sensed an argument boiling. "Watch your tone! You know how important school is to me, my parents sent me here to study! Not to get sucked into the partying lifestyle, that's not me!"

"Yeah, yeah, your parents this tuition that, you're like some fucking nerd! Let loose for once. Fuck!" He gets off of her. "Fuck you! Partying shouldn't be your top priority, Chris. Just stay in for once, miss one little party and study! I haven't seen you open your book in two weeks. Am I going to have to make space in my schedule and tutor you again?"

Before Y/n and Chris got together. They weren't very fond of each other. But, Chris was too busy partying and he was failing his classes. He was on the verge of being kicked out of his fraternity. Somehow Chris got kicked out of living in the frat house- but he was still apart of it- so he moved in with his two brothers. Chris wasn't doing anything about his failing grades so his brothers took care of it.

Their childhood friend, Y/n, was a very smart girl. Nick mentioned it to her when they hung out and she was hesitant at first. But when she realized Nick was concerned for Chris' grades, she agreed. The relationship between Chris and Y/n was rocky at first. It hadn't always been like that. Before high school, they were stuck to the hip but once junior year came along, Y/n started getting bullied by one of the popular girls and guess who ended up dating her? Chris.

Chris had known about this but still chose to date his friends bully. Y/n slowly started distancing herself from Chris. Fast forward four years, she was tutoring him and a couple of months later they eventually started dating.

"God! Are you ever going to let that go? You always bring it up in every fucking argument. Just come to this party!" She shakes her head. "No, whenever I go you always end up with your friends in the corner leaving me alone in a room full of people I don't know! No, is my final answer." Chris grew even more aggravated. "Fine, I'll go alone." He walks towards the bedroom door and opens it. "Just know, you aren't the only girl in my life."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" She said, her anxiety rising. "Exactly as it sounds like." With that, he slammed the door behind him and left. Y/n stayed there, sitting on his bed while he went to the stupid party.

"Where you going?" Matt asks as he sees Chris head for the front door. "A party." He says. "You're going to a party while Y/n is over?" He said. Matt has seen Chris do this a couple of times but he's never asked about it. "Yeah, so what? If she doesn't want to go why should I have to miss it?"

"It's a bit rude. You know? She's here, in your room while you're at a party." Chris scoffs at Matt's words. "Look, I don't need a lecture from you too. Let me live my life, if she doesn't want to go it's up to her that she wants to stay and read her fuckass books." He repeats what he did just a couple of minutes ago. He opens the door and slams it behind him.

Matt goes down the small set of stairs and knocks of Chris' door where Y/n is on the other side of. "Come in." He hears her say. "Hey, it's me. You okay down here?" Her eyes are glossed over and her face has tear marks. "I'm okay. I- you know how Chris is with his parties." She chuckles sadly. "I just wish he would put his school work first sometimes. I mean, he's paying all of this money to just party."

"Why don't you try to talk to him about it?" He says. "I have! All he say is that I should put my work aside and stop being a nerd." Matt shakes his head. Chris has always teased her about focusing on her work.

"Can I ask you something?" She says. "Go ahead." He says nodding. "Has Chris ever- I don't know- has he ever mentioned someone else?" He furrows his eyebrows. "Like, another girl?" She nods. "No, no, if he did you know I would tell you. Why do you ask? You think he's seeing someone else, or?"

"No?" She questions. "He just said something before he left and it had me thinking."

"I'm sure he just said it out of anger. I doubt he'd ever do that to you."

Later that night, around two in the morning, Chris came in stumbling. "Bro, you're drunk as shit." Matt scolded him, helping him down the stairs. "No I'm not." He giggled. "How'd you even get home? You better have not driven." Chris shakes his head. "I walked it. I saw sixty three- no! Sixty eight trees."

Chris opens the door and sees Y/n sleeping. "Okay, you can let me go now." Chris pulls away from Matt and pushes him out the room. "Okay, goodn-" He slams the door, causing Y/n to wake up. "Chris? What are you doing." She whispers. "Look at you, not studying for once. Not being a nerd right now?" He laughs. Y/n rolls her eyes. "I don't have time for this right now." She sighed and gets out of the bed and grabs her phone.

"Babe, I'm only kidding." He grabs her arm as she reaches for the doorknob. "Chris, stop. We'll talk in the morning."

Y/n stirs awake from the constant vibration of her phone. Stretching from her spot on the couch where she slept last night after Chris came back. She grabbed her phone and saw that she had many texts from her friends, even from people she hasn't really spoke to.

Still half asleep, she clicks on a message from a girl in her tuesday class. Furrowing her eyebrows at the message she replies back.

y/n

what's going on?

hailey

*video attachment*

The video started out as a girl posing for pictures. "Yes! Now pose like- oh my god?" The girl recording pointed to two people. "What is it?" She girl posing said and stopped posing. "Isn't that Chris Sturniolo over there?" The girl recording put the phone down but another girl spoke. "No, don't stop recording! Get this, he has a fucking girlfriend. And that isn't her." The camera pans up and Chris comes into view, but he's kissing a girl. Y/n gasps and her heart drops. This was from last night.

"What the hell!" Y/n's voice shakes and she sits up in shock. She continues watching the video. The camera girl zooms in on them. "What a fucking loser, like actually." The two of them continue kissing and Y/n has had enough and shuts her phone off.

Her tears start streaming down her face. How could he? Yeah they were a bit toxic but she never thought Chris would cheat on her. She gets up from her spot in her couch and runs down to Chris' room. Barging in she immediately starts yelling. "Chris, wake the fuck up!" Chris jumps up from his bed. "Is someone dying? What the fuck. My head is pounding." His eyes adjust to the bright lights.

"How could you Chris? Really? How fucking could you?" She cried. "What happened, babe?" He gets up and goes to hug her. "No! Don't fucking touch me! You cheated on me! You- you fucking asshole!" Chris' face went pale. "I- uh- what?!" He stutters over his words. "You don't have shit on me." He shakes his head.

"Don't act stupid! I saw a video of you making out with a girl last night! I don't understand, did you do it out of anger because I didn't go to a fucking party? Or have you been doing this our whole relationship. I- I should've listened to my friends, I can't believe I loved you." Her tears haven't stopped falling down. "Y/n, hear me out." He says hesitantly. "No! How could you explain that. You betrayed me, Chris!"

"I- we're done, Chris. I don't ever want to hear from you again. I've given you so many chances, Chris. So many- but this, I can't forgive you for it." She pauses before she continues on. "Maybe she'll go to all of your frat parties and not stay home like the nerd that I am. I really can't believe you've went this far. Goodbye Chris." She wipes her tears with her sleeve and turns around to leave the room.

"Y/n.." He starts off, but nothing else's comes out.

"Hey, hey, hey, what happened?" Matt gets up from the table when he sees Y/n come up the stairs crying. He had heard them arguing but it was muffled so he decided to go out in case things escalated. He knew they had been a bit tense since last night. "I- ask Chris. I can't- I can't be here right now, I'm sorry." Her voice cracks and she grabs her bag. "I'll see you around." She says before leaving their home.

For the next couple of days, Chris spent them in his room. Napping, watching his and Y/n's favorite show and youtube videos. He sent her many messages and called her many times. They were all ignored. Chris didn't blame her, he fucked up. He didn't know why he did what he did. He was drunk and angry.

Nick and Matt were furious at him. For one, Chris cheated on her. And two, they probably lost one of their childhood friends who was always there for them. Nick and Matt would text her but she would either send and bland response or not answer at all. They just wanted their friend back.

"Where're you going?" Nick says coldly when he sees his brother come up the stairs. "To Y/n's apartment." Nick furrows his eyebrows. "You talked to her?" He shakes his head. "Then why the hell are you going over there? Is her ignoring your calls and messages not ringing a bell? She doesn't want to talk to you. What makes you think she'd want to see you?"

"I just- I want to apologize and try to get her back. I miss her." He rubs his face with his hands. "Not to sound like a dick or anything, but she's not going to take you back. You fucking cheated on her! And dare I say it, with your ex fucking girlfriend who bullied her, Chris. You're delusional if you think you're getting her back. And thanks to you, she barely even talks to me or Matt. Do you not realize that not only did you ruin your relationship with her, you ruined mine and Matt's relationship with her. But go ahead and try to talk to her." Nicks hand comes down on the table as he gets up from his seat and walks towards his set of stairs.

"I still can't believe you would hurt her like that."

Chris sighed and slumped on a chair. A couple of minutes later, he got up and walked out of the house.

He walked up the stairs of her apartment building hallway and made his way to her door. Luckily he had remembered the code to get in the building. His first comes up and knocks. After a couple of seconds he hears her unlocking the door. "Iris you're here earl- what are you doing here?" Her face drops when she sees that her friend isn't at the door. "Y/n I want to apologize. I want you back, please." He begs.

"No, Chris. I can't put myself through that again. Do you know how much that hurt me? All because I didn't want to go to a party, Chris. A fucking party! I can't be with someone who cheats when I don't want to do something." She spoke loudly. "Y/n, baby, I promise I won't hurt you ever again. I promise." He begged her. "Please." His voice quivered.

She hated seeing him like this. But, for once, she decided to put herself first. "No, Chris. I- I can't do this anymore. I can't be with you anymore." His eyes welled up with tears. "Y/n." He spoke in desperation. "Y/n, please," She shook her head. "Go, Chris." She whispered.

"Don't make this harder than it should be."

[mininiamh]

cs55 drabble #1

pairing: carlos sainz x norris!reader

scenario: lando has told you something and your worst fears are confirmed

warning(s): angst, age gap (reader is 20, carlos is 30), the f bomb

a/n: first time writing angst 😬 LFG!

MASTERLIST

His words echoed inside your brain, your breath caught in your throat as you stared blankly back at him. Had he really meant it? That he never never loved you?

Carlos paled as the weight of his words hung heavy in the air between the two of you. He tried to reach out to you but you stepped back, the movement acting like a slap to the face to him. “Cariño, I-”

“Did you mean it?” Your voice wobbled as you spoke while trying to keep your emotions in check. A sob threatened to tear through your throat. “That you never loved me? Not even once?”

“Mi amour-”

You jabbed a finger into his chest. The anger and hurt burning inside threatened to overwhelm you as your eyes glazed over with unshed tears. “No, you don't get to sweet talk your way out of this one.” You pushed back from him and stepped further away, running your hands through your hair as disbelief began to settle over you. “What Lando said the other week; was it true?”

Carlos stiffened behind you. Did you have to bring that up now? He didn't want to be discussing your brother, he needed to try to fix your rapidly crumbling relationship which once stood like a fortress but was now slipping through his hands like grains of sand faster than he could comprehend.

When he didn't answer you turned to face him, only he's looking everywhere but in your eyes. His gaze was fixated on his feet while yours was burning a hole in the side of his face. You wanted him to look at you, to see the hurt he had caused you to feel.

“Was it true!” You screamed as your voice cracked.

Carlos didn't move for a moment longer. He closed his eyes and took a breath. He should've been honest from the start and told her as soon as he called the whole thing off. “y/n, listen, I was going to tell you.”

“Oh my god.” You let out a laugh, borderlining exasperated as his admission sunk into every fibre in your body. “I was a bet! Are you fucking kidding me?”

You moved around him and grabbed your bag, throwing in everything that belonged to you. For once you believed you could have something pure, something beautiful and untainted by outside influences but no, fate couldn't even grant you that.

“y/n, please, let's just talk about this,” Carlos pleaded as he tried to stop you from slinging your belongings in the bag. “I'm sorry, okay? It never should've happened.”

You shrugged him off as you zipped up your bag and reached for your jacket and shrugged it on. “You're right, it shouldn't have. I was so stupid for believing I could actually be loved, let alone by you of all people.” You slung your bag over your shoulder, brushing past Carlos as you stormed towards the door. “I'm staying with Lando, I've got a lot of apologising to do.”

As quickly as you had walked into his life you had walked out again, leaving Carlos to pick up the shattered remains of your life together.

[writingwisterias]

Day 18: Thigh Riding

Damnation! Divorced! Leon Kennedy x AFAB! Reader Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, Drinking, Divorced Leon, Age-Gap, Thigh riding, Fingering, Cowgirl, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breast sucking, Beer belly, Depression, Leon's method of therapy is sex Masterlist This is my personal favourite of the whole 25 days! I hope you enjoy, thank you for all the love <3

Leon sighed as he looked at the collection of empty bottles on the coffee table, so many of the green beer bottles he could recreate that annoying song his kids liked to listen to. He ran his hands over his face, the stubble scratching his palms as his eyes glanced at the kitchen counters. The papers were bright white against the dark marble, a constant reminder of his blaring divorce. He knew he fucked up before she threw the ring at him, apparently sickness and health meant nothing to her. Only when he fell into this whirlpool of depression did she then decide to leave him, despite their vows to each other. Leon sighed at the picture of his kids that was hung in front of him. He couldn't even see them currently, not until he cleared up his act whenever that was going to happen. Leon thought she understood, thought she was a safe place to deal with his issues but he was wrong. She had enough of his endless drinking and slept with her stupid Co-worker.

Of course, the woman made herself out to be the victim, that the reason she destroyed the only stable thing in his life was because of his drinking. His nightmares that constantly disturbed the house were another one of the many complaints as she sat him down and paced around the room during her announcement of this decision. It's not like he could help half of these things, he genuinely thought she understood but now he supposed like all things they eventually leave him.

The music was loud as he took another sip of the beer in his hands glancing at the door and waiting for the soft knock he knew was coming. He shouldn't have called you - dragged you into the hell hole that he resigned himself to. You were too innocent and kind for that only being a few years older than when he was thrust into this life. It was unprofessional to even have this relationship with you; you were his trainee, a rookie and yet you were constantly his more recent contact. He shouldn't have been admiring the way your body felt against him as he would pull you back during fights keeping you behind him just in case. You worked so well with him, maybe that's why during the mess in China the touches got more personal, lingering in certain places.

He had to stifle a groan when he opened the door to you wearing a shirt tennis skirt and oversized jumper. Your legs were exposed to the cold, turning red as you shivered on the spot. "I'm gonna freeze my ass off if you don't let me in" you shivered jumping on the spot to keep your warmth. He chuckled lowly guiding you into his dark apartment. You probably should be more nervous doing this, shy away from him as he guides you inside but after everything the two of you have seen - he was comfortable, a warmth and guidance back to reality. Never pressing you to return to the real world faster than you could process what you have seen like your other partners.

"it's not my fault you decided to wear that outfit" he grumbled watching your ass cheeks poke out from underneath as he lifted the fabric of your skirt slightly. You giggled swatting his hand away as you turned to face him, now enveloped in the warmth of his apartment as he shut the door. You ignored the bottles that littered everywhere, ignored the sounds of Nickelback that filled the silence. You knew why he wanted to fuck you, why he called you over when it got too much, having accidentally announced his divorce during a drunken night at the bar. "I thought you liked it when I dress like this?" You teased as you approached him. Your body is pressing against his crotch feeling it twitch against his jeans. "I like it better when your skin doesn't freeze my hands when I touch you" he grumbled, pulling away and moving back towards the armchair he often sat in. You watched as he shifted his hips in the same motion as when he thrust himself up into you. You half expected him to tap his thigh drawing you closer but he didn't look your way. Like there was some ghost in the kitchen behind you. You turned to drop your bag off and then spotted the papers. That's why he called you.

"You alright?" You asked, your voice cautious. Of course, he wasn't okay, you knew that from the state of his home. His call was a reach. A reach to maybe someone that will make him forget her. Remind him of the person he used to be when he fell in love with her, in hopes one day she would take him back. He knew she never would, he ruined that bridge...burned it to the ground. He was sure once his kids turned 18 she would never talk to him again.

Leon shook his head at your question his eyes finally meeting yours as you approached him. His breath hitched as you sat on his lap getting yourself comfy against his warmth. It was wrong, the age gap made him feel sick. He would hate it if he found out his child was in a relationship like this in the future but you never seemed to care. You seemed to thrive in his affection and attention. To point your performance even improved at work. He felt slimy as his hand caressed your thigh the spot so close to the hem of your skirt. It wasn't the first time you were here like this and he knew it wouldn't be the last. There was some string tying you both together, tethering your souls. If he was spiritual he would have assumed you were his soulmate with how well you both clicked.

"Got the papers today, she said if I clean up my act I can see the kids. It's just hard. Drinking is the only way that makes me forget. The only thing that worked at least" he sighed. You understood where he came from that's why he was so open with you about it. When he bought you to meet his wife that's where it went downhill. She was convinced you were a home wrecker but neither of you had pushed that boundary until after his divorce was announced and he showed up at your door drunk shortly after to drag you to the bar. "What do you need?" You whispered, your head resting against his shoulder. You watched your fingers run along the back of his hand admiring the size difference. "I don't know love" he sighed, hitting his head on the back of the armchair. He felt you shift on his lap, leaving your back against his chest. Your ass pressed against his crotch as your hips swayed lightly to the music that filled the room. Leon stifled the groan, his eyes darkened as he watched you.

He started to nibble at the nape of your neck, his hand pushed your back further against him giving you an arch as you tried to stay pressed against his bulge. Leon felt himself getting lost in you, your perfume filling his senses, your hair tickling his cheeks. "What do you need Leon?" You whispered again, your tone dripping to a sultry one as you looked at him in the corner of your eye. His blond hair had fallen over his eyes, his hand still clutching the bottle. He glanced back at the kitchen, realizing the irony of the two of them acting like this given the papers. "You" he finally confirmed. His hand drifted up your thigh again sliding underneath your skirt.

He could feel the warmth coming from your pussy before his fingertips touched it. You could feel his smirk against your neck as he finally came in contact with the fabric of your undies. "So wet my love, already?" He teased. You whined as his hands ran up and down the fabric, your pussy sticking to the wetness of the gusset. A beg attempted to leave your lips as his finger slipped past the fabric gathering your arousal. "Don't tease today please" you whined, bucking your hips against his hand. His chuckle vibrated against your back, his voice dropping to the octave that made your toes curl "Why not? I thought you liked being teased". Leon's fingers found the top of your underwear, toying with the elastic. A silent way command for you to lift your hips for him.

He enjoyed seeing you so eager to follow his command, your underwear slid down your legs as you kicked them aside with his help. Leaving your weeping pussy to sit on his thigh. Every time he moved the rough fabric brushed along your core, Leon could already feel the wet patch form on his leg. His hands found their place on your hips and began to move them, smirking as he felt your breaths against his ear. Small whimpers and whines leave your lips as the pleasure begins to build up. Your clit throbbed desperate for a closer feel but at the angle he had pulled you back it barely got any of the action. “Leon-” You begged. He already knew what you were asking for, his hands had stopped you from angling the hips in the correct position. “Please..” You attempted again. His chuckle was low again as he began to kiss at the spot below your ear. You could feel his erection tent in his jeans, the sheer girth of it poking at your ass cheek. “I’ve been good” You tried yet again. This time his chest vibrated with a loud laugh, one that made your cheeks redden with blush. “Have you? Sauntering over here in that outfit- for every man to get a look at these” He mumbled as one hand moved to caress your thigh, the flesh spilling from his fingertips as he squeezed it slightly. “I dressed up for you” You whined. 

Leon tutted a smirk plastered on his face as he watched you form excuses in your brain just to get what you wanted. Hoping that he would fool for one. His hand moved up underneath your skirt, his fingertips brushing your clit as you circled your hips. His other hand moved up your body underneath the jumper, teasing your erect nipples pinching and tweaking the buds eliciting such pretty noises. He could hear your breaths shorten as you drew closer to your finish. Your eyes shut tight, breathing hitching as your body prepared to let the pleasure snap and flow through you. Only his hands landed back on your hips, the grip tight enough to stop your movements. “No…No please Leon..” You whimpered, your skin already covered in a light sheen of sweat with the amount of layers you had. Leon only chuckled again, looking at your flushed cheeks, your eyebrows pinched in frustration. “Come on, strip. Let me see you then” He whispered, his shoulder jolting your body ordering you to stand up. 

He watched as you shimmed the skirt off, not missing the subtle movement of rubbing your thighs together to keep the stimulation going. Your jumper was next, exposing your bare chest. “No bra?” He spoke as his eyes gazed over your body admiring everything you had to offer. He loved how young and perky your breasts were, always capturing them in his mouth as they bounced with his thrusts. Your thighs are always around him in such perfect ways, the skin so soft in comparison to his. And then there was your pretty cunt, the shaved skin feeling so soft against his tip as he would run it along your folds, so neatly present just for him. 

You watched as he undid his belt, shimming the jeans off as he let his erection spring free. His shirt was next, thrown and discarded somewhere in the room. He had gone soft in recent years, his abs now neatly tucked away behind a soft layer of fat. It made him self-conscious at first, his ex always poking fun at his ‘dad bod’. Then he found you, your hands gripping to his softer flesh, your teeth skinning into it softly as you needed you quieten your noises. Another reason for his growing love for you. He watched as you straddled his lap, your breasts hanging in his face as you lined yourself up. The armchair creaked with your movements as you began to circle your hips allowing you both to become lubed up with your arousal. He felt you begin to bounce, the movements slow at first as you pull yourself to the tip before slamming back down. The music became blurred in the background, he could only make out a few distant words. This felt so easy with you, the pleasure building up quickly as your walls clenched around him. This moment further confuses him with his ex-wife, and his insecurities of himself creeping in. Your hand redirected his face, guiding his view back to the present as you continued to ride him. Your teeth nibbled against his neck, hand entwined with his hair. Leon captured a nipple, sucking on it as he looked up at you, his eyes scanning the blissed-out look you had. “Don’t let her ruin you further Leon…You are perfect” You whimpered. The words shocked him, causing him to briefly stop sucking. Your hand rubbed the back of his head, pushing him gently to continue. “You never changed, she did” 

His cock twitched inside you, his drunken mind becoming fuzzier with your appraisal. Your presence a reminder to him that he never changed, he was still the same person he always wanted to be. His hips drove up into you. Your hands left his head to hold his shoulders as he began his assault on your cervix. His cock driving so deep inside you as he poured everything he could to make you feel good. Your clit throbbed as the whisps on his snail trail rubbed against it thanks to the small belly he had created. You moaned loudly, head falling back exposing your neck. Leon smiled against your breast, biting down on the nipple as you finally orgasmed around him. The papers and situation became forgotten as he felt himself spill inside of you, your greedy pussy taking everything he gave you as he continued to thrust it up. You smiled down at him as he let go of your breast, bringing his lips in for a kiss. He held you close, his softening cock still inside of you. Love was an unspoken word between the two of you, the actions and bond you shared proved how you felt enough. You savoured his warmth as he held you close on the armchair, enjoying the closeness. “Thank you” He whispered, burying his face in your neck. His head was now clear of the thoughts that previously clouded them. 

“Anytime” 

Taglist: Taglist: @kasueli @luvrgreyy @michellekmsh @miss0giarra @cinnabunnysavvy @redollface @my-loved-figure-skates @luvlouiee @drawboo22 @moth-quasar @nyxxoxo @crazy-b1tch

[hedwig221b]

hey, love your fic recs, would love to see youtuber au if you have any 🥰

Thank you! Now, here's what I found:

Of Green Beans and YouTube by nerdfightingwhovian

Stiles has a YouTube show that is essentially Hannah Hart's "My Drunk Kitchen" where he cooks food drunk but actually pretty well. Derek is a serious chef on YouTube. He has cookbooks that you can buy in actual stores and stuff. He's the real deal.

Stiles' video-block is fixed when he stumbles across Derek guest-starring on a Food Network show. In a rush of inspiration he starts a new series where he cooks Derek's recipes drunk. Derek finds out about the show and instead of being angry, he's intrigued by the guy cooking and throwing things around his kitchen while drinking too much alcohol.

Who's Sourwolf?? by Star_crossed02

Based on Kris' prompt:

YouTuber Stiles doing a livestream when mysterious boyfriend comes in to kiss Stiles and everyone freaking out.

I twisted it a bit, but hopefully you'll like it.

Stop @’ing Me (It’s Giving me Anxiety) by isthatbloodonhisshirt

Derek… had no idea what to say. Or how to react. Or what to even feel.

What the hell was going on?

He immediately went to YouTube to check his video, and the first thing he noticed was that his subscriber count had indeed changed, just as he’d suspected.

Except not in the direction he’d anticipated.

When he’d gone to bed, he’d still been a few thousand subscribers away from one million. Something like seventeen or eighteen thousand away.

He was now staring at his subscriber count sitting at over one million by a fair margin.

“What the fuck?” he whispered to himself, and went to look at his newest video about AllAboutMischief. It was sitting at three-hundred thousand views in the first hour, and had more comments than he’d ever gotten on any of his videos since he began uploading.

“What the fuck?” he whispered again, a little more desperately.

I'll Be Your Robin by mikkimouse

"You're sitting in my background!" Stiles waved behind him. "Can't you just scoot to the left by, like, two feet? Or go to the library until I'm done?"

Derek scowled, and really, that angry look shouldn't turn Stiles on as much as it pisses him off. "I don't have room to scoot two feet to the left. And the last time I left the room while you were recording, I ended up getting stuck outside until midnight."

"I had to do multiple takes!"

Derek's scowl didn't lift. "You yelled at me when I came in here to go to bed."

Good for you by lilysaid

Completely by chance, I saw a "human boyfriend for werewolf roleplay" ASMR video on YouTube and thought 1. Stiles would totally do something as reckless as making an ASMR channel for werewolves 2. He would be really good at it and 3. It would definitely blow up in his face.

The Curly Fries Show with Stiles Stilinski by greenleaf

“Curly fries are only for the brave, so is love.” -- Five times Stiles interviewed celebrities for his popular YouTube show, ‘The Curly Fries Show with Stiles Stilinski’, and one time he was the one interviewed.

Or

Five times Stiles hung out with his attractive, adorable, bashful, architect building-mate Derek Hale and one time he hung out with his attractive, adorable, bashful, architect building-mate, boyfriend Derek Hale.

Ink Me by AsagiStilinski

Derek is never going to find his soulmate, because there's no way in hell there exists a man named Mieczyslaw in Beacon Hills

Then Erica hires Stiles

Daddy Do's by apocryphal

“Hi Mr. Stilinski!” Lydia said pertly. “My name’s Lydia, and this is my daddy. His name is Derek Andrew Hale and he watches all of your videos on YouTube a lot, but he still can’t braid.”

[Stiles is a celebrity YouTube hairstylist. Derek may or may not have a crush. Lydia just wants a French braid for school picture day.]

My Stupid Boyfriend Tag by ALoza

Stiles is a Youtuber, and this is Derek's first time on camera.

Thirsty and trapped by TalesoftheEnchantedForest

Stiles has a YouTube channel and decides to film a video where he reacts to thirst traps.

Then he promptly falls in love with one of the men, but it's not like they would ever meet in real life, right?

Other fic recs: pack mom!Stiles | angsty fics | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | possessive Derek | smut | hurt/comfort | magical Stiles | mafia | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles | omegaverse

[tan1shere]

The 30th

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: was listening to this today and I had to write for this song, I actually love it. I hope you enjoy the story, it's actually one of my favs :,)

Summary: You got in a crash, after something bad was happening, you had called billie leaving her worried after you hung up, and didn't respond to her texts.

Warnings: angsty angst. Car crash, a hospital, depression, arguments ??, happy ending 😇

Masterlist

Things weren't like they were. Things were harder now that she wasn't in your life as much. And God you missed her. You had just gotten out of a toxic relationship. Your best friend, Billie had gone distant because of that.

"She's manipulating you and you can't fucking see it." She screams. You two were currently in an argument. "Stop this." - "No actually that's a lie you do see it you just don't want to admit the fact she's using you." Angry tears run down your cheeks. "Be quiet, you don't know what you're saying right now." Her head shakes. "I don't know what you're saying right now. You're not you, Y/n. You haven't been ever since you got with that son of a bitch." You slap her, out of instinct. Things fall silent. Fuck, why'd you do that? She stares at you. After a moment you speak. "I just think you're jealous." She scoffs. "Of what being in an abusive relationship?" - "No! Because she gets to have me and you don't."

Silence, yet again. "You know." She begins, everything's still, quieter. "Even if that was the case. I certainly don't want this version of you."

And that was the very last time you spoke to her. I mean how can you even communicate after a fight like that. The way she left shortly after. You loved Billie she's been there for you through it all, ever since you were kids. Everything feels so empty without her. She was your everything. And now that's all gone. You knew she didn't even want to see you right now. But you desperately needed to hear her voice.

The breakup had ended horrible. You told her you just couldn't anymore, because Billie was right. She was right about everything. You told your ex that she was infact mentally abusing you. Violently fucking up your brain. And just as you thought, she took it terribly. She started to scream at you, things breaking. Your heart aching. You wanted to get away but you were scared. All you could think of was Billie but she wasn't even near you. She's gone from your life. And you don't blame her.

It was all your fault, you chanted. All your fault. "Hey! You fucking listen to me." You hear your now ex's rough voice booming in your ears. Your attention back on her. "Can you please calm down-" "No I fucking won't. Was it her?" Your eyes roll slightly having enough, you were tired. "No, Bee. It wasn't her, i don't even talk to her anymore thanks for the reminder." She stares at you. "Did you two have something going on?" You sigh out, going to leave. She grabs your arm gripping tightly. "I asked you, a question." "Even if I had, why do you care you're most likely sleeping with others." She went quiet. You weren't stupid. Staying so long with her? Yeah that was stupid. But you knew everything all along. You knew she was using you but you lied to yourself. "Fine, whatever I don't even give a rats ass anymore. You were pathetic anyways."

You were laying on your couch, trying to feel something. Shouldn't you be happy she's gone? You should. But you're not. You don't have anyone, what's the point in anything when life is as dull as it is. Silent tears still escaping your eyes. You didn't want to be here anymore. Should you pack up and leave? Move out of the country, start a new life? You knew you had to do one thing before any of that. You grab your phone and dial her number.

"Hello?" She answered after 5 rings. She really answered. You take a second finding it so foreign to hear her voice again after months.

"Me and her broke up, sorry I was such a bad friend, you were right about everything - I love you."

And just like that you hung up. You didn't want to even know her response. Quickly getting up and grabbing a duffle bag, packing it and heading out to your car. Those tears still spilling from your eyes. But you didn't even know why, they just kept coming.

You were driving on the motorway, hearing your phone ding like crazy. Eyes faintly blurry. Your sobs eventually came out of you. You hadn't properly cried in such a long time it's like you needed this. But the unthinkable happens and you almost forgot you were driving. Everything happened so fast. Everything went black.

Billies View.

It was November the 30th. I was sitting at home, but the day just felt odd. I couldn't pin point why. Until my phone started to vibrate, I look to see her name pop up. I stare in disbelief. I didn't know if I should answer. But I ended up doing so. "Hello." I say, wondering what this was about. Then I hear her voice. Her sweet soft voice. But it wasn't as sweet than I remembered. Wasn't as soft. It was dull, full of exhaustion. "Me and her broke up, sorry I was such a bad friend, you were right about everything - I love you."

Those were the last words I heard before she hangs up. My heart rate quickens sensing my feelings were right about this weird day. Something bad was about to happen.

I spam her phone, trying to get her to message me back. When there's nothing I'm immediately in my car. Knowing exactly where to go. Knowing her mind. But as I get on the motorway the cars are piled up. Fuck, fuck. Fuck. Then that makes more panic rise inside me, it's early in the morning why is there so many cars backed up. Then I see the vehicle I truly did not want to see. "No.." I breathe out. I didn't care about the traffic, it wasn't moving anyways so I get out of my car. Run down the side to try get to the ambulance. This can not be happening, please be a nightmare. "Wake up Billie. This isn't real." Oh but it was. I see her car upside down, and my heart sinks down to my ass.

I sprint to the ambulance, seeing her body, still. On the small stretcher. "Woah-" "im family." I sternly say. I was getting in there whether he liked it or not. "Family?" The male infront of me inquires. I think for a second. "Girlfriend." Did I really just say that. The other guy nods at the one infront of me. "Let her on." I go over to her instantly. I felt sick to my stomach, her skin pale. My brows knit together. "Shes unconscious, and quite injured." But that's all I heard them say. My ears ring, head spinning. Everything about this broke my heart.

Readers view.

You couldn't shake the slight throbs through your head. Your eyes opening slightly, feeling as if you were in a car. A groggy groan comes out of you. Your eyes then open enough to see someone above you. How did you even get here was the only thing running through your mind. "Y/n?" You hear faintly, your eyes open fully now. Seeing Billie. You were in an ambulance? You were still trying to remember everything. "Love?" You then hear her say. "W-what happened?" It comes out muddled but she understood. "You got into a crash." As soon as she says that it's slowly coming back to you, every feeling, flooding you entirely. "Why a-are you here tho? How'd you k-know." Your voice was incredibly weak.

"You don't remember calling me.." She breathes. "Huh?" Billie shakes her head. "Nothing- what do you remember?" She asks. You think for a moment. "Breaking up with her- a-and then falling asleep on my couch after she left." You say, looking at her. "I don't really remember the rest or how I got here-" She nods as you say that. Not before your eyes start to slowly close.

You were awoken by a beeping, adjusting to the slight light in the room. You look around noticing you were in a hospital on a bed. You turn to see Billie laying slightly on a chair in the corner, asleep. How long has it been, you wondered. You continue to look around, going to move when a pain shoots through your side. You winced in pain. Causing Billie to stir awake. She looks at you. "Hey, take it easy." Her soft voice, followed by her coming over was truly comforting. Her eyes stare at your own. "You look pretty." She then says, grabbing your hand, placing it in her own. A small smile was to be seen on your face. Your smile. The one she always made you do before you had changed. You were happier then.

"Billie.. I'm scared." You then say, she takes a moment. "Me too. They haven't told me about what's going on, probably because I'm not immediate family." She sighs. But for your sake she knows you need reassuring. "You'll be ok though, you're here right now right?" You nod gently. "My side really hurts-" "the meds must be wearing off. They said if you woke up to press this button and it'll inject some into you." Everything felt normal again between the both of you... key word, felt.

Months go by and you slowly get back into eachothers lives, but something was still missing. It was her. And not in the way previously. You've always loved Billie. But maybe it was a romantic love. You wanted to be hers. Everything was dull still. You had ended up squishing your ribs slightly in the crash, so that was in the process of healing. Along with your heart. It was a Sunday, you were just watching TV when Billie was going to come round. She opens the door eventually, waving at you. You wave back. She had sensed you still weren't yourself, she saw it. However It wasn't always, you tried your hardest to put on a smile for her majority of the time.

Today however was a hard day, your mind would not shut off and you just couldn't bare trying to fake it. She then comes over to you. Needing to talk about everything. You had requested that there'd be no talk of any of it till you were ready but she needed to get some things off her chest.

"Sometimes you look the same.. just like you did before the accident." You look at her, emotionless. "Shes out of your life now-" "I know. But I still feel empty inside Billie." There was a soft silence. "I know you don't remember calling me. Right before the accident. You said you loved me." Was she piecing this feeling you were feeling together. It was coming back to you. You had called her and said that. "I know it wasn't a friendship kind of 'I love you'." You didn't know how to respond to her, keeping your gaze on her. "I need to know if it's true. Or if I'm going insane, because if it is true. Tell me." You still say nothing, feeling tears pool in your eyes, knowing how miserable you've been because you don't have her the way you truly wanted.

She needed to confess something.

"What if it happened to you on a different day. What if you hadn't called me beforehand. What if it was on a bridge where there wasn't a rail in the way, What if you fell into deep water and no one could find you. If you changed anything would you not of survived." Now she's tearing up, frantically saying all these things that have been deep inside of her for far too long. "You're alive, you're alive. You're. Alive." You leap forward bringing her into a hug not even caring about your rib. You hug her so tightly. She gently hugs you back holding you close, whispering into your hair. "Your alive." - "I'm inlove with you Billie." You speak into her shoulder, crying yourself. Crying hard.

She pulls you back grabbing your face gently. "I'm inlove with you too, and seeing her break you like she did. Hurt me. Knowing I could've done better, in a good way. I would've protected you. Cared for you. Love you. The way you always deserved." You smile at her. Your true smile and this just makes her say the next 2 words. "Be mine." Your smile widens. "How could I ever say no." You both smile, leaning in and kissing one another tenderly.

Let's just say she was forever thankful for that call that day.

[gguk-n]

Luxury in Love's blind spot (Arthur Leclerc x fwb!reader)

[Set up- Reader is the grand-daughter of one of the richest man in the world. Maybe Arthur and the reader are a bit of a red flags in this.]

Summary- It’s never a good idea to get into a friends with benefit situation with an attractive man. You’ll only have your heart broken

Ending

[Reader's POV]

The first time me and Arthur met was on my birthday. I was out with a couple of friends in Monaco when I met Arthur in a club; I was a little tipsy and he was cute and too attractive to not take home for the night. I was drunk and horny and Arthur was willing to entertain me.

That night Arthur and I, ended up in my bed with some of the best sex I've ever had. This turned into a proper agreement; I was literally flying back to Monaco just to fuck Arthur with some of the most expensive gifts I could get my hands on. It was how I showed my love and appreciation, I told myself. I had become exclusive to Arthur. This felt like those stupid books where the reader falls in love with her friend with benefit when they explicitly said they shouldn't. But what was I supposed to do. The only person in my life that seemed to genuinely care about me was him. He would text me asking if I had food, or how the classes were. Sometimes, I wished I was doing my Masters in Monaco and not the UK but the flight was quite short. So, I would constantly be back in Monaco whenever he was around.

————————————————————————

Arthur was in the UK due to the race. I was very happy that we would get to hang out. I had tried to invite him over to family gatherings, as a friend obviously since I realised that I had started liking him. But he had always been busy due to the race or for some other reason. I felt a little disappointed but what could I do. He had apparently never mentioned me to his family; I only found that out when I went to meet him at the hotel when he was in the UK.

I handed the keys to my Porsche, to the valet and walked towards his Hotel room with a large bouquet of flowers, a box of his favourite chocolates from Italy, a new Rolex and a separate bag with some more chocolates for his brothers. I pressed the button to his floor on the elevator which took me there. I walked towards his room; knocking the door. A shocked Arthur opened the door. "Hi!!" I greeted, I wanted to hug him but my hands were full. "Why did you come here? I told I'd meet you at your place." Arthur muttered. "I wanted to surprise you." I exclaimed. "How did you get my room number?" he asked. "You told me silly, a couple days back, remember. Now, my hands hurt. Can I put this down?" I asked. Arthur reluctantly let me in. I saw both his brothers sat on the bed and chair. I placed the stuff on the table and greeted them. They looked at me confused. Arthur stepped in and told them I was a friend and that we would be leaving now. I handed them the bag of chocolates I got for them. "This is for you, as an apology. I'm gonna be stealing Arthur away for a couple days now." I giggled. "And these are for you, darling." I continued, placing the bouquet in Arthur's hands. He pulled me away, "Why'd you get all this?" he questioned. "I always get you stuff when I visit." I mumbled. "Well, you didn't have to. Let's leave." he dragged me out without even greeting his brothers good bye.

--------------------------------------------------——

The day of my graduation is when shit hit the fan. My family couldn't make it because my younger sibling was graduating and a Master's wasn't even a big deal they said. I asked Arthur if he could come but he was busy too. So, I spent my graduation alone. Until I got a call from Arthur the next day, so instead of flying back home, I flew to Monaco.

We hung out at Arthur's place getting drunk. "You don't usually get this drunk." Arthur commented. "I just wanna forget everything" I slurred. I reached out and pressed a kiss against his lips. "Let's get you some water." Arthur said getting up from the sofa. "I only need you" I said while pulling him back down. Arthur laughed, "sure, but only when you're sober." I straddled his lap while cupping his cheeks, "Please, don't leave, like everyone does." I begged with tears in my eyes. "I'm not going anywhere." Arthur whispered. "Promise?!" "Promise" he replied. "Because I love you so much" I mumbled. "You don't know what you're saying" Arthur sighed. "Drunk words are sober thought, babe." I replied. "Let's talk about this when you're sober." he suggested. "I don't think I'll have the courage to tell you this when I'm sober. I love you Arthur Leclerc, I have for a while. Sorry for breaking the agreement. I just couldn't help falling for you when you were so nice to me. But I know you don't feel that way. I've seen the way you are ashamed to be seen with me. That's the reason you've never invited me to your races or introduced me to your family or met mine, matter of fact." I rambled. "I-I-I" Arthur stammered. "It's ok sweet heart. I would be ashamed to be seen with me too." I let out a dry laugh. The lump in my throat was bigger and my eyes hurt. "I wish you loved me." I sighed "If you ever truly cared for me for even a moment then you'll reject me. So that I can finally move on from you." I suggested. "I'm sorry, I can't love you the way you want me too." Arthur said. Those words pierced my heart like a knife, I wiped away the tears that had started falling from my eyes.

This whole conversation had sobered me, I got up and started grabbing my stuff. "Where are you going?" Arthur asked. "Home, Arthur." I replied. "It's so late, stay the night." he requested. "It's ok, my assistant will come pick me up. Don't worry about me" I said while stumbling out of the door on call with my assistant.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Another thing I just adore about Ed and Stede's dynamic is Ed certainly does not NEED anyone to protect him. He's a very competent person who is extremely successful and has a reputation built on being brilliant and a tactical genius. It would be so, so easy for Stede's desire to help and protect Ed to come across as condescending at best and racist at worst.

But it doesn't, because Stede isn't perfomative about it. He doesn't walk around acting like Ed is helpless or stupid. He just responds, earnestly and genuinely, when he sees Ed is in distress.

Take the party in s1e5 for example. Ed is visibly very upset, and even though Stede stops him from going back in there, we know that Ed could probably easily find a way to terrify the people who were so cruel to him. He's only got one single-shot gun, sure, but we know Ed's smart enough he could figure this out. But Stede tells Ed that he'll deal with it, and he embarasses them, gets them to light their ship on fire, and Ed looks at him like he just hung the fucking stars in the sky.

Has anyone ever stood up for Ed like this before? Ever? Is it any wonder we first see Ed thinking about kissing Stede right after this?

And then Ned Low is the other obvious example. Other people have rightly pointed out that the moment Ned died was when he was playing with Ed's hair, mocking him, and we see Stede's furious face. Ned just signed his own death certificate, he just didn't know it yet, because Stede was never going to let him leave his ship alive after that. They go out of their way this episode to show us how Ned is insulting, mocking, and racist towards Ed to make sure we know exactly why Stede was never going to let him live.

And, yes, Ed did tell Stede that he shouldn't kill Ned, trying to protect Stede. But Ed isn't surprised when Stede does it - at worst, he feels bad that Stede thought the "poison" of killing someone was worth it because of Ed. I think Ed knew, at least on some level, especially after what happened to those rich racist dickheads - he can count on Stede making people who are awful to him pay for it.

I love that Stede will take people insulting him without blinking an eye all day, but the second they're mean to Ed it's fucking on sight. No one insults his princess and gets away with it. And I'm sure Ed feels bad that Stede does these things for him, but I hope he's starting to realize that he deserves to be cared for the way Stede looks out for him. These two want to protect each other so bad.

In conclusion, I guess: if you're staying at their inn and you say a single mean thing to Ed, you better start fuckin' running

[leviscolwill]

something to give each other

pairing: situationship!jude x reader

summary: jude and you are nothing complicated, until one night when you need him more than anything [wc:~800]

contents: angst & fluff at the same time bc why not + maybe a tiny bit suggestive ? idek if this classify as suggestive tbh

note: ikkk it's very short and that's a shit summary just read pls 😓 if u liked it, lmk by reblogging !!

now playing something to give each other by troye sivan...

you don't know what brought you two together. maybe it was the magnetic energy that he had to him, or maybe it was the way your personalities completed each other perfectly. either way, you found yourself wishing your paths never crossed a bit too often.

you and jude weren't anything serious, it was ‘less complicated’ this way according to him. you hung out with your shared friends and when everyone else was heading home, you would share a uber to his house or yours. it was simple really, you both got what you wanted by the end of the night.

and tonight, you needed him to take your mind off this awful day. you couldn't wait for him to make you forget about those stupid exams and these stupid arguments with your friends.

you didn't take the time to greet him like you usually did before kissing jude's lips, maybe bolder than he expected. his fingers gripped your jaw and forced you to slow down and separate from him.

“what's with you tonight?”, you could only roll your eyes at his comment, small talk being the last thing on your mind tonight. thankfully, your fingers raking the skin under his shirt was enough to shut him up. “i just need you, please jude.”

his eyes closed, it was hard to resist your pleas but your voice had a tone that was different than usual and he didn't want you to do something you might regret later, “no, you need to tell me what's going on, we're not doing anything if you don't.”

“fuck off, you never ask me about anything and suddenly you're interested in what's going on?” you couldn't understand the sudden switch in his behavior, it had always been just sex, why complicate it now? “i just need you to kiss me, take off my clothes, and make me feel good, is this too much to ask for?” you could feel your eyes well up in tears the more you spoke, already frustrated by your day, and not wanting to argue with him.

“it's fine if you don't want to have sex, i'll just text someone else.”, of course you didn't mean a word that came out of your mouth, if anything you would leave and cry yourself to sleep in your bed. jude's thumbs wiped tears that you didn't notice were falling before cupping your face in his hands. his eyes looked into yours in a way you weren't used to, your eyes fell on the floor from the intensity of his gaze, but two of his fingers were already tilting your face up, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

the silence between the two of you was becoming embarrassing, “i'm sorry about… all of this, i'll just go. sorry.” you couldn't even turn your back to him before his hand found your wrist, “you're not going anywhere. stay the night, please.”

you couldn't hide the frown on your face, confused by his words, “but you said you wouldn't…” the boy in front of you dramatically pretended to get offended, “this information might surprise you, but my life doesn't revolve around sex.” the giggles that escaped your mouth brought back a smile on both your lips.

jude's hand brought you to his room, although you knew the way all too well already, the warmth of his hand in yours brought you a sense of comfort that you didn't know you longed for. he handed you a shirt that was probably twice your size but would be perfect to sleep in. you embarrassingly looked around you before asking him to turn around, he complied but laughed his back now facing you.

“i've seen you naked so many times already, you shouldn't care about this love” heat was creeping up your face thinking about what he was hinting at, “s’ just different that's all…” your voice was barely audible, and you couldn't even tell if jude heard your words. you got under his sheets and told him he could turn around, his bed now significantly warmer with him next to you.

even with his eyes shut, jude could tell you were tense laying next to him ramrod straight. you felt his arm around you pull you closer, your face now nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

you felt him shift a bit, and kiss the crown of your hair. the action made you heart skip a beat or two and relax more. you hoped you did a good job at pretending to be asleep because you didn't want to deal with the consequences of his ambiguous gestures in the morning. his fingers slowly stroking your hair were lulling you to sleep for real this time.

jude stopped once he heard your light snores and pressed on one more kiss on top of your head. he didn't let himself fall into the arms of morpheus though, already thinking about how he would fix whatever he started tonight.

[duskdog]

I've never been a huge fan of the retcon of Stephanie Brown's death.

Don't get me wrong -- she never should have been killed the way she was, and I'm overjoyed that she's alive. But... the retcon itself is just so, so boring and stupid and uninspired. "Whoops, she faked her death! LOL!"

On the bright side: It not only brought Steph back, but it gave her the chance to earn respect and redemption in a way that would have been impossible had she stayed dead (obviously). It gave her the chance to become something more than "that dumb kid who started a gang war".

Also on the bright side: It salvaged Leslie Thompkins, whose character had been absolutely butchered -- even worse than Steph -- by War Games. Her motivation for letting a child fucking die on her table was absolute bullshit that made no sense for Leslie whatsoever, and spoke of a profound lack of understanding of her as a character and her relationship with Bruce in particular. The retcon washes her hands of Steph's blood at least, even if "faking a teenager's death" isn't the greatest thing for a resume.

On the not-so-bright side: It further demonized Steph by instead making her "that dumb kid who not only started a gang war, but also selfishly put her friends and mother through absolute hell by making them think she was dead".

Also on the not-so-bright side: It erased her very real trauma in the eyes of both fandom and the characters themselves. Oh, she didn't die and stay dead? Guess that means she didn't actually suffer. Guess that means being tortured to the point of death didn't mean anything. Guess that means power drills and broken glass and being hung in a stress position for hours/days doesn't hurt or leave scars or anything. Guess that means being suddenly stolen away from her entire life, with no one that she loves or even knows (we have no reason to believe she was close to Leslie when War Games happened, contrary to popular belief), wasn't incredibly difficult. Guess that means that recovering from massive physical and psychological trauma in a foreign country you've never been to and don't speak the language of, fully dependent on somebody she barely knows, and without the love and emotional support of her mother was probably find, right? Guess that means she didn't learn anything from her mistakes, huh? Because you have to actually die and be dead and stay dead for a while in order to be sympathetic, I guess.

Also on the not-so-bright side: It absolved Bruce (and the writers) of the callousness of his treatment of Steph, and of not memorializing her in the Batcave or giving any other indication that he ever considered her a real Robin to anyone other than Steph herself, whom he believed was dying and wouldn't be around to tell it anyways. (You may consider this a "bright side" thing. I don't, because a large part of my issue with Batman as a character is that he's always Right even when he's Wrong, and the narrative often ends up supporting his blatant assholery. I dislike his bad behavior being vindicated by virtue of secret knowledge or deus ex machina.)

More importantly, however, I've always questioned exactly how much agency Steph had in the whole "faking her death" thing.

Originally, Bruce found that Steph had been "stable" and shouldn't have died, unless Leslie allowed her to. Being "stable" at one point in time absolutely doesn't mean you're not in any danger whatsoever. It's good, but it's no guarantee -- especially if she was in bad enough shape that simple lack of intervention on Leslie's behalf would have been enough to kill her (and within a relatively short amount of time, too).

So we know she was badly injured. Enough so that Batman thought she was dying, and wasn't surprised by that fact initially. (He's not exactly someone who doesn't have experience with estimating someone's condition in the field, too, remember.) Steph herself even seemed to believe that she was dying.

Additionally, Steph can't exactly demand that Leslie -- whom she barely knows, remember -- fold up her practice and run away to Africa to get her away from Gotham. Or plan everything that would be necessary to fake her death, right down to a substitute corpse and autopsy. Those were things that took some real intent and planning on Leslie's part, as well as some Big Ass Decisions for the good doctor.

So it seems almost certain that the idea itself was Leslie's. She made these decisions very quickly, but she had to have been the one to make them. Was Steph privy to this? Well, was she even conscious? And if she was conscious, was she heavily drugged, for pain if nothing else? Seems she would have been. Even if not drugged, was she mentally and emotionally capable of making such a decision, considering she had just suffered actual literal torture?

It seems very unlikely to me that Steph had any, or much, input into this decision whatsoever.

And once they were in Africa, how long and difficult was her recovery? Was she given access to ways to contact anyone? Or change her mind? I'm not suggesting that Leslie was holding her hostage; I'm questioning whether Steph was even physically capable of advocating for herself for a while, let alone mentally. Her only connection to her former life is the doctor who whisked her away here -- and that connection is also the person who's in charge of her care. If you're exhausted, in lots of pain, probably heavily medicated, in emotional distress, and have limited mobility, you're probably a lot more likely to take your doc's suggestion that you "just relax and don't worry about that right now".

Additionally, what kind of mental/emotional state was Steph even in? She knew she fucked up. She knew people had suffered and died because of what she did. You can call Steph a lot of things, but "uncaring" and "unempathetic" are not among them. It's easy to say she was selfishly hiding from the consequences of her actions, and maybe that's true to an extent, but consider what we know about Steph's self-esteem up to this point. I don't think it's a stretch to say that she probably thought that Gotham was better off without her. She probably thought that nobody wanted to see her. She may have even though they were glad she was "dead". (Even her mother, whom she loves dearly. I believe her relationship with her mom is actually quite complicated, thanks to Crystal's neglect during her substance abuse days, their differing feelings on Arthur surrounding his death, and Steph's occasional parentification. Steph believed she had to protect her mother, but probably didn't feel like she was very good at it, so is it really surprising that an emotionally-compromised, injured Stephanie Brown might think that her mother might actually be better off with her "dead"?)

And what about when she reached the point where she was both physically and mentally capable of facing what she had done, and the fact that she was letting her loved ones believe she was dead, and that it might be hurtful of her to do that?

Well, at that point, the damage was already done, wasn't it? Telling them after 3 months, 6 months, 9 months, or however long the bulk of her recovery took wouldn't matter that much, would it? The lie had already been told. They had already buried her. They had already grieved. Maybe, by that point, it even felt like it would be more cruel to suddenly tell the truth. And by that point, she had begun to heal, begun to gain perspective, begun to re-evaluate somethings about herself. She probably really did need the time away to get her shit together. She probably did, for a little while, think it might be best if she never set foot in Gotham again.

I'm not saying that makes it all okay. Her mother, in particular, deserved better than all that. Cass was devastated and clearly struggled with Steph's death, perhaps even moreso than Tim. It was a shitty thing to put people through.

But I'm suggesting that 1. it's not fair to place so much of the blame on Stephanie herself, because it's not logical to suggest that she's the one who planned any of this, and 2. it's at least somewhat understandable.

[whorergal]

SHE'S MINE

summary: you get attacked by ghostface but another ghostface comes in and saves you…

warnings: scream vi spoilers, language (cussing), blood, gore… typical horror stuff lol

pairings: ethan landry x fem!reader

authors note: this is my first ever imagine (and post) on here so i hope u like it >.< i want to write more so i’ll try to be active especially for ethan. also, this is pretty short so i wouldn't mind writing a part two :3

———————————————————————————

You weren't in much of a party mood unlike the rest of your friends. Really, you haven't been in the exact mood in doing much anymore. Ever since Woodsboro, you had lost a part of yourself in the tragedy that haunted you. It was unusual especially since it was nearing Halloween, your favorite holiday, that you didn't want to participate in dressing up and getting drunk as a reward. You decided to stay inside your apartment that you shared with Anika, catching up on homework that you had missed.

Tara had made it her job to text you every so often, casually updating you on the party. After a couple more short texts, they started to become more and more hard to understand which made you laugh. At least someone was having fun.

When you sat aside your phone, trying to keep all your attention on finishing your notes, your phone began to ring. You furrowed your brows when you took a glance and saw it was coming from an unknown caller. Immediately you became paranoid. You let it ring until it ended, shaking it off as a coincidence.

Ghostface was gone. There was no possible way it could've followed you and your friends to New York City. Right?

Your phone began to ring again.

Maybe it was Tara, you thought. You knew she was drunk so maybe something happened and she was borrowing someone's phone. But why wouldn't she just use Mindy's or Anika's? You tried not to think about rational answers because you didn't want to feel stupid for answering the call when you knew you shouldn't have.

"Hello?" You answered.

"Hello, Y/N," the familiar voice said back. "You miss me?"

You should've known. Well, you did know; you were just stupid enough to think otherwise. "Fuck, no," then you hung up.

Instantly, you opened your contacts and went straight for Tara's number. But, then you remembered she was absolutely hammered which meant she probably wouldn't be much help in your situation.

You scrolled mindlessly until you landed on Ethan's contact, clicking on it instantly, seeing as he was someone you confided in the most. Mindy had already told everyone her plan tonight was to get shit-faced so you weren't confident in her being able to aid you in this; neither could you count on Anika as she would be with her.

It rang for a couple short seconds which felt like eternity for you, being panicked and all. You were relying on him answering because you weren't sure how long you had until something happened.

Luckily, he answered in confusion. "Y/N, what's wrong?"

"E, I need you to come to my place now," you let out in a complete rush, the words almost slurred together.

"What?" he questioned. "Y/N/N, I can barely hear you. Are you okay?"

"Ethan, he called me. Ghostface called me."

The line went silent, only the sound of loud music and people hollering. That was until your phone began to vibrate against your cheek, startling you. You brought it down to your line of vision and saw it was the unknown caller. Or, should you say, whatever fucked up person that was behind the mask.

"Y/N, can you hear me?!" His voice came out in distress, worried something happened to you. "Hey, Chad and I heading over right now! Y/N?!"

"They're calling again," you stated simply.

"Don't answer it!" He was practically yelling into his phone at this point because he knew exactly what you were going to do. It was what almost got you killed in Woodsboro.

You didn't listen to him, deciding to hang up on him and use your remaining courage to answer the call. If you survived once, you sure as hell can survive again.

"What the fuck do you want?" You spat in anger.

"You hang up on me again and I'll paint your bedroom walls in your blood," they rushed out. "It would be a shame for your friends to find your mutilated lifeless body, wouldn't it?"

"Fuck you." You held back your wavering because although you weren't afraid, their descriptive threat made you nauseous.

"How about we play a game?"

"How about you fuck off."

"It's an easy game, Y/N," they told you. "You answer correctly and I may consider sparing your life."

You scoffed, getting up from your bed. "Fine. I'll play your stupid game."

"Great." There was a short pause. "Where in your apartment do you think I'm at?"

The confidence crumbled as now you started to feel the rising fear bubbling in your chest. "What?"

"You heard me," they said. "Where. Am. I?"

"Fuck," you mumbled to yourself. "Why don't you just come and get me, asshole? Are you too afraid?"

"The opposite." Their voice came out hushed.

Then, your bedroom door flung open, hitting harshly against your wall that it left an indent. Ghostface came running toward you, knife rose in the air, intending to plant it into your skin but you managed to dodge their attack, shoving them onto your bed as you made your escape.

You didn't get too far as they grabbed ahold of your ankle, making you face-plant into your wooden flooring. If the pain of hitting your head against the hard surface wasn't enough, the sheer agony rippling through your leg at the feeling of their knife digging into your calf was enough to make you scream. When they pulled it out, you grew enough strength to kick them in the face as you struggled to get up, finding all your energy diminishing.

Attempting to make a run for it didn't turn out well as you heard their footsteps catch up to you, causing you to throw yourself out of the way for their knife to go straight through the door.

Your apartment was pretty small. I mean, it only housed you and Anika so there wasn't much room needed which ultimately meant there wasn't anywhere else to go. Your kitchen was connected to your living room which was also connected to your hallway. It was all one open space. So, it was no surprise that they caught up to you again.

They managed to tackle you to the floor, holding you in place by stabbing you right where you had been previously, breaking through the stitches. You screamed so loud, you were concerned at the fact that your neighbors hadn't become suspicious at the sound. Where the hell was Ethan?

Them pulling out the knife hurt much worse, causing you to whine in return. But then they stabbed you in your abdomen once more, causing you to let out a choked sob. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to release the tension as you were physically helpless at this point. You reached down, feeling the blood coat your hand as you forced them to pull the knife out of you. Using whatever energy you had left, you kicked them off of you.

You used your entire arm to hold your wounds in place as you turned to crawl away. You weren't surprised to feel them grabbing your ankle, on the leg that had been injured which made it feel ten times worse, and drag you back to them. They flipped you on your back and stared down at you for a second until they began to raise their knife in the air.

Preparing yourself for the worse, you laid there with not much else to do, waiting to be punctured for what you assumed to be the last time ever. That was until they were thrown off of you by someone smacking them in the head with the wooden cutting board Anika used to cook you two dinner. Your eyes felt heavy but you couldn't help but widen them when you saw a second Ghostface, staring down their accomplice instead of you. The sound of the wooden board clattering against the ground caused you to flinch.

The one who had previously been attacking you was shorter than this new figure. You began to crawl away again, seeing as this short distraction gave you that advantage. You were bleeding out quickly, but you didn't want give up just yet.

You made it toward your counter, glancing at them as it seemed they were having a silent conversation. That was until the shorter one attempted to attack the taller one, using their knife but they easily intercepted the stabbing by grabbing ahold of their wrist. The taller one tossed the other one carelessly against your bookshelf, causing all your shared books with Anika to fall at their collapse.

It was funny to think you were now more worried about your books well being than your own.

You cowered behind your counter, carefully watching them in total confusion. The fact one of them was defending you, which seemed to go against their whole purpose, had rendered you frozen.

There was one last silent mutual conversation until the one with the knife shook their head in what you assumed could've been anger before fleeing the scene. You followed their figure until it was gone with wide eyes.

Your breath hitched when the Ghostface that practically saved your life turned to look at you. They didn't come near you, or really move at all as they stared into your soul. There was noise coming from somewhere in the building which caught their attention, making them turn toward your door and run out as well.

You watched in surprise. What the hell just happened?

[anxresi]

She's already been punished enough...

...By being part of one the worst shows of all time, dufus.

A few points here, in the order of the OP presented their dubious 'case' (though I suspect this isn't actually how they feel and this is a somewhat disingenuous attempt was to provoke a reaction from a lot of others when they sent this to Reddit, in which case... JOB DONE).

1. Bullying, as bad as it can be, is not a jailable offence. especially the relative mild incidences we've seen in the show (up till S4 that is, which we'll get to later) Next.

2. As every right-minded person knows, this is 'New Chloe' e.g Chloe specifically created by Mr Astruc for the S3 finale onwards which bears no relation to 'Old Chloe'. 'Old Chloe' actually had personality, layers, humanity, humour, was a great super-anti-hero, the stirrings of redemption in her.... 'New Chloe' is just an out-and-out psychopath with no depth to her whatsoever apart from to be as ineptly evil as possible and increasingly embarrass herself with every tortuous appearance so Thomas can get his sick jollies, so this doesn't count. Sorry.

3. See: 2. Also, Zoe shouldn't exist... so, there's that. If you want to know why, please see my other posts... as I am saving up all my ire for something far more important as you'll find out below...

4. Now this is the one that REALLY boils my piss. How can I put this politely... Fuck off, you fucking cunt. Chloe's fucking father ENABLED her fucking behavior for fucking years by fucking throwing his money at the fucking problem instead of paying for the fucking psychological help she clearly fucking well needed and fucking IGNORED everything when her fucking mother regularly left Chloe alone, told her she was fucking worthless, didn't bother celebrating her fucking birthdays, forgot her fucking name time and time again...

I could go on. And you're telling me Andre is the FUCKING victim instead of Chloe, this FUCKING corrupt mayor. this FUCKING waste of space, this FUCKING pathetic excuse of a man who as her FUCKING FATHER could've put his FUCKING foot down at any FUCKING time and simply said "No?" What kind of a fucking 'mature' adult is he, anyway?! I suppose the OP also thinks fucking Gabriel deserved his fucking statue as well, in fact they should've hung fucking garlands of flowers from it whilst someone played fucking panpipes and everybody else fucking danced around. Fuck you.

Also worth noting here that Chloe fucking ADORED her father until the exceedingly unwelcome S4 'reboot' where she suddenly saw him as a fucking walking piggy bank (I won't even mention how they purposefully ruined her relations with Adrien, Sabrina, even her own butler... Chloe can't have any happiness in her life. It simply ISN'T ALLOWED).

Then they have the cheek to let his daughter be 'disowned' by him in the S5 finale and banished to London as if he fucking did nothing wrong in facilitating her attitude whilst failing to defend her against her despicable mother's abuse. (Yes, I said ABUSE I know the creator doesn't view it as such, but he's a fucking moron so what can you do?) Bullshit. Complete and utter undiluted diarrhea dripping from a bull's anal sac... that's what this is. I hope I painted an accurate picture for all of you. Sorry if you were eating.

So, it was supposably a happy ending that Andre got to fucking adopt another man's child without any reprecussions for his past actions, as he embarked on his new career as a fucking film director. What? You think that wasn't ENOUGH punishment for Chloe, OP? You think she should go to fucking jail as well, for DARING to be a child victim of incessant abuse, both in-canon and in-writing? I never thought I'd meet a person who's more radicalised in their blind hatred of Chloe than fucking Mr Astruc, but here we are. I tell you, some people on this exploding planet of ours scare me. Legit.

5. See 2 again. This huge disparity in writing between the two Chloes is getting stupid now, and anyone who can't see the contrast between now and then... I really can't help you. Either take off your Chloe-hating goggles to smell the coffee, or go read someone that agrees with you 100% and won't pop your tiny safe-space bubble with indisputable facts. Goodbye.

6. I think Chloe is more 14... but it doesn't really matter. Still a child, still should be treated as one. Which makes Astruc's obsessive loathing of her even more disturbing... and even more so this dude's.

That's it. This was probably an entirely unnecessary pot-pourri of hot topics I've regurgitated before, but as soon as I saw this article (particularly Pic 4) I just had to jump on my soapbox once more to regale the world about the kind of arrant nonsense I see about Chloe sometimes online, particularly regarding the subject of parental abuse and whether her treatment by the show's narrative was justified (SPOILER: It wasn't, and if you disagree I need you to fuck off RIGHT NOW).

Because if people like me don't defend her and the terrible writing she's been subjected to for the last few seasons (at least she's in good company there though), who will?

Not the person who made her, that's for sure. She may be a fictional character but... I get the feel her situation is similar to a lot of other neglected and mistreated kids out there who lash out at others for obvious reasons. And by handling her arc (if you can even call it that) in this inexcusable way... I don't just think the show has just done her a disservice. I think they've outright destroyed her and the hopes of many others watching.

What a great message to send to every youngster who could relate. I hope the makers are proud of themselves. Fucking idiots.

[carolmunson]

agitated from the shadows, can i take it all back? (older!modern!eddie)

part seven of however many. orange colored sky set list summary: things simmer in the summer, and as it comes closer to a close, whatever is lying beneath comes to the surface. and it's more than eddie bargained for.

tw: 18+ minors dni. this series is about an age gap relationship (reader is in late 20s/early 30s, eddie is in late 30s early 40s. they're around 12 years apart), arguing/yelling, references to drug use, references to smut, references to domestic violence. songspiration: episode | gallant (this is one of my favorite songs of all time so i recommend listening)

Eddie was always a little sad when Steve left after visiting, but his heart was beating fast in his chest when he hugged him goodbye. Getting Harrington's seal of approval was all he needed to hear. "Keep her around Munson. She's special, you're not gonna top her." "Oh Steve, my guy..." "I'm topping her all the time."

He couln't help the swell in his chest when you both first met, like you'd known each other for years without trying. He even got a little jealous when the night's you'd stayed over, Steve would spend his time deep in conversation with you. You'd trudge upstairs long after Ed had gone to sleep, learning more about him through Steve than he'd told you himself. You guess Steve would know better than anyone else.

You tried to make yourself scarce though, leaving them to their own devices. You knew they had traditions and plans, they spent a couple days out in the Hamptons to say high to another friend. And that was fine, you had other things to catch up on. Work, bills, the world around you that wasn't in a haze of Eddie Munson. You had to cancel a night to see him play at Rockwood Music Hall with Steve when you were too hung over from a birthday party. You hadn't seen that group of friends since college -- it would be stupid to sit at home just because the guy you were seeing was busy. He wasn't even your boyfriend. After a fortnight of semi seeing each other for finally had a night alone. He treated you to drinks at a bar between your respective places. The night was humid, air thick while you both sat otuside sipping your final glasses of wine and stealing bites off each other's plates. You decide to walk back to his place, following the walkway next to the bypass through central Brooklyn. You split a cigarette, talking about the rest of his trip -- you talk about work and the dramatic break up of two of your friends. He lives for the gossip.

He lights another cigarette while you both turn down the top of the street from the parkway. Right at the rotary where you both got caught in the rain on your first date. The street is pretty bare outside of a few cars coming down and around, families normally don't like to hang out too late. All the restauarants were closed for the night. The orangey streetlights glow over the sidewalk, competing with the lighting from the grocery store's red and blue signage, the neons from darkened bakeries and bars. You peer into the windows of apartments that are too high above you for anything discernable outside of a plant or nice light fixture.

"Oh," he starts, letting the smoke out from his first drag, "How was your friend's party? All I heard about was your hang over."

You smile to yourself, "It was fun, got a little too fucked up -- which you heard all about -- but I had a good time. Probably shouldn't have gotten so drunk and then tried coke for funsies -- that was a choice."

"Hm?" he asks, his brows raise while his head turns towards you fast, "What was that?"

"Oh, I didn't tell you? Yeah, I tried coke," your voice is casual when you tell him, like it's not a big deal. You shrug and your nose scrunches, "Probably don't see myself doing it again though."

"Probably don't?" he asks, nodding slowly while you both make your way further down the street to his apartment. He pulls another drag, letting the smoke out before tucking his lips into his teeth.

"Yeah I just -- I dunno," you shrug, "Didn't really love it. It was whatever."

"Y'shouldn't be doin' that shit, peach," he mumbles, "'Specially if I'm not around."

Your brows quirk when he flicks the finished cigarette into the street, "Excuse me?"

"Just..." he sighs, eyes rolling while he considers whether it's worth the fight, "Forget it. S'fine." You're both silent while you make it up the stairs to his apartment, he seems unenthusiastic about you being here this time around. Deflated. You both kick off your shoes at the doorway before heading inside, putting your bag on the entry way table behind the bowl where he puts his keys and wallet. He pulls off his shirt while making his way to the metal spiral staircase, not even tossing you a glance while he heads upstairs. "You comin' back down?" you ask, wondering if you should follow. "Mhm," he nods, "Just changin', gonna shower."

"Can I..." but you trail off, not wanting to invite yourself -- uncomfortable in the silence. In the way he doesn't look at you, in the way he feels far away. The sound of the bathroom door closing puts a weight in your belly, your heart thrums, heat rises on the back of your neck. You settle in on the couch, the steady hum from the central air makes your eyelids heavy -- it was already a late night. You scroll on your phone, listening while the water hits the shower floor up stairs, wishing he'd invited you up. You feel sticky from the heat outside, from the bar air, from the beer someone spilled on your legs. Maybe you should just go. He appears at the top of the stairs when you open the Uber app, clearing his throat to get your attention. He's there in his sweats again, shirtless, tattoos shining under a layer of lotion rubbed into his skin. He tied his hair up, curly wet bun sloppily piled on top of his head, bangs fuzzily drying over his forehead.

"You can hop in if you want," he says, making his way down, "I left a towel by the sink for you. I um, I got that facewash you like -- that one you told me about. It's in the shower already, next to your loofah."

"Oh," your heart flutters a little, voice still meek and quiet. He still doesn't look at you. You exit the app, clicking your phone to sleep before standing up to make it to the stairs, "Thanks...thank you." He shrugs his shoulders when he looks over at you as if to say 'don't mention it'. He barely looks at you when you head up stairs, busying himself by filling up a silver REI canteen by the sink.

He did leave a towel, as well as a change of clothes. At least you knew he wanted you to spend the night. It's not like he'd let you leave the house this late anyway, you roll your eyes at yourself when you think about booking an Uber moments before.

You take your time, letting the hot water pour over you and calm your tense shoulders. Washing away the stickiness in your chest and on your skin. You scrub your face of any remaining makeup that had melted off on the walk home -- happy to not be using whatever random cleanser he got, trying to pretend he knew anything about skin care before you came along.

Some time had passed by the time you finished, padding down the stairs to see he’d pulled on a shirt. His hair hung in frizzy curls down to his collarbone again, drops of water during the worn black fabric blacker. He’s still in the kitchen, emptying the dishwasher with tight shoulders and furrowed brows like he’s thinking about something. “Thanks for the jammies,” you chirp, sitting at the island on your designated barstool. “Yup,” he says, not turning to see you – very interested in the glassware he’s holding instead. Your shoulders droop with how curt he’s being, not used to this sort of standoffish attitude. He didn’t even get this miffed when you shrugged off his suggestion to watch Lord of the Rings and sided with Steve to watch Almost Famous. You hadn’t seen it in years. 

“You okay?” you ask, his shoulders tense. “Yeah baby, I’m okay,” he says, but he shuts the dishwasher a little too hard for that to be true. 

“You don’t seem okay.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Is this about the party?”

“I said I’m fine, peach,” he repeats. 

“I mean, it’s just a party Ed, it’s like – people go to parties –” 

“I said I’m fine.” He looks at you for the first time since you got in the house. It’s pointed, accusatory, and as much as you wish it didn’t, you immediately get defensive. 

“Wait -– ” you let out a bitter laugh, “Are you mad about the coke? Seriously?” 

“Drop it,” he says lowly, “Let’s not –” 

“Are you seriously upset because I did coke at a party and you weren’t there?” you’re incredulous, “You? Eddie ‘Can’t Remember Berlin’ Munson?” 

“Stop, just forget it–” 

“No, let’s not stop – let’s not drop it. What’s your problem with me going out and enjoying myself? You mad I’m having fun without you?”  “It’s not about you going out and enjoying yourself. That’s not what it is.”

“Then what is it? What is it about me going to that party that’s got you so pissed off?” "'Cause I don't like that -- I don't like hearing that you're out getting sloppy at parties. I don't like hearing that you're trying new shit just for fun when you're by yourself," his gaze is hard while he leans over the island, chain dangling down from his neck. "I'm not by myself, I'm with my friends," you argue back, "Jesus Christ, Ed, I'm almost thirty years old."

"Coulda fuckin' fooled me," he snaps.

"Oh I forgot, you know everything. You've been there, done that. You know so much better than me, don't you?" your sarcasm makes him bite his tongue, anger teasing down his back in a blaze. Eddie hates that he has a short fuse -- he doesn't want to have one with you.

"Who'd you even get it from?" he asks, "Did you know 'em? Did you know if it was clean? Did they test it?" "Do you always know where your drugs are coming from?" you counter back. "Yeah, peach," he says with a nod, "I fucking do. I always know. God, it's like you think you're fuckin' invincible or some shit. I swear --" "I know who I got it from, it was clean -- the guy's loaded," you explain, face hot with frustration, "Can't imagine he's out there passing out fake stuff." The guy's loaded. So it was a guy -- Ed feels sick in a way that he hasn't in years. What was some guy doing telling you to try his shit? How drunk were you? Did you think he was cute? Rich guy? Did he try to pull one over on you? "How much did you pay for it?" he asks, crossing his arms. "What?"

"I wanna know if this guy scammed you, how much did you pay?"

"I didn't," you shrug. Eddie gets quiet, jaw clenching when you mention you got drugs on the house. He only knows one way that that's possible and it makes a rage in him bubble that he tries so hard to contain. His tongue runs over his teeth, trying to choose his words carefully. "You didn't pay for it?" he asks, the question clipped and tight. "No," you shrug innocently. "Did you fuck 'im?" "Wh-what?" the question punches out of you in shock. Why would he ever ask that? Why would he ever assume that? "You heard what I said," he bites, "Did. You. Fuck. Him?"

"No, I didn't fuck him," you hiss back angrily, "Why would you ever ask me that?"

"Can't think of another way to get drugs for free," he challenges back, "Did'ja suck him off? You're always tellin' me how good you are at it -- did you give him a fuckin' show?"

"What the actual fuck is wrong with you?" you get up off the barstool, posture matching his with your arms crossed tight around your chest.

"I'm just asking you a question," he repeats, his shoulders raising up and down in big breaths. "And I answered -- I didn't fuck him for free drugs," your head ticks to the side, "Sorry, not all of us have read the Eddie Munson doctrine."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just saying that I didn't do what you would've done." Your smart smirk when you finish your sentence makes him dig his nails into his biceps, a reminder to keep his hands to himself -- to calm down. This isn't about the drugs or the guy that gave them to you -- but he doesn't like that this is how you see him. Someone whose reckless and careless, someone who uses people to get what he wants. "Who do you think you are?" he snaps, "Huh? You don't know what you're talking about."

"If the first thing you think when I say I got drugs for free is that I fucked for them, then it's pretty clear that's how you go about your own business. How many people have you fucked for drugs?" you ask, "Actually, a better question would probably be how many people have fucked you for them?" "You told me you used to deal -- so c'mon loverboy, how many women did you have fuck you for drugs? If that's how to do it." Eddie shakes his head, eyes shut and jaw tense, taking a shaky deep breath through his nose and out through his mouth, "I never had anyone fuck me for drugs."

"So why would I have done it? Why do you always assume I'm doing something wrong? Why do you always expect me to act like I know what you know all the time? And better yet -- why does it even FUCKING matter?!" your voice grows higher and louder with each question, watching him get more and more frustrated while you continue, "Why does it even matter when you don't commit anyway? Maybe you're fucking around!" "I'm not -- ugh -- I'm not fucking around, peach!" he snaps back, chucking his water bottle hard into the sink with a loud clang. "Nice, Ed," you nod, arms crossing tighter around you, "Real nice -- what, you gonna hit me? That what's next on your list? Really put me in my place? Sounds so fucking familiar, I wonder where I heard it bef--" "SHUT UP." His voice booms through the kitchen, making you flinch. "Don't you EVER say that shit to me," he bellows, finger pointing directly in your face from across the island, "Don't you EVER make that comparison." You stand there, chewing on the inside of your cheek while he yells. "Do you feel better?!" he asks, voice hoarse and deep, graveled with anger, "Do you feel better now, peach?! Did that help?! Do you feel fuckin' validated?" He watches you shake your head no, tears starting to pool in your eyes. They look up at him, glassy and wet, threatening to spill over onto your cheeks. He takes a deep breath, chest sinking when he sees the way you look at him -- silenced and quiet now, because he scared you. Because he's scary -- and that's why he shouldn't be with anyone, that's why it's too much to feel this way about someone. You wipe at your cheeks when the tears spill out, a few whimpers coming from you when you start to cry from how he yelled. From how you don't really know what you're both fighting about, but you both really know and it's terrifying. "Don't -- no baby, I'm sorry, don't cry," he says, his own breath shuddering, "I didn't mean to yell, I'm sorry. I won't -- I won't ever raise my voice at you like that." He rounds the corner of the island, coming to meet you on the other side with extended arms. His hands find their way to your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the tears gathering at your lash line, "I'm so sorry, I won't ever yell like that again. I promise. I -- I'm -- there's no excuse for that." He leans forward to leave a soft kiss on your forehead and the tip of your nose, "I'm sorry."

"That's - sniffle - not what I need you t-to be sorry f-for," you stutter out. He frowns back at you and nods. "I -- peach I just get worried, that's all," he confesses, "I don't really think you went and slept with that guy I just --"

He swallows, thinking about the words he wants to say. His hands drop from your cheeks to pull you in to him. He settles on the barstool, pulling you close to stand between his legs like he has before. "I don't wanna not hear from you for a week only to like, get a text or call from your sister that something bad happened," he says, his dark brown eyes getting as glassy as yours the more he thinks about it. "I know you're an adult, I know you can take care of yourself and that you're safe," he assures, "I promise, I know. I'm just scared." "What're you scared of?" you ask. "Losin' you," he shrugs, "To y'know, addiction or whatever -- or worse. I don't wanna lose you -- I really like having you around. Your -- you've added so much to my life in such a short period of time and I -- I don't know, peach. I think since Steve's wife I just -- It's something I think about." "You being scared doesn't give you the right to accuse me of sleeping around," your face hasn't softened at his explanation, not letting him get away with being an asshole. He likes that about you -- you don't take his shit, "It doesn't give you the right to talk down to me like I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."

"I know," he nods, "That was unfair." "I think you're just trying to find reasons to make me seem not worth it," you let out without waiver, "Even if you have to make them up."

"No," his brows furrow, "No, you're so worth it. Why would you say that?" "You were so quick to accuse me of some wild shit," you scoff, "It's like you're trying to fight with yourself about it. About how you feel and like -- maybe that lady from the bar a while ago was right. Maybe I have been just for fun for you. You got to play house with me, you got to see what a relationship is like for fun and now you can ruin it cause you're over it. Or you're bored." "No -- " he starts, heart thrumming in his chest, throat getting tight, "Peach that's not it at al--" "It seems like it --" "Did you not just hear what I said about losing y--" "I don't wanna hear it, it's just bullsh--" "Baby, I'm trying to be honest with y--" "This is starting to feel like a shitty game that you're trying t--" "I love you." You stop talking at the slight raise in his voice, the weight of the sentence hanging over the both of you in the kitchen. "God peach, I -- I fucking love you. I'm in love with you," he breathes, like he's fully realizing it for himself, too, "I...shit, I think about you all the time. I go to sleep excited cause I know m'gonna see you the next day I...Jesus babe, I -- I love you." Your lower lip wobbles again, "Yeah?" "Yeah," he nods, sighing weakly, "I knew when we got you your glasses. I knew -- I think I knew from the start. And I'm scared cause I -- I don't love people like this a lot." "Just Steve," you sniffle with a watery laugh. He lets out a chuckle, reaching out to pull you close to him by the waist. "Steve's different," he shrugs, "M'never gonna love anyone like Steve."

"I'm sorry for what I said," he reaches up again, running the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, "I'm sorry for yelling." "I'm sorry, too," you match him, hand reaching up to run your fingers through his bangs, pushing them away from his forehead to kiss it. His eyes shut closed at the soft touch, feeling you step close to him while his face rests on your chest. "I..that was fucked up of me to bring up your dad," you shake your head, "I was just angry I -- I'm so sorry." "It's okay," he mumbles, wrapping his arms around you. He rests his chin on your breasts, looking up at you, "I -- I've done a lot of work to not end up like him. Sometimes it still gets the better of me." "But I need you to know something," his face is soft but serious, "I will never put my hands on you, ever." "Okay," you nod, giving him another kiss on the bridge of his nose. "Only if you ask," he smirks, "Only if you want me to. If we're doing that." You both giggle in that way that couples do when they're being gross, holding each other on the barstool. Silence carries over you when the giggle runs out, both of you exhausted from the night -- from fighting. "I love you, too," you whisper down to him. "Thank god, cause I was really nervous that I just sort of let it all out there for nothing," he whispers back. He stands up, still wrapped up in you, offering you gentle kisses. He holds you there for a minute, you hold each other -- he realizes how tender he is with you. How you pull all of this tenderness out of him. "You're my girl, right?" he asks into the top of your head. You nod into his chest, his hand reaching up to caress over your hair. "Are you mine?" you ask into his shirt. "Yeah," he smirks into a low laugh, "Yeah, I'm your girl." "Can we go to bed?" sleepiness coats the question, a neediness lacing your voice. "Mhm." He leads you up the stairs, calling to his Google home to turn the lights off when you both make it to the top. He got a new candle for his room, something with oud in it. Woody, deep, musky. Ahead of the season. You slip into bed at the same time, leaving your phone on the side table while he slips his glasses on to check something on his. You watch him with his bedside lamp illuminating him from behind. It catches on the frizz in his wavy curls, tied up in ponytail. It bleeds over the slop of his nose and the whites of his eyes. He catches you when he puts his phone to the side, smiling. "What're you lookin' at?" he asks, slipping his glasses off and click out the light. "You just look handsome," you shrug. He murmurs a thank you before dipping down to kiss you when he slides under the covers. For the first time in forever he doesn't want to have sex after a fight -- it almost feels cheap. Like it's a cover -- like he's not really sorry, like he didn't mean all the things he said. "Night, pretty." He pulls you into him when you settle in, your back pressed up against his chest, "I love you." "I love you," you say back, eyes closed, encased in his arms. He's never held someone so tight to him. Not since Chicago.

prev | next

[iwishthebestforyou]

why'd you only call me when your high ; arctic monkeys

can't get enough of you

tw: angst, a bit suggestive

scara x gn!reader

You and your boyfriend- well, ex boyfriend scaramouche were on very bad terms. He ghosted you for his stupid career, signing up for a stupid entertainment company and it resulted in a huuge fight that ended in a messy breakup.

You were upset, pissed and of course, sad. This man was the guy you saw as your true love but he took all of that and threw it in the trash for a stupid band.

It's been six months since the breakup and you felt like shit, yeah sure maybe the drinks and the useless hookups were able to remove all that pain for a few minutes but after it felt more shitty and to add on the pain is the fact HE actually got popular, every time you heard his name it felt like a punch to the gut.

" Fuuuck. "

You groaned, downing another shot at the loud crowded club, the music was drowning your thoughts. It was well past the proper time you should've gotten home but did you care? Not really. If it meant you could drown the feelings away then for sure, you already lost your friends the moment you stepped in the club and coincidentally there was a bar right beside where you ended up in.

You were just about to down another shot until you felt your phone buzz.

A random number was calling you, who the fuck would be calling.. a unknown number too.

Who the hell calls at 4am??

Irritated, you picked up the phone wondering who it was until a deep voice spoke from the phone.

" Hello? "

.. an all to familiar voice.

It's him.

" Scara? "

You asked, voice trembling a bit, not expecting a call like that especially not at 4am when your out clubbing like crazy.

Still drunk, you quickly started speaking

" Why are you calling?- no how are you calling? I blocked your number! "

You yelled angrily, not caring about the stares you were getting from the people around you who are just trying to enjoy their drinks.

You heard him sigh before he quickly responded, his voice rushed.. strained.

" Dosent matter, where are you? "

Your anger flared, the drinks in your system fueling it up even more

" Who the fuck are YOU to ask that? You ghost me for months and suddenly you're calling back asking where I am?

He responded in a desperate manner, sounding like he was slowly about to snap.

" I'm just asking you a simple fucking question. " He said, his voice cracking. " I need to see you, please. "

It caught you off guard, he said it so desperately, he didn't sound sober at all.

" ... This is so fucked up. " You muttered, everything about this was wrong. The breakup. The months of radio silence, and now this?

You responded, so done with the whole situation. Everything was so messed up, it was so messy, it was so fucked up, and you hated yourself for feeling that familiar ache.

" ..Just for tonight. "

It was wrong, but hearing his voice again gave you that feeling you haven't felt in such a long time, a warm fuzzy feeling deep inside that you tried your best to ignore.

You knew it's a bad choice, this will get you nowhere. You need to move on from him- he won't give you shit.

But,

Deep inside you knew you missed him and that aching feeling was too much to ignore.

You made a decision you knew you shouldn't have.

" I'm at the club, the one near my house. " You said, hating yourself for it.

It went silent for a moment before he responded with a simple word.

" Coming. "

He hung up and you slammed your phone down, already regretting the whole interaction, you ordered more drinks, hoping to wash away that feeling of regret that you know you'll be feeling for the next few months.

After an hour or so, you were in an expensive car beside the man you swore up and down to everyone that you'd rather die than see again, the ride was silent no words were exchanged, until he broke the silence with a low chuckle.

" You look like shit. "

Scara commented, you scoffed looking away.

" I don't even know why I agreed to this. "

You said, muttering to yourself, the drinks you had earlier already giving you a headache, or maybe it was this situation that was giving you the headache.. maybe both.

You and him eventually reach his house, silently getting out and entering the house you used to call home. It was colder than before and much more emptier, it lacked the cozy feeling it once had.

You and him sat on the couch together, it was silent for a moment until you broke the silence.

" Why'd you call me over? To sit in silence?, this is useless.. " You said, irritated, the frustration evident in your voice.

" Stay the night. " He said bluntly, looking at you dead in the eye.

You wanted to curse him out, scream and cry at him, punch him in the gut, everything! But with his desperate voice.. you couldn't.

You just couldn't get yourself to be mad, he sighed breaking the eye contact. Confused at the sudden mood change you spoke.

" what happe- "

Before you could complete your sentence, he cut you off by leaning in, capturing your lips in a rough, desperate kiss. You froze, shocked, but your body betrayed you, kissing him back just as fiercely. It was like nothing had changed. The same fire, the same intensity. His lips felt too familiar, his touch igniting something you thought you’d buried.

It was wrong. So, so wrong. But it felt so right in that moment, and you couldn’t stop yourself.

“I need you,” he whispered, voice husky, breath hot against your skin. “Now.”

The obvious answer should’ve been no. You should have walked out, slammed the door behind you, and never looked back. But you didn’t. Instead, you nodded, letting him take control.

This was the feeling you craved, that warm validation you couldn't get from those random hookups you had for months, not even the alcohol could compare to this.

It feels good.

Is this what love is?

—

Hours later, you lay beside him in bed, tangled in sheets and false promises. His arms wrapped tightly around you, his voice soft as he whispered apologies.. Apologies you knew weren’t real. Promises you knew were empty.

But you let him hold you anyway.

He’d hurt you again. You knew that. He’d use you until he didn’t need you anymore. You weren’t a priority to him, never had been. Just a temporary fix.

Underneath his confident persona, he was so fucking weak. So sensitive and so so fragile. So broken.

But you were just as broken as he was.

You listened to his words, pretending they were true, pretending you were more than just an option to him.

Because, in this moment, you needed the illusion.

After all, this was love, right?

Once he feels loved again, he'll throw you away. You're nothing more than an option, you will never be a choice.

But you also know, you are nothing but a broken person trying to console another broken person.

You'll ignore the reality.

Afterall, this is love.

Right?

[brotherwtf]

What happens the morning after Gale climbs up into John’s bunk in flight school? 🤭

oh my God I was waiting for someone to ask this.... let's just say Gale's having homosexual thoughts and Johns trying to figure out the meaning of the word

----

Gale tried not to think about it.

He tried not to think about what he had done, what he had so foolishly done because he was caught up in the heat of the moment, caught up in his stupid queer feelings for John. He tried not to think about how John tasted, how he felt heavy in his mouth, tried not to think about the salty bitterness of his come.

He also tried not to think about how John seemed to want him to stay, he seemed like he was reaching for Gale when he pulled away, but Gale was definitely reading into that.

He said they would talk in the morning, but Gale decided he was going to go on a run. To try and forget about it, he reasoned. He did about three laps around the base before the thoughts of John's breathy moans clenched fists came back to him, and he finally decided to go back to the barracks. John was likely gone, he probably had missed him. At, least, that's what he hopes.

But John was sitting at his desk, reading Gale's book of poems with his eyebrows furrowed and Gale knew that this conversation had to happen at some point.

"Morning," Gale says, his voice thick and a little scratchy. He winces at the thought of what could have caused it.

John gives him a tight lipped smile, one that conveys he has a thousand things to say but no idea how to say it and it's ripping Gale apart inside.

"So..." John starts but Gale just interrupts him.

"I'm sorry, John. I shouldn't have done something like that, it was foolish and wrong and I understand if you want nothing to do with me anymore. I can move out, we can never talk again, I'm just so fucking sorry, John," Gale pleads.

John pauses, mouth hung open in slight confusion as he looks at Gale. He doesn't seem angry or upset, like Gale thought he would be, he just seems so conflicted.

"What? Buck, no, I swear I'm not mad, really. I'm just... I don't understand it because I liked it. I liked it a lot... when you did it," John says and hell must have frozen over because for the first time in John's life he looks embarrassed to admit that, a pretty flush painting John's cheeks pink.

It's Gale's turn to balk, completely taken aback by the tender confession. His mind is spinning. John liked it, he liked it. He didn't hate Gale or think he was a no good queer for what he had done.

"You liked it?" Gale asks carefully and John shakes his head, scrubbing a hand down his face and sighing.

"Yeah? I did, Buck, I liked it when you did it," John admits.

Gale walks closer to John, slowly, until he's standing right in front of him and has to peer down to look at him.

"What does that mean for us, John?" Gale asks, voice barely above a whisper.

One of John's hands experimentally comes up to hold Gale's hand, tries interlacing their fingers and sighs, expression still confused.

"I want to try it, I want to try doing this... whatever this is... with you. You've got me hooked, Gale," John admits, and that's when Gale leans down to kiss him.

It's something tender, just the pressing of lips together with their fingers interlaced, Gale has to bend down a little bit to slot their lips together but it feels good, it feels correct. John's lips are warm and there's a slight scratch of stubble from the scraggly mustache he's been trying to grow, but everything feels right, it feels good, and Gale can't help but smile.

He pulls away and gives John a sweet smile, which he returns and squeezes Gale's hand between his.

"Yeah, let's try it," Gale admits and he leans down to press another tender kiss to John's lips.

[noellawrites]

Souvenir - Yandere!Luca x reader

summary: Luca just can't let his rivalry with Carmy go, so he leaves a permanent reminder inside of you. afab reader but no specified pronouns.

warnings: smut, baby-trapping, condom sabotage, forced breeding

You weren't even supposed to go to Copenhagen. The trip was booked for Marcus when his mother took a turn for the worse. So here you were, the recipient of a non-refundable flight, standing in front of Denmark's most renowned kitchen. As The Beef's only waitress, saying you had a lack of food prep knowledge was an understatement. But with Tina and Ebra back in school, the task was left to you.

—

"Carmy taught me everything I know about good service. Really, I owe everything to him. I thought he'd boot me after taking over The Beef but thank god he didn't," you rambled.

"Sounds like he means a lot to you," Luca spoke quietly as he prepped an example dessert.

"He's the best chef I've ever worked with. Maybe not as intense as your rival chef, but he definitely challenges me. For example, sending me here with no experience," you laughed, picking up a tub of diced almonds.

"Seems like a real bond," Luca said simply. He reached across to the other side of you and his tattoos crossed into your line of vision.

"He's like my mentor, brother, work husband and hero all in one. Actually, that sounds stupid when I say it out loud," you laughed nervously.

"I know what you mean. To be so consumed by someone's talent that you just want to seep into their skin," Luca agreed.

A comfortable moment of silence hung between you both as you kept working. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him staring at you with an unreadable expression before he turned away to grab some dough.

—

"Your lips taste better than any dessert," Luca whispered in your ear as he traced his fingers down your stomach. Pleasure tickled down your spine and he pushed down your shorts, reaching into your panties and tracing your clit.

"Ah--ahh, Luca!" you moaned, and he clamped a hand over your mouth.

Through the dark, you could just make out his pepper tattoo on his hand, which oddly enough reminded you of Carmy. Come to think of it, the patchy placements of his tattoos reminded you a lot of Carmy's. And his entire apartment was bare just like Carmy's was, too. Even Luca's intense expressions sometimes mirrored Carmy's.

I really shouldn't be thinking of Carmy when I'm about to have sex with this hot pastry chef, you thought.

As Luca started pulling his boxers down, you held your hand out to stop him.

"Do you have a condom?" you asked, sitting up and looking around.

"Dresser, top drawer," he said, sounding a bit irked. You handed him the small plastic square and laid back down.

You could hear him ripping open the package with his teeth and stretching the condom over his cock when he suddenly pulled your panties down the rest of the way.

You were lost in pleasure as he dove into your pussy, licking and sucking with his expertly trained tongue.

—

Luca held you against him with his strong arms as you both reached orgasm together, a mess of sweat and pleasure and moans.

"Oh shit Luca, did you just cum in me?" you gasped, wriggling away from him as post-sex clarity struck you.

"The condom must've broken," he said, but you pulled away from him too quick and managed to see what he was trying to hide: the empty, fully intact condom next to him. His hard cock pulled out of you, covered in a mix of your cum, no condom on him at all.

"What the fuck, Luca?!"

"Stay here. With me."

Luca's kind eyes had turned dark, an ulterior motive lurking underneath the surface. You didn't know what he was up to, but you knew it couldn't be good.

You quickly gathered your clothes from the floor and tried to yank your pants on. Luca stood, still completely naked, and moved to stand in front of the door leading outside his flat.

"Move, I need to go pick up Plan B. I'm ovulating, you fucking asshole!"

"You're not leaving. Not until your flight."

"Oh my god, this is so fucked up! I-I barely even know you!" you cried.

"You knew me enough to let me fuck you," he laughed, pulling on his boxers. As much as you hated to admit it, he had stretched you better than anyone else had before.

"I hate you, Luca."

—

You took a Plan B when you got back to Chicago, but by then it was too late. Not only did you bring back three desserts for The Bear's new menu, but you also brought back a tiny baby in your stomach. A little bundle of cells forever tying you to the British pastry chef. You sobbed as you told Carmy, who then gave you the entire story about how he and Luca had met. Rivals, but Carmy was clearly more skilled, more talented, more ambitious.

But now, Luca had finally bested Carmy at something. He left you a permanent reminder, a souvenir from your travels, a big 'fuck you' to his former rival chef.

part two