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byeoltoyuki · 6 months ago

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↳ Pairing: Seungmin x reader

❧ Genre: rivals to lovers / romance / smut

❧ Words: +4k

❧ Warnings: unprotected sex, oral (f)

❧Summary : Years ago, he used to be your enemy.

No. Enemy was too strong to describe what Kim Seungmin was to you. Your rival was a better term. He was everything you weren’t; friendly, funny and effortlessly brilliant. You loathed him for that. And yet, when you meet him again years later, you just can’t deny that there’s something else between you too.

❧ A/N : Honestly, this one comes out of nowhere. I just needed to write so here it comes ♥ Reblogs and comments are always appreciated ♥

***

‘Trust your guts’.

It was your motto in life. A simple rule. And you abided by this rule half of your short lived life. But not tonight and you regretted it. Deeply.

The annual gathering with people from your college was an event your closest friends adored just so they could show some idiots that they had succeeded in life. You? You avoided it. An event you hated with all your heart. You always found excuses not to go. Your life depended on it.

Okay. Not really. Not your life at least. But definitely your ego.

You hated half of the people who attended the event. Back in college, they were so quick to judge, to talk behind your back and yet they expected you to be nice to them. To them, you were just a cold, nerdy girl with no friends. Someone they could easily mock. They hated your attitude. They hated your looks. But they also hated how easily you beat them every single time.

They were wrong.

Yes, you were a little nerdy back then, but you weren’t a cold person, just shy. And you had friends. Not many, but you didn’t need many to feel good. To be happy. Those you had, stuck by your side and they also happened to be the reason you had finally agreed to come to the gathering. You just couldn’t say no to Hyunjin and Yeji, not when those two formed an alliance against you. You had no chance against them.

You sighed to yourself. Would it be rude to grab your purse and leave? One nasty look from Hyunjin, as if he could read your mind, and you gulped nervously. Apparently it was. You slumped further into your chair and tried to keep up with the conversation. Same boring conversation. ‘Where do you currently work?’ ‘Are you soon getting married?’ ‘I’ve bought a house!’ Why did it have to be a competition? Couldn't they just enjoy a nice gathering and the meal?

“Hyunjin, I heard you’re flying to Paris for the fashion week.” Seoah were almost drooling as she spoke to Hyunjin. You cringed. She couldn’t make it even more obvious that she wasn’t just admiring him. No, she had something else on mind. Too bad, Hyunjin was a taken man even if she didn’t know that.

He smiled into his drink. “Yes, tomorrow.” He put his glass back on the table and glanced smugly at a silently fuming Juwon who always hated Hyunjin’s popularity. “I was actually supposed to leave today, but I couldn’t miss our annual gathering! It’s good to see you guys.”

What a liar. You had to bite your lips not to laugh at his words.

Juwon cleared his throat and averted his attention on you. Hell no. “You look different.” For once, it didn’t sound like an insult but you were still weary of him. No nice words coming out of his mouth could make you forget what kind of asshole he was. And you had a hard time to believe that he had actually changed.

“Do I?” You did look different from the past. You used not to care about your looks. Who cared how you looked as long as you had good grades? You certainly didn’t. Neither did your friends. But it changed. Ever since you started working at your art gallery, you understood the importance of how others perceived you. You learnt to do your makeup right. You took care of your long hair. And you changed your whole wardrobe. You got classier. And maybe tonight you put an extra effort to look good. Not that you needed to impress anyone, but you did it anyway.

“It suits you!” Another woman commented, genuinely excited. You couldn’t remember her name but you thanked her with a smile.

Yeji eyed you from the other side of the big table, thumbs up, her eyes telling you silently ‘told you so’. You ignored her. Just because you could.

“I wonder with what kind of man you ended.” Juwon was too curious for his own good.

“Oh come on.” Seoah laughed as if the idea of you dating was ridiculous. “I bet she’s still single.”

How typical of her to assume. Not that she was wrong, but her comment still pissed you. Did she think you were still the same woman as back in college? Just because right at this moment, you were indeed single, didn’t mean you refused dating. You did and got tired of it. Every relationship you had, always started nice, romantic even, but always ended the same way: you breaking up with the guy. They were nice men who truly cared for you but there was just something missing.

However, before you could share a piece of your mind with Seoah, you were interrupted.

“Sorry guys, I’m late!”

That voice.

That stupidly, annoying voice. Your whole body reacted; you shuddered, unable to breath, unable to think properly.

Kim Seungmin.

Here came a man you wished you could avoid for the rest of your life. You knew, your hatred for him was irrational. Compare to others, he had never done anything to you. Seungmin never mocked you, never made any bad comments. But he was your rival. No matter how hard you worked, no matter how many hours you spent in the library, studying, he still beat you every single time. It drove you crazy. But what made everything tenths time worse was the fact that Seungmin quickly caught on your little game and it amused him. You hated him for that too.

“You’re right on time!” Juwon pushed a chair for him. “We’ve been discussing Y/N’s love life!” His gaze slid to you and smirked. “Or lack of it.” Yep. Still an asshole, you were right.

Seungmin quirked a brow at Juwon’s words. You felt his eyes on you. On your face, on your neck, on your arms. Your skin burned under his gaze but you refused to acknowledge his presence for the sake of your sanity.

Maybe a tiny part of you expected Seungmin to comment Juwon’s words, maybe even laugh at it. But he did none of that. Instead you felt him only closer to you which made your unease grow with every passing seconds.

“Do you mind if we switch places?” Seungmin asked the girl beside you, taking the two of you completely off guard.

You opened your mouth, a protest on the tip of your tongue but the girl beside you was faster. She hurried to leave her spot. Seungmin flashed her a pretty smile and sat right next to you. Despite you wanting to avoid him, now that he sat so close to you, your arm brushing his, there was no escape. Now that you were staring right into his pretty, annoying, eyes, you knew: you were fucked.

“As for what you said Juwon. Lack of love life?” Seungmin repeated his words. He moved a little closer to you and before you could push him away, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, bringing you against him. “How come you didn’t tell them about us, babe?”

Loud gasps followed by whispers.

What.

What the actual fuck?!

If from outside you looked perfectly composed, at least to those who didn’t know you well enough, inside you were completely freaking out. His words made no sense. His body, his warmth that should have repelled you, felt actually nice.

Kim Seungmin was trying to help you. You heard him. You understood what he was saying but you didn’t understand why. You weren’t friends, not even close and you hadn’t seen each other for so long. I’ll deal with you later.

Something was wrong with you too because instead of pushing him away, you leant into him and accepted his help. “Because they wouldn’t have believed me. Should I remind you that we used to hate each other?” You reminded him and playfully poked his side.

Seungmin leaned closer, his lips so close to yours – you gulped but didn’t avert your eyes from his face. How annoyingly pretty he looked with his eyes shining brightly with mischief. Fine, he was helping you but he was clearly having fun too.

“Wrong.” He said and kissed the corner of your lips.

Gasps again.

Your heart skipped a beat. The corner of your lips tingled and you found yourself wishing his lips had stayed longer. What the actual fuck, Y/N. This whole night was a terrible idea and you kept making bad decisions. Getting drunk and hoping to forget everything seemed like a good idea right now.

“I never hated you.” He added and pulled back to face the others as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb at them. And at you. “What’s up?”

And just like that they started talking again. But you heard none of that. All you could hear was the sound of your roaring heart. All you could feel was the lingering feeling of his lips. All you could think about was Seungmin and this thing going on between the two of you tonight. ‘I never hated you.’ Fine. Maybe he never did but you weren’t on best terms either. You wanted to take him outside and talk to him. Was it his attempt at messing with you? Or was he really just being genuinely nice?

You noticed Hyunjin and Yeji staring at you, questions in their eyes. You didn’t blame them. They had to know none of it was real, they were your best friends. You wouldn’t have hidden something as big as dating Kim Seungmin from them.

“And you Yeji?” Seungmin’s voice brought you back from your reverie. “I heard your new song, it’s really nice.” You wanted to concentrate on what he was saying since he was talking about your friend. You couldn’t. Not when he put his hand on your thigh. Not when he made it look so natural. Not when, despite it happening under the table, it attracted attention on the two of you again.

It should feel wrong. In fact, you should be appalled by his boldness. You didn’t. It felt awfully nice. And right. Instead of pushing him away, you simply watch him talking. You didn’t want to admire his face but it was hard not to. Even if you weren’t fond of him, you weren’t blind. Kim Seungmin was handsome. Pretty eyes, pretty nose and even prettier mouth. Without realizing it, you licked your lips, wondering how it would feel against yours. Or at any other part of your body.

Oh my god. Did they put something in my drink? There’s no way I’m thinking about him. But you were.

Seungmin squeezed your thigh, the palm of his hand feeling suddenly too hot against your skin. He forgot all about his friends and leant closer. “If you keep staring at me like that we might have a problem.” He warned you.

Your breath caught in your throat and you couldn’t ignore how your face flushed. “When did you get so bold?” You whispered in return.

Seungmin smiled in response. A smile so beautiful, so bright, you wanted to keep it for yourself.

“Growing up does that to a person.” He whispered, his lips brushed your ear. “And also, you look really pretty tonight.”

You couldn’t stop the blush from spreading all over your face even if you tried.

Kim Seungmin was a menace. But a very beautiful and annoying one.

“Okay, that’s enough.” One of the guy groaned. “Get a room. Some of us are sadly single and you two are just disgusting.”

Seungmin laughed heartily and unfortunately for you pulled away from you. A tiny part of you was relieved for the space, but another part of you almost whined at the loss of his warmth. Yeah, there was something wrong with you.

****

Somehow you managed to survive through the whole meal without a fight, without people trying to mess with you. In fact, you even managed to laugh a few times and it wasn’t just because of your friends’ jokes. And maybe it had everything to do with Seungmin.

“Should I drive you home?” Hyunjin whispered to your ear, making sure that nobody heard you.

It was the plan. You came with them and you were supposed to leave with them. You glanced at Seungmin and you couldn’t believe yourself: you were hesitating. You could leave with your friends but then you wouldn’t be able to talk to him and have a chance to thank him for his help.

Seungmin was faster to react. “I’ll take her home. Right babe?” He grabbed your jacket from your chair and waited for you.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes at his words, tempted to pull you back against him. You patted his back. “I should go with Seungmin.”

Hyunjin cocked a brow, surprised with your answer. You gave him a small smile and promised to text him and Yeji later.

Seungmin waited for you. Your body moved on its own accord. When you were close enough, Seungmin helped you to put your jacket on. You were thankful he couldn’t see your flushed face.

“There. All good.” He told you. “Are you ready?”

You were not.

***

You didn’t want the drive to your place to be awkward but it was. You didn’t know how to start the conversation with him. You knew nothing about this Kim Seungmin or how to deal with him.

“Thank you for tonight.” You said awkwardly without looking at him.

From the corner of your eyes you saw him glance at you. You expected him to make a comment, to make it easier for you but he didn’t. He returned his attention to the road. Damn him.

You sighed and slumped further into your seat. “I still don’t understand why you helped me.” This time, you looked at him.

Seungmin shrugged. “They were being dicks for no good reason.”

True, they were but it wasn’t anything new. Seungmin never stood up for you before so why now? “You didn’t need to pretend though.” He could have said anything but no, he chose to play your fake boyfriend instead.

Seungmin parked the car by the entrance of your building and then fully faced you. His eyes sparked with delight and something else. “I admit; it wasn’t my plan. But then, I had one look at you and couldn’t help myself.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “So you were messing with me.”

“Maybe a little.”

So damn infuriating. You hurried to unbuckle your seatbelt and opened the door.

“I wasn’t joking you know.” Seungmin stopped you with his words, realizing that if he wanted for you to talk to him, he needed to be genuine. “I never hated you.” He sighed and ruffled his hair in frustration. “I loved how competitive you were. When I realized how clever you were, it pushed me to work harder, to make sure I stayed on the top. And maybe to annoy you a little too. I remember how you used to scrunch your nose whether you saw I got a better grade than you. So adorable.” He smiled at the memory.

Seungmin left you speechless. Why was he making it sound like he was actually fond of you? And why the hell did his words melted you on the spot? You needed to hurry up; grab your purse and leave this car before you did something unthinkable. But as you stepped outside of his car, your body froze, refusing to leave. I’m losing my mind, that’s it.

“Give me your phone.” You turned back and outstretched your hand. It was a bad idea. Terrible idea. But then again, it was just another one to add to the list of bad ideas. Who cared?

Seungmin didn’t hesitate. Not even for a second as if he had been waiting for this moment for ages. You refused to delve on the matter as you quickly saved your number in his phone. “Call me when you want.”

‘And maybe soon.’ But you didn’t say it.

***

You barely made it inside your flat – your phone rang with an unknown number. You stared at your phone, your heart skipping a beat. You didn’t want to think it could be Seungmin. But were you hoping? Maybe.

“Hi.” You instantly recognized his gentle voice.

You couldn’t help it. You chuckled at his eagerness. “You know, usually people wait few days to call back.”

“Open your door.”

Your eyes widened in shock. Too taken aback, you did as he asked without thinking. And here he was. “Did you follow me?!”

Seungmin smiled sheepishly and put his phone back in his pocket. “Sorry. I-“

Was he nervous? “What are you doing, Seungmin?”

Seungmin took a deep breath and took a step inside your flat. The right thing to do would be to tell him to leave. It was too soon and you weren’t in the right mind. You did none of that.

“I’m desperate.” He admitted.

Your breath hitched in your throat as he got closer to you. You knew that if you let him get too close to you, something could happen. And you didn’t completely dislike the idea. Seungmin halted right before you. His eyes blazed with so much intensity, you gulped nervously.

Gently, Seungmin took your hand and pulled it toward him to press against his chest. You jolted, surprised to feel his heartbeat. Wild. Strong. And his hand so warm. “I was a coward in college and missed my chance. I can’t do it a second time, Y/N. I can’t let you slip between my fingers again.”

Your eyes darted back and forth between your hand against his chest and his eyes. “Are you confessing, Seungmin?”

“What if I am?” He dared you, his grip on your hand tightened. Maybe a little part of him was actually scared of rejection. But he held strong.

You could pull away from him and forget his words.

You could, but you didn’t.

His words stirred something inside you. It made you curious. What if instead of looking for a guy that was nice, you went for the guy who loved to compete with you? A guy who, without you even realizing it, pushed you to be the best version of yourself? You had nothing to lose. So you did something completely out of your character. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your body against his, feeling all of him against you. His body strong and firm against you.

“I’d say you need to show me just how much you like me.”

Seungmin growled at your words and instead of answering you, he claimed your mouth. So eager. So desperate. There was nothing sweet about this kiss and you didn’t mind. Seungmin poured years of frustration and need into the kiss. Poured all his feelings, his longing and you gladly took it all.

You moved through the room without breaking the kiss until your thighs met the edge of your table. You didn’t think twice as you sat on top of it, spreading your legs for him to settle against you. You felt it then, how hard he was, how much he wanted you. You would be lying if you said you weren’t wet and excited for what he could do to you.

Seungmin broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours. “Are you sure?”

You thought it was sweet that he still tried to control himself. That he still wanted to make sure you were comfortable with him touching you. If only he knew how bad you needed him right now. “Hundred per cent sure.” You confirmed and pecked his nose.

“Well then,” Seungmin’s lips moved from your cheek to the corner of your mouth, to your jaw. “I think I want a dessert.” He kissed your shoulder and gently slid the straps of your dress exposing your aching breasts. “So beautiful.” He licked his way from one breast to another – he took one of your breasts in his mouth, playing with you, teasing you.

You moaned softly, your hand nestled in his hair, you pushed his head against your chest. You were right, his mouth felt perfect against your skin and you thought it would be so easy to get addicted. “Touch me.” You begged, the throbbing between your legs getting too much.

“I’m touching you.” He teased, knowing damn well where you needed him the most.

“Seungmin.” You groaned and tug at his hair.

He groaned and bit playfully on your nipple. “Be nice.” With that he hiked your dress higher. He grabbed your panties and tore them off you.

You gasped loudly. “Did you just tear my panties?!”

He chuckled. “Sorry.” He was definitely not sorry judging by his smirk. You took note to make him pay later for it.

Seungmin spread your legs wider and licked his lips at your exposed pussy glistening with your wetness. “Look at that. Already so wet and I barely touched you.” He teased your sweet pussy by dragging a finger from your clit to your entrance, loving how you shivered at this simple touch.

“Seungmin, please.” You begged shamelessly and pushed your hips, needing to feel more.

“Do you want that?” He pushed his fingers deep inside you. So easily. In and out. Slower at first and then faster, watching as you threw your head back, your lips parted. Your soft moans filled the room and it was the sweetest melody to his ears.

Slowly, Seungmin dropped to his knees. Your dizzy mind barely registered what he was doing – he gently scraped his teeth over your clit. He knew exactly what he was doing. The moment he wrapped his lips around your clit, you lost it. A loud moan escaped your lips. He feasted on you eagerly; his mouth, his fingers, he was slowly driving you crazy and you could only beg for more.

“Oh my god, Seungmin.” You mewled and ground against his face.

He was good. Too good. His mouth was divine. He worked his magic so well, you could feel your orgasm so close you could taste it.

“I’m so close. Please.”

Seungmin hummed against your pussy. “Come then.”

And you did. Your whole body trembled as your orgasm washed over you. But he didn’t stop. Seungmin kept sucking on your clit, enjoying how you writhed and tried to pull him away from you, too sensitive from your orgasm.

Seungmin straightened up and slowly pulled out his fingers from your pussy. He watched you, smiling lazily as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked on them.

“Shit.” You clenched around nothing at the sight. He shouldn’t be allowed to look so sinful.

You grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him into another bruising kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. “I need you inside me right now.”

“So bossy.” He chuckled, “What if I want to play more with you?”

You considered it for a moment. You wouldn’t mind him playing with you. But right now, you wanted him buried deep inside you. You wanted him to fuck you so hard you wouldn’t remember why in the hell you considered him as your enemy for so long. Wanted him to fuck you so hard you wouldn’t remember your name.

You reached between your bodies and started working on his belt and then his zipper. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities to play with me later.”

Seungmin arched a brow, amused with your confession. “Will I?”

“Hell yeah.” You grabbed his cock. He was hard and angry and dripping pre-cum. You salivated at the sight. Kim Seungmin was perfect and you were dying to find out how hard he could ruin you. “Please, wreck me?” You asked as nicely as you could manage.

Seungmin shook his head, laughing fondly. “How can I say no to you?”

Seungmin drove into you. One deep thrust that made you grab his arms, holding for your dear life.

“Fuck.” You moaned and tried to compose yourself. He felt perfect, stretching you, filling you just like you needed.

Seungmin dragged his cock slowly at first, letting you time to adjust and maybe also trying to compose himself. Despite all his talk about playing, he couldn’t deny how badly he wanted to lose control and drive you mad. “You were made for me, Y/N.” He grunted, his control slipping little by little. “Fuck.”

“Don’t hold back, please.” Who cared if he ruined you? Who cared if you couldn’t walk tomorrow? You didn’t.

And he didn’t. Seungmin slammed back into you. His thrusts hard. Deep. Reaching all the right spots. Making you cry out his name. Making you whimper. “You are so fucking perfect.” He hissed as you clenched around him.

“Please, please, please.” You didn’t know what you begged for anymore. Was for him to go harder? To go deeper? To slow down? You couldn’t tell. Your mind was overwhelmed. Your body was burning.

Seungmin kept a brutal rhythm, his thrusts vicious, his grip on your body strong, fingers digging into your skin. It would leave marks and you could only wish for more. Let the world see that someone made you feel so good. Let the world see that you belonged to him.

His hand reached between your bodies and rubbed your clit. There was no escape. You came in a loud cry, wildly, explosively, your body shaking. Seungmin fucked you through your orgasm, his thrusts getting sloppier, his grunts louder, seeking his own release.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and claimed his mouth, swallowing his groan as he came deep inside you, trembling against you.

Seungmin rested his head in the crook of your head, panting. For a moment, you didn’t talk and savored just the moment and the press of your sweaty bodies. It felt nice. It felt good. Perfect.

With your orgasm came clarity. “Why haven’t we done it sooner?” You laughed.

Seungmin bit on your collarbone in response. “Because we had other priorities in college.”

That you did. “What a shame.” You sighed dramatically. “Guess we have some serious catch up to do, don’t you think?”

#stray kids #seungmin #stray kids smut #seungmin smut #stray kids x reader #seungmin x reader #stray kids fic #seungmin fic #stray kids fluff #skz smut #skz fic #try

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whenlilyfallsinlove · 8 months ago

Note

sheldon cooper x reader??? thanks 😍

my first request!!! hope you like it :)

girl from the train station

"WAIT!" sheldon's voice called at the train that had just driven off. oh he was so screwed. his mom would be so mad; this had definitely put him off breaking rules for life.

he sighed and looked round to see if there was anyone he could ask for help. then he realised he was in germany, of course there wouldn't be many people that could help him! his german was good, but it could only take him so far.

"hey, are you okay?" your voice interrupted him from his thoughts. he looked up to see you, standing in front of him, a sympathetic smile on your face.

"hallo-." sheldon begins in german but you cut him off.

"i speak english, i'm here visiting family." you chuckle. sheldon finds himself smiling slightly as well, but quickly stops.

"oh well.. i'm definitely not okay, i just missed my train in a foreign country and my mom's going to kill me because she thinks i'm at the library." sheldon says, in a panicked tone.

"calm down," you say comfortingly, "i think my mom can help you get home."

"really? that would be wonderful." sheldon breathes out a sigh of relief.

"yeah.. i'm y/n. by the way. nice to meet you." you hold out your hand for him to shake.

"sheldon." he looks at your outstretched hand, and reluctantly shakes it.

you give him a confused look.

"sorry i don't really like physical contact, no offence but i don't know what germs you have." he states, matter-of-factly.

surprisingly, you laugh. "fair enough."

sheldon smiles slightly back. you seemed a nice enough girl, he felt like he could trust you.

"right, you're in luck, we just dropped my dad and brother off here, so we'll be able to take you back to your mom." you say, and lead him to where he had just bought that damn strudel that made him miss his train in the first place.

"mom" you approach a woman that looked like an older version of you, "sheldon missed his train home and has no way of getting back!"

"now now honey calm down." your mom says then turns to look at sheldon, "do you know where you're staying?"

sheldon nods and tells her where he's staying.

"oh, that's right around the corner from my parents, that'll be easy then, you can come with us if you'd like." your mom smiles at him.

"i.. would like that." sheldon nods.

"great!" you cheer. sheldon looks at you. although you weren't his type of person (then again, who was?), he found you endearing.

"let's go then!" you say, and the three of you walk to your mom's car.

"would you like to sit up front sheldon? i'm feeling generous." you smile at him.

"no thank you, it's statistically safer in the back." he says, but then sees your face drop a little. "thank you though." he adds, and smiles at you.

"that's fine, i'll keep you company." you take a seat beside sheldon in the back.

your mom starts the car, and then you were on your way back to sheldon's hotel.

"so where are you from sheldon?" you ask, wanting to find some things out about him.

"medford, texas. what about you?" he nods.

"nice, i'm from (insert place here)." you respond.

"how come you're in germany anyway, sounds like a long way from home?" you chuckle.

"i'm here at grad school." sheldon responds.

"grad school?! wow you must be a genius." your eyes widen.

sheldon sees your reaction and chuckles.

"i am, i started college at 11." he subtly brags.

"11?? woah!" unlike many other kids his age, you seemed impressed and in awe of him. he liked that.

"yeah." sheldon says.

"i wish i was as smart as you." you look at him.

"it's just a natural gift." he responds. "i'm sure you're good at other things that i'm not. for example sports."

you giggle. "maybe i am. then."

for the rest of the car journey, you and sheldon talked about yourselves. sheldon learnt you came to germany quite a lot because your grandparents lived here, you had an older brother who annoyed the living hell out of you (he could relate) and you were a swimmer. he found himself quite enjoying talking to you, and was quite sorry when he arrived back to his hotel.

"here we are, it's been a pleasure driving you home sheldon." your mom speaks up from the front.

"thank you so much for driving me." he smiles politely.

"mom, please can i walk sheldon in!" you beg.

"alright, but don't be too long." she smiles fondly at you.

"come on." you say to sheldon who thanks your mom again and you walk up to his shared room.

you reach to a stop outside of his door and sigh.

"well.. it was nice meeting you sheldon." you smile sadly at him.

"and you. i had a great time talking to you in the car." he smiles back.

"yeah uhh.. maybe i could give you my number, in case you'd want to talk again..? you can tell me more about your string theory." you feel your face heat up and look down.

sheldon's eyes widen "uhh yeah okay." he surprises himself.

"here." you take hold of his hand and write your number on it, using a pen from you pocket.

"i'll call you." he nods. "well goodbye y/n.."

"bye sheldon." you reply and before he can stop you, you place a quick kiss on his cheek and walk off.

sheldon brought his hand to his cheek, open-mouthed. first, he lied to his mom, then he snuck out, and now he had just been kissed by a girl!

maybe today hadn't been so bad after all.

#x reader #sheldon cooper #sheldon cooper x reader #young sheldon #fanfic #fluff #mary cooper #georgie cooper #george cooper #missy cooper #young sheldon x reader #request

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creepswrites · 28 days ago

Text

TIRED OF RUNNING (CH 2) | Sinclairs x Reader

THIS IS THE COOLEST OMG thank you so much for 1000 followers!!! :D i know this may be silly but this is a big thing for me and i'm super happy about this!! to celebrate, i finally finished ch 2!! i hope you guys enjoy and that it was worth the wait!

SINCLAIR BROTHERS x GN!READER (they/them)

SUMMARY: Before Bo could answer, they were interrupted by a soft groan of pain as your ex lifted his head to try and take in his surroundings. Lester wondered what it looked like to him - the walls covered in wax, the unbearable heat, the churning of the big machine that'd soon encase him in his own wax prison. He hoped the man was terrified. He deserved to be, after all he put you and the boys through.

WARNING: graphic violence, child abuse, suicide

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Vincent slammed the door of the car as he stormed up to the front of the house, ignoring Bo's weak protests as he followed hot on his twin's heels. "Vince, it ain't my fault Mama's sick! What, you want her to jus' waste away and die?!"

The other man spun hard on his heel, managing to glare daggers even behind the wax mask. His hands moved harshly as he signed and ignored the way Bo sighed with annoyance. "You KNOW how important college is to me! Or, more accurately, was. Mama wanted me to be successful, I shouldn't have let you pull me back to this hellhole."

Bo scoffed. "I didn't want ya back either, believe me. But I'm the only one providin' for this fuckin' family and her medical bills're pilin' up, Vince! The money Pa gave ya for school could be used to help her! Y'know, the only woman who ever gave a damn about you-!"

He was cut off harshly as Vincent's fist smashed into his jaw with a hard cracking sound. He grunted as he took a knee to the stomach and collapsed to the pavement. Vincent climbed atop him and wailed on his face in anger, trying to ignore the tears that stung his eyes as he unleashed years and years of pent up anger onto his twin. Besides, even if Mama was cognisant enough to ask him about the bloody nose or black eye, she'd never believe it was Vincent who put them there. Her sweet angel Vinny hitting Bo? Surely not.

Bo had always been the "evil" twin, after all.

By the time his anger ran dry, so had the blood caking Bo's face and Vincent's knuckles. They both panted heavily as Vincent stood on shaking legs, offering a hand to the other to pull him up. Angry or not, they were still brothers. And unlike Bo, he had some amount of compassion for others. Even if he'd just broken their nose.

He got a glare in response but Bo took the hand anyway. "You were always a fuckin' bitch," he grumbled as they both made their way back into the house. "You hit fuckin' hard too, the hell'd you learn to fight like that?"

Vincent made his way to the kitchen to wash off the blood. He pointedly kept his eyes off his twin as he scrubbed his hands, wincing slightly when they began to bleed again with newfound vigor. He searched the drawers for gauze and began to wrap his knuckles, fresh red staining the white wraps quickly. "I learnt from you." He signed once his hands were bandaged.

Bo just glared at him, pulling up a chair to sit in the center of the kitchen. "Gonna be hard to explain to Mama what happened, y'know."

Vincent let out a snort of laughter before setting up shop to bandage his brother's face. "She doesn't even talk anymore," he signed aggressively. "Doubt she'll waste her dying breath to ask who broke your face. Maybe she'll think you're handsome this way." He dropped his hands to grab peroxide and wet a cotton ball with it.

"Guess you'd be an expert in broken faces, huh?" Bo hissed out as Vincent dabbled at his face.

He just clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to smash all of Bo's teeth in as he cleaned up the cuts and blood from the other's face. They were silent after that, the only sounds in the kitchen coming from the leaky faucet and Bo's pained sounds. He didn't feel bad for breaking his face and relished in the fact cleaning him up hurt just as bad if not more.

They'd just finished bandaging his face when they heard their mother start screaming upstairs. Morphine must've run out, Vincent sighed internally. The twins locked in a heated staring match, a silent argument about who was going upstairs. With an exasperated sigh, Vincent finally relented and stomped upstairs to give Bo time to lick his wounds.

Pushing open the door to their mother's room was just as horrible as he remembered. Trudy Sinclair had once been a phenomenal artist, a great creator, and an average mother. Now here she was, reduced to a husk of a person hooked up to tubes and wires that kept her from immediately keeling over. The room smelt like a hospital all compressed down into one, tiny, suffocating room. Vincent was momentarily glad the mask hid his face so he could screw his face up in disgust without his mother seeing. She could only watch with wide eyes as her son's bloody bandaged hands changed her bags to get a fresh dose of morphine coursing through her veins as soon as possible.

He wondered if she'd ask him to put her out of her misery if she could still speak. Damn their father for dying before he could fix her vocal cords. Though maybe it's better she can't speak, he thought as he noticed how her eyes fixed on his hands. Who knows what she'd say if she could.

A large part of him didn't really care.

…

"Vince?" Bo's voice snapped Vincent from his stupor and he glanced over his shoulder, knives in hand. He gave a curt nod and Bo just sighed. The three met back up in the kitchen after arming themselves, listening to your ex wail on the door and heard his friends trying to sneak around to the back of the house. "Alright, I'll take the front, Vinny'll sneak 'round the side through the House of Wax. Lester, you got the back. We kill each and every one'a those fuckin' bastards but leave him alive. I got somethin' special in mind."

Lester cheered in excitement, checking the shotgun was loaded before tilting his hat. "See ya when the smoke clears."

"Don't have too much fun," Vincent signed with one hand as he retreated down into the basement to kill the lights. The dark would give Lester good cover and let Bo get the chance to surprise the ones at the door. He slid the knives into their holsters at his sides and fiddled with the breakers, shutting down everything in the town.

Time to go hunting. He hurried down the tunnel towards the House of Wax.

...

Their mothers funeral had been beautiful. Her open casket funeral had the whole town of Ambrose visiting, lamenting the loss of their talented artist. Vincent spent the day squeezing Lester's hand while he cried, fresh out of high school and still their baby brother. Bo greeted people and was a sociable host. Vincent had only been back in town for two months before their mother passed and a part of him was relieved to be here for Lester. Neither he or Bo were bad brothers to Lester but he knew Bo wouldn't be there for their little brother's emotional needs. Losing both their father and now mother over the span of three years hit them all pretty hard.

Bo played the role of the sociable host, greeting people and accepting sympathetic words with a hollow, tired smile. He'd occasionally shoot glances at his brothers who stood off to the side against the wall and silently admired Vincent's ability to pretend to grieve. He knew Lester's sorrows were real but he and Vince had long since made peace with their mother's death long before she even died.

He also knew Vincent still resented him for dragging him home.

When the guests began to clear out, the twins took a moment to stand over their mother's casket. Bo still looked nice in his fitted suit. So did Vincent, although he'd discarded the jacket ages ago. For a while, neither of them said anything. They didn't have to. Call it twin intuition or whatever, they were able to have a silent conversation in a language only they knew. Quietly, Vincent slouched over to bump their shoulders together in a gentle display of affection before quickly righting himself, like he was worried they'd get in trouble if they were caught getting along.

"Yknow, Mama said she wanted to make a whole damn museum outta this town," Bo broke the silence with a wistful sigh. "Said Ambrose was becomin' a dead town and she wanted to make a Town 'a Wax. Then she got sick, because of course she did."

"Your point?" Vincent signed.

Bo turned to look at him properly. "Let's give her what she wanted, yeah? Least we can do for her. She taught you all her tricks 'n you'll be able to do art again." He grinned at Vincent like he'd come up with something great. "Think about it, Vinny. The Town of Wax, just like Mama wanted! We could finally make her proud."

Vincent shook his head quickly, fidgeting nervously with the ends of his hair. It was beginning to grow out more. He liked it long, despite their Pa insisting he keep it short. "She never taught me how to make full statues like she could. I'd need a base of some sort to make people. Otherwise it'll just be too much wasted wax, since they'd have to be filled figures. I just can't do hollow structures." His hands moved slowly so Bo could keep up. While, yes, their mother did hope for Vincent to take over for her one day, their lessons had been cut short when she got sick. Besides, Vincent had always preferred painting over sculpting.

But Bo had a point. Fulfilling her wishes would be nice.

"Shit, yeah," Bo said as he crossed his arms in thought. And then an idea came to him. Dark, twisted, and certainly coming from years of resentment towards the woman who lay dead before them. "You jus' need somethin' human-like, yeah?"

Vincent nodded once.

"I bet we got ourselves a perfectly good base sittin' right here."

Lester slipped out the back, shushing Jonesy to be quiet. Her growls were loud in the dark, silent space as he listened to the sounds of footsteps. He prided himself on being a damn good hunter so he guessed, based on the amount of steps, there were about four people sneaking around either side in hopes of scaling the fence. Excellent.

The fences were old wood that were certainly in need of replacement at this point. The only reason Jonesy didn't get out every day was because she simply wasn't aware of their weakness. Lester was momentarily grateful for the bushes that surrounded the fences because it let him know that the two on the left were hopping over.

He stood up from behind the wrought iron backyard table and fired.

...

The day their dad disappeared had been a lot of frantic energy and screaming. Lester had only been sixteen at the time and Bo and Vince had just turned twenty-one. Mama's condition was getting worse and worse every day, her pain so terrible she couldn't even move from bed anymore. Her vocal cords had been shredded from her screaming and their Pa kept dodging the boy's attempts to get him to fix it. Some doctor he was.

But Lester didn't mind it so much anymore. Going upstairs to visit Mama in bed had just become part of the routine now. Bo had gotten a job at the autoshop while Vincent was off in college. It was summer break so he'd come back home to help with household stuff that their father insisted was a woman's job. He never bothered to help. All he did was drink and disappear into his office to do nothing.

He wasn't stupid. Vincent and Bo weren't exactly quiet when they argued with their father about medical bills when they thought Lester couldn't hear them. He'd gotten a part time job cleaning roadkill to help pitch in but he knew it wasn't enough.

Their dad was already missing when they'd all woken up. They got the whole town to search the nearby forests, Bo took his truck around the back roads, and Lester searched with Vincent on foot. About an hour in, Bo showed back up at the house, ordering his brothers to get in the car. They'd just pulled out of the driveway when Vincent began questioning him with a flurry of hand movements. "Where is he? What did you find?"

"Vince, I can't look at you and drive."

"He asked where is he an' what ya found." Lester chimed in from the backseat, leaning forward to hover anxiously over the center console. He wanted a better view than the backseat windows.

Bo didn't answer and Lester felt his stomach sink.

Only a few miles from Ambrose, Lester spotted their fathers truck parked in a ditch and let out a quiet gasp. "Is that-?"

"Stay in the car, Les." Bo grunted as he and Vince got out of the truck.

"Fuck that!" He shot back, clambering out before Bo could lock the doors. "He's my dad too!"

Bo shared a look with Vincent and gave a resigned sigh. "Fine, whatever, keep up," he motioned for his brothers to follow. He led the way into the treeline, not even wincing when the stray twigs and branches sliced at his arms and legs..

After what felt like an eternity, they finally broke into the large, open field just past all the brush, Lester nearly took off running. Luckily, Vincent sensed that and grabbed him around the middle before he could get far.

Their father stood in the center of the field, one of his ornate pistols clenched tight in his fist and his head tilted up to stare at the sky. No one had thought to check the little glass case back home.

Everything happened in a rapid blur of chaos and terror from that point. Lester remembered Bo and their Pa getting into yet another screaming match while Vincent did his best to keep Lester from getting near the two. He'd clutched him to his chest and kept his back to Bo and their Pa, forcing Lester's face into the front of his sweater with a stern hold. He remembered protesting, wanting to go see their Pa and ask if he was okay. Vincent shook his head and held his head tighter.

Vincent's voice cracked and wheezed from disuse. "Don't look." He choked out with a cough.

The words sent a chill up Lester's spine and he clutched onto his older brother with as he tried to argue.

A deafening gunshot rang out in the open field and Lester shrieked in horror, fighting harder against Vincent's hold to try and see what happened. The heavy thud of a body ripped a sob from him and his brother's gentle shushing was doing nothing to soothe him. His ears were ringing and Bo was screaming but he didn't sound like he was hurt.

When he finally tore away from Vincent, his heart dropped to his stomach.

Their father lay in the grass, the green stained with bright red blood and brain matter. Bo was running a hand through his hair, tears streaming down his cheeks and blood splattering his face. How close had he been? Lester ran to him, narrowly dodging Vincent's attempts to hold him back.

Bo caught him this time, dragging him off and screaming at Lester to get back.

…

The intruder's screaming was quickly silenced as Jonesy began to tear at their necks. Lester whistled her to step back, not wanting to ruin Vincent's models too much. The other man always got so pissy whenever he had to play makeshift doctor to get them to a presentable state. A shot through the head was usually easy for him but all their running and screaming had him distracted. He cocked the gun with a heavy clunk and aimed at the other two on the right who were trying to run.

The gun fired again.

…

Lester stood in front of his father's grave clutching the antler of a deer. Blinking back tears, he let out a shaky breath. "Hey Pa," his voice a wet whisper when he finally managed to choke out words. "I, uh, talked with Bo 'n Vinny today. They, um, told me 'bout what life was like growin' up with you. How you used to stap Bo to a chair to get him to eat." He sniffed and wiped his eyes with his sleeves. "I used to look up to ya, y'know? Vincent always had Mama an' I know ya didn't like Bo much, so I," he swallowed back a whimper, "I tried to be your lil' guy, but…"

Tears began to fall as a sob wracked his body. "Damnit, why'd ya have to do Bo like that?! Thought he got the scars from fightin', not from you hurtin' him! Ain't no wonder he hated ya so much…"

Lester threw the antler at the gravestone, glaring through his tears as it cracked into pieces and fell to the dirt below. The sight only made Lester angrier, wishing he could've thrown something at his father before he became rot beneath wet soil. Maybe that would've taught him regret. Maybe. He didn't want to place bets on a losing horse.

"He wanted to save ya, y'know? Even in the end, he was beggin' ya not to do it." He grimaced at the memory, like the mere idea of saving their father now disgusted him. "Been a year now and I still… I still wish you loved us enough to stay. But we weren't good enough for ya, huh? Ain't never been, yeah?"

He fell to his knees in front of the grave, grabbing a piece of the antler and scratching at the stone, relishing in the way some pieces of the letters chipped off. Served him right. He didn't deserve to be remembered.

Pa said nothing in response and paid Lester no mind. Just like always.

…

Catching and killing the others had been painfully easy. In a matter of minutes, the three brothers had the bodies piled like wood in the basement, bullet holes in their heads steadily bleeding out. Whatever, Bo brushed it off, Vince'll clean it up later if it bothers him so much.

But one man stood apart from the rest. Very alive and tied to the chair with only a minor bump to the head. Just like he'd wanted.

"We got a lotta new faces for the museum," Lester called to Bo with a wide grin on his face. "'m still a damn good shot too."

"What will we do with him?" Vincent signed, ignoring Lester and gesturing to your ex.

Bo gave his brothers a dark smile. "Well, obviously, we can't keep 'im alive. But killin' 'im quickly is too kind."

Lester leant against the nearby work table like a child listening to something fascinating, his face resting on his hands that were propped up on his elbows. "Whaddya thinki' then?"

Before Bo could answer, they were interrupted by a soft groan of pain as your ex lifted his head to try and take in his surroundings. Lester wondered what it looked like to him - the walls covered in wax, the unbearable heat, the churning of the big machine that'd soon encase him in his own wax prison. He hoped the man was terrified. He deserved to be, after all he put you and the boys through.

"Where am I?" Your ex slurred out, trying to lift his head.

"Yer own personal hell." Bo said with an unkind smile. "Punishment for yer sins, I'd reckon."

"W-wha?" He mumbled, trying to think. The head injury was clearly making it difficult though.

Vincent grabbed his hair to tilt his head up for a better look. "Don't remember?" Bo spoke up again. "Pretty thing with two lil' tykes? Ain't ringin' a bell?"

His eyes widened and he swallowed. "You know 'em?" He stammered, glancing around the room. "They put you up to this? Listen, you don't know the whole story, they-"

"They're upstairs sleepin' without a care in the world. We're gonna make sure they get good dreams goin' forward, once you're dead." Lester loudly interrupted. "Vinny, feel like strappin' this guy up?"

Vincent pulled a knife out from his sheath and began to trace the underside of your ex's jaw with the point, like he was daydreaming about stabbing the knife through his tongue and up into his brain.

"Easy, Vinny," Bo said as though soothing an animal. "All in due time. Still got stuff to do, remember?"

"Stuff to- Stuff to do?" You ex stammered as fear finally made itself clear in his hazy mind.

Lester tilted his head with a sigh, sliding out of his seat to stand. "Y'know, he ain't very bright."

Bo shrugged. "Ain't our place to judge our guest's type. 'sides, ain't exactly like we're catches."

"Says you, 'm pretty as hell." Lester laughed, only increasing in volume when Bo smacked the hat off his head.

Vincent watched them with an exasperated eye roll before turning back to his new victim.

"Now, under normal circumstances, we'd let Vinny here do his thing," Bo said slowly as he began to search Vincent's assortment of tools, "But this here's a special occasion. We ain't take kindly to child abusers 'round here. So we're gonna give ya what's coming for ya 'fore you burn in hell."

Their prisoner began to fight against his bonds, shaking his head. "No, no, you don't get it, they tried to baby trap me! I never wanted kids, they forced me to-!"

Vincent didn't hold back the backhand he gave him, hissing under his breath at the stinging left behind.

"I'm gonna pretend I ain't just hear you lying to me," Bo said. The calm evenness of his voice never failed to unsettle his personal victims and he could tell your ex was squirming as his cheek began to blossom into a bruise. "If you're goin' to hell, you better go an honest man, yeah?"

Bo turned around, brandishing a pair of pliers and a wild, terrifying smile.

"Let's begin."

You jolted awake with a sharp gasp, covered in a thin layer of sweat that left you feeling sticky. Nightmares have become commonplace to you at this point. Your ex haunted your dreams, stealing away your boys or, god forbid, hurting them again… It never fails to leave you shaking and gasping for breath every time. Tonight, though, you'd dreamt of your ex and his friends showing up and your hosts throwing you out to the wolves, believing the sly, honey-sweet words of your abuser over your pleas.

The mere idea of that left you feeling sick and scared.

Despite that, a yawn escaped you as you shook your head as though to shake off the lingering fear of the nightmare. You gave a glance at the window and frowned at how dark it still was outside. The digital clock on your bedside revealed it was barely past 3am. God, it felt so much later than that.

You turned to look over at your boys, fast asleep in the little blanket and pillow cocoon you'd made them to sleep in so they could be on the bed. The blue night light cast dark shadows on their face and you stared at them until your eyes burned from lack of blinking. They were so soft and fragile, your heart divided in two just for these two boys. You'd burn the world down to keep them safe.

You pressed soft kisses to both their foreheads and slid carefully out of bed. The room was exactly as you left it, dark and only illuminated by a little star night light that must've once been Lester's. It was cute, you smiled to yourself. The blue walls were covered in posters for bands you didn't recognize and a few well-known horror films. He also had a small, ornate frame of pinned butterflies over the door. It suited him, the longer you thought about it.

Quietly, you opened the door and crept out into the hallway. The twins' bedroom doors were closed and you sighed internally that they were asleep. That meant you likely hadn't cried out when you awoke.

The stairs creaked and groaned as you slunk downstairs, wincing at every noise you made. In such a quiet space, the sounds were deafening.

"Y'alright?" A tired, low voice spoke up.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard Lester talk. You'd forgotten he was set up downstairs and all the noise must've woken him up. You couldn't see him in the dark but you shot a smile in the direction of the couch anyways. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

"Nah," Lester sighed as though stretching, "Can't sleep, 'sall." And, with a soft click, he turned on the nearby lamp. Warm yellow light bathed the downstairs, dark shadows reminiscent of the ones on your boy's faces, you thought to yourself as you looked at Lester.

"I could make us tea." You hugged yourself to try and fight off that usual nighttime chill. "Might help us both sleep."

Lester gave you a nod and smiled shyly. "Yeah, yeah, sounds great Sweetpea."

When you disappeared into the kitchen, he let out the breath he'd been holding. Quietly, he grabbed his sheathed knife that he'd left on the table and hid it under the couch as he stood up to follow you. The kitchen was still dim, even with the light of the lamp stretching out into the quiet space.

"What's got you awake?" He whispered while creeping up behind you. "Kids causin' a fuss?"

You let out a sigh while rooting around for a couple of mugs. "No, no, just… Nightmares."

Lester frowned even though you couldn't see it. "What kind?"

"Bad ones," you said while pouring some water into the two mugs and glancing around for the microwave. "Ones where he comes and hurts me or the kids. Or ones where people throw me back to him despite my pleas not to."

"I'd kick his ass for ya, y'know that right?" Lester said, his voice much closer now.

You finally looked over your shoulder and you couldn't help the butterflies his words gave you. "Yeah," your voice was quiet and you loved the way he seemed to soften. "Yeah, I know you would."

"'m serious. My brothers would too. We ain't gonna let him getcha here, promise." He seemed insistent, which raised a concern for you. You got the feeling something had happened that you weren't aware of yet.

But anxiety suffocated you. "Did, um," you swallowed anxiously as you turned back around to drum your fingers anxiously on the edge of the kitchen sink, "Did he… come by?"

A beat of silence. It felt like it went on for hours when it was only a short minute, yet you felt suffocated all the same. "No." Lester said slowly, as though trying to choose his words carefully. "No, he ain't been here."

You didn't believe him.

Then you were presented with a choice. Play it cool or freak out. Neither of which were great options but you liked your odds better if you just played nice and pretended to believe him. All you had to do was play along until the fan belt Bo ordered for you arrived and then you could leave.

If your ex wasn't here in the house then that meant he was somewhere nearby. But, based on Lester's tone, he knew where he was and wasn't telling you. That didn't sit well in your stomach but you swallowed it down and nodded. "Okay. Good."

So the two of you sat against the counters drinking tea in the dark. He happily made small talk while you nodded and listened to the trials and tributes that came with being a roadkill cleaner.

He'd been in the middle of telling you a story about a fawn with a broken leg when the basement door swung open with a heavy thud. You nearly jumped out of your skin as you shrieked, staring at the shape moving in the beacon that was the yellow basement lights.

Vincent froze in place, staring at you through the eye holes of his mask. One of his hands was wrapped crudely in a bandage and the other held a pointed carving knife. On instinct, you ducked behind Lester while peering over his shoulder at the other man, watching Vince tilt his head almost comically.

"He says he's sorry for scarin' ya." Lester said with a chuckle. "Y'alright?"

"Sorry," you sighed, bumping your forehead in the space between his shoulder blades. "Just… high strung, I guess."

Lester hummed. "Can't imagine what you've been through. I promise, things'll be easier for ya from now on."

You couldn't help but feel that as an omen of some kind. Though you weren't sure if it was good or bad.

The next time you woke up, it was morning. Sunlight peered through the blinds and hit you in the eyes, making you wince as you yawned. It felt later than you usually slept in and it struck you that no one had woken you up wanting breakfast or attention.

Realizing the boys weren't with you, you shot up from the bed and took off downstairs. All you could focus on was your pounding heart and desperate need to find your boys.

You came to a halt when you heard laughter and voices. When you stepped off the stairs, you went straight for the kitchen and sighed with relief.

Peter and Mikey were playing at the table while Lester was making breakfast in the kitchen. Vincent had Peter in his lap who was coloring with crayons at the kitchen table while Bo sat with Mikey and helped him in lining up his dinosaur toys in front of the couch.

For the past few years since the boys came into your lives, your ex had outright refused on multiple occasions to bond with them. Peter and Mikey had learnt quickly that, when their father was around, they had to be silent and obedient.

So seeing them openly playing and laughing made you feel dizzy. While he was nowhere near, you still worried that your ex was going to round the corner and slap Mikey for getting his toys everywhere or yell at Peter for being too loud.

It felt like a weight had been lifted at the sight of them being happy.

Peter saw you and practically leapt off Vincent's lap and ran over to show you his drawings. "Dinosaurs!" He beamed up at you with pride and you could definitely tell where Vincent had done rough outlines to let him color in. The gesture was sweet and you couldn't help but smile.

"They're very nice!" You cooed as you gave Peter a kiss on the cheek.

"Breakfast'll be ready soon!" Lester called out over the sound of sizzling bacon. "Wash your hands, I ain't lettin' y'all get sick. Lord knows where Bo's been." He teased and grinned over his shoulder at his brothers. He softened when he saw you but quickly resumed cooking.

You let the twins pair off to wash up and joined Lester in the kitchen instead. "Didn't take ya for the cooking type."

Lester gave a little chuckle. "What, ya think 'cuz I clean streets, I can't cook? Mama taught me how, said it'd be good for me to learn so I ain't dependin' on her forever. Said I ain't allowed to get married to some girl 'n rely on her for everythin'."

"She sounds like a great mom." You said wistfully, approaching Lester slowly to watch him work. Eggs, bacon, pancakes beginning to stack up…

"Nah," Bo's voice from behind surprised you. Peter was in his arms, head slumped against Bo's shoulder as he stared ahead at nothing. "She wasn't all that great."

Lester didn't say anything to that.

You decided not to bring it up at breakfast.

"Store's jus' down the corner, can't miss it." Bo said, not even looking up from the television. He and Lester were watching a game when you'd offered to go get groceries as a thanks for them housing you and making you food.

They'd protested but, eventually, Vincent had suggested he go with. You hadn't liked the look they all shared but you didn't have time to dwell on it, too focused on trying to get Peter to stand still long enough to put his shoes on.

When you, Vincent, and the boys ventured outside, you were struck at how empty the town felt.

Even for a small town, you expected to see at least a few people walking around, right?

But everything felt deserted as you followed Vincent down the sidewalk towards the little general store. The boys stayed close, alternating between holding yours and each other's hands as you walked. Things got stranger and stranger the more you walked - street lights didn't work, there was no sound coming from any of the houses, and you swear that a woman across the street has peeked over at you twice in the past few seconds…

"Hey, Vincent?" You asked slowly, coming to a stop a good few feet away. Something was very, very wrong about this place and it was becoming more difficult to ignore. "What's… what's going on?"

He looked over his shoulder at you before tilting his head. You wished you had a way to communicate better but your sign language was rusty at best and his hands moved too quick for you to follow clearly.

You felt multiple pairs of eyes on you and you couldn't help but whip your head around before your eyes caught on the display case beside you. A few figures stood displaying different outfits outside what seemed to be a clothes store. You grimaced, never really being a fan of mannequins, and were about to turn away when you realized one of them looked distinctly like your ex, down to the terrible haircut and all.

Fear clogged your throat and you forced yourself to swallow yet again that day. It was a coincidence, surely, but it still deeply unsettled you. The boys were trying to hurry after Vincent but your grip was a vice around their little hands. "Vincent, I think I want to go ba-"

The figure's eyes darted down to meet yours.

You felt a scream in the back of your throat but all you could let out was a gasp. Stumbling backwards, you scooped up both kids in your arms as you tried to put distance between yourself and the figure. It didn't move - he didn't move - and that only made you feel sicker and sicker. "Vincent!" You shrieked, training your eyes on him where he stood unmoving. "What is this?!"

He stepped towards you, hands held up to placate you, and you felt all sense of fear begin to melt into relief as Vincent got closer. The tears of horror mixed with relief when he hugged you.

Your ex was dead. But you felt like this was just a new type of prison…

#🔪 creeps writes #slasher fanfiction #slasher x reader #slasher x s/o #house of wax #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x y/n #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x y/n #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x y/n #tired of running

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qwimblenorrisstan · 3 months ago

Text

Lesson Learnt Pt. 2 | John Price x Reader

Summary: After the initial incident that caused your meeting, Johnny sets you and Price up on a date at a little diner nearby.

Word Count: ~ 2.5k

Warnings: can’t say much w/o spoilers but random men, ghost being moody, Johnny being overly friendly, working in customer service…

A/N: idk what happened something possessed me when I made this, it was supposed to be fluff but then it exploded. hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist

Weeks had passed after the initial incident, and your life had quickly changed.

You’d broken up with your toxic boyfriend, now wondering how you hadn’t seen it earlier, and why you hadn’t listened to all your friend's advice and thoughts on him. You’d moved out, blocked him on everything, and found a new apartment closer to your simple job as a barista. It was enough to keep the bills paid, for now. At least until you finally got out of college with your doctorate in nursing science.

Having been in college for nearly eight years now, and not living in the dorm (there were far too many incidents on campus for you to trust any sort of campus police, not to mention the generally shady system of coverups) made it a little bit harder.

Student loans were threatening to suffocate you, but for now, you would focus on one day to the next. All of this, the annoying days that drug on, or the hard times, would all be memories before you knew it, and it would be worth it. Or at least you hoped.

Today wasn’t one of those super slow-moving days where customers were ordering hyper-specific drinks or getting the suspiciously old lemon cakes, only to complain about how stale they were, as if you could do anything about it. No, today was relatively normal, customers minding their own business after ordering, coworkers having idle chatter.

“M’ taking my lunch break.”

You said to your close coworker, Laney. Her honey-brown eyes shifted over to you, and she nodded with a little smile.

“Don’t take too long, might miss some cute boys.”

She teased, knowing full well all of your opinions on relationships right now. You wanted to wait until you had a stable income and were out of school. She’d heard it only about a million times. You huffed a soft laugh, deft fingers untying the knot in your apron as you set it up on a hook, walking out to your car.

Lunch break was about 30 minutes, which was more than enough for you to drive to the nearest cheap restaurant and pick something up. Clicking your key button and heading towards where you heard the beep of your car, you opened the door, sliding into the worn leather. It wasn’t a new car, not by a long shot, but it was your old faithful, and it had served you well for nearly ten years in a row.

You started the car, muscle memory kicking in as you drove to that place right down the road from your work. It was past the chicken shop, a place you would refrain from visiting for a while after seeing some undercover cops staking out there one night.

You turned and pulled into the parking lot, glancing around before opening your door, only for the cold air to nip at your bare arms, when you decided to slip on the warm leathery jacket, with the fur on the inside. The one that the man, John, maybe, had given you. You’d lost the piece of paper with their numbers on it to the washing machine, but oh well. He didn’t look like the type to live around here, anyway, so it wasn’t like you were going to see him again.

Walking into the restaurant, you strode to the front, placing a quick little order and paying with your card, before choosing a small circular table in the corner to wait for your food. This place was usually quick. You idly scanned the guests. Two large men sitting together, chatting. An older woman and what was probably her husband seated with a younger man and woman. Maybe some sort of family double date? A nervous-looking teenager sitting alone, knee bouncing. An old, thin man seated at the far end, mumbling incoherently to himself.

Not unusual.

You pulled your phone out, idly scrolling through social media before your name was called, and you got up to go collect your food.

“You sure?”

“M’ tellin’ ya, it’s exactly what Gaz said she looked like.”

Simon glanced out at the girl his sergeant seemed so certain about. He wouldn’t lie, you did match the description pretty decently. Just as he opened his mouth to point anything out that fought against Johnny’s claim (just to spite him, obviously, not because he liked watching Soap get all frustrated and start rambling on for an hour on end), he noticed it.

“She’s wearin’ cap’s jacket.”

Johnny’s brows rose as he snuck another glance at you. You grabbed your tray of food, walking back to the small little corner where your bag was on the seat. You were wearing their captain’s jacket. The brown leather, the slight fuzz in the sides and insides, the buttoned pockets….he wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it earlier.

“Hell’s bells, been wonderin’ where that thing went.”

Simon only gave a little grunt in reply, eyes narrowed on you before he glanced back at his food. He didn’t want to seem a creep. He already knew he was intimidating enough to the normal civilian, and one of his “I-want-to-eat-your-firstborn-child” glares (named by Johnny and Kyle) probably wasn’t helping.

“Sounds like Price’s found ‘imself a pretty birdie.”

Johnny lit up at those words, a devilish grin lighting his features, one that Simon usually only saw before he demolished buildings or people with explosives. He was already dreading it before it came out of his mouth.

“We shoul’ set ‘em up on a date.”

“No.”

“Don’ tell me it wouldn’ be a good idea. Might keep him from giving us so many sprints at training, yeah? Ya know he’s been overworkin’ us lately…”

The slight pause Simon took was all Soap needed to continue spewing his disarming, convincing words that usually always worked on his Lieutenant. His lips further curled into a grin as he went on.

“He’s been so tense lately, jus’ let us do this for ‘im, help him relax some…”

“Fine. Get on wit’ it.”

Simon finally relented, suddenly finding his food very interesting to look at as Johnny got up, striding over to you with a confidence one could only expect from the Scotsman.

He glanced up, trying to subtly watch as his sergeant approached you. You were on a call with someone, the phone held up to your ear by your shoulder while you ate your fries, the main entree of your order already gone. When Johnny walked up, you immediately sized him up.

Paranoid. Simon didn’t blame you, living on this end of town. The only reason he and the guys stayed here was for the cheap flats they could get when on leave for a few months. Price had a little house more up South, but never visited it much, letting it gather some dust.

You took the phone from your ear, muttering something to whoever was on the other end, and hanging up. You raised a brow at Johnny, who in turn gestured to your jacket and struck up a conversation. Johnny was trying to look unthreatening, he could tell. Sitting down so he wasn’t standing over you. A small, easygoing smile. Trying to make you laugh, and succeeding a bit.

Five minutes in, and you were seeming more comfortable with him. He wrote something down on a napkin from your table with a pen in his pocket, handing it to you, giving a teasing wink which you snorted at, and walking back over to his and Simon’s table with a huge smile.

“Wha’ did you just do?”

Simon asked, suspiciously eying Soap.

“I set our cap’ up with a date.”

He beamed, and Simon only sighed, knowing that Price wouldn’t take it too well to be sent on a date with a girl he’d only just met a few weeks ago. A girl that hadn’t texted him since. But maybe, just maybe, it would go decently.

That had been one of the strangest encounters in your life.

A Scottish man introduces himself as a friend of Price’s, saying something about working together at their jobs and telling you he recognized the jacket you were wearing. So much for not ever seeing John Price again, considering his friend had just set the two of you up, and given you the man’s number too. All the while the gruff-looking man had sat at Johnny’s table, watching the interaction.

It had made you more than a little nervous, but nothing had gone bad. The Scotsman had been friendly, and even funny, but not pushing too far.

And now you had a date on Friday night.

When you got back to work, off of lunch break, Laney helped you into your apron, tying the knot for you like she always did.

“You’re late, what took so long?”

She knew you weren’t usually ever late. Always on time, punctual, even. You managed your time properly.

“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

She grinned at that, nudging you with an elbow as you started taking orders.

“C’mon, spill it.”

And you did.

You began with the incident a few weeks ago, which she’d mostly already heard about, then told her all about the Scotsman and his friend, and finally the date on Friday. Right when you were about to finish the story, you felt your phone buzz, and you took it out to check it despite usually keeping it on Do Not Disturb. A text from an unknown number, but you knew who it was.

“Sorry for my muppets bothering you, they don’t know how to keep their mouths shut.”

You snorted in undignified laughter, replying while an older customer complained, mumbling something about ‘this generation and their phones’.

“I’m assuming you’re talking about Johnny?”

“Yes, the one that barely talks in coherent English.”

“Aw, he was funny. I liked him.”

“Don’t go liking him too much. We apparently have a date on Friday.”

“I’ll see you there, then?”

“See you there.”

You finally silenced your phone, slipping it back into your pocket as you went back to work with a noticeable pep in your step and a warm, fuzzy smile you offered to customers.

Laney certainly noticed.

When your shift was over, ending quickly, she talked to you while walking out to the parking lot through the back exit.

“I can help you get ready for the date, if you want?”

She offered. You’d be stupid to deny, with the impeccable makeup and fashion sense that she had.

“Sure, I can swing by at 3. That’ll give you plenty of time.”

“You have any shifts the rest of the week?”

“Barely. Just little half-times I squeezed in between lecturers. Last year’s always the busiest.”

“See you Friday, then.”

You beamed at her, sliding into your car as she walked to your own.

“See you Friday.”

Some of the days passed in a blur, some dragged on slower than ever before.

Eventually, though, Friday rolled around, and you were sitting in your friend’s chair as she did your hair, your makeup light, but good. You were wearing a simple outfit, some clean jeans, and a cute brown sweater over your white shirt.

It was 4:30, and you had only thirty minutes to haul your ass out to the nice diner the both of you were meeting at for dinner.

“It’s fine, I need to go. Seriously.”

Laney gave you a look, but reluctantly started putting all her things away. You hugged her, mumbling thanks in her ear, before grabbing your purse that had all of your things in it and walking to the exit of her quaint home.

You drive to the diner, finding the parking lot to have the familiar old car you’d seen Price driving in the first place. You parked got out of the car, and walked into the diner, only for the server up front to inform you that you’d already been paid for, and she led you to a table where Price was seated.

He’d tried to dress nicely, you could tell. Beard combed and hair done, dressed in jeans and a comfortable-looking dress shirt. He gave you a small smile as you slid into the booth, and there was already a tray of crinkle-cut fries in the center.

“Hope you didn’ mind that I ordered, big fella like me needs a lotta food.”

He said with a chuckle, and you grinned.

“I don’t mind, trust me, my older brother devours food like no other.”

He smiled, a little bob of his head before his brow raised in mild curiosity.

“You got a brother?”

A nod.

“Yeah, name’s Gary. He’s quiet, but we love ‘im for it.”

“Me and the boys are just about brothers, wish they’d be quiet for once.”

You snorted at that, taking a sip of your water before the waitress came by and you ordered your meal. Price’s was the first to come out, he’d ordered a full English breakfast that the diner somehow served, despite it being around dinner time. Yours came out next, and you both idly chattered about your life, family, jobs (he was apparently military and off on leave right now, not that you minded), and whatnot.

When he was about more than halfway through his food, his phone began buzzing, and his face went serious as he held a small finger up to you with a slightly apologetic expression, taking the phone call.

He listened, and you simply continued eating your food, not minding. Everyone had to take important calls every now and then, sometimes it just wasn’t avoidable.

He gave a few gruff yes’ and no’s, before sighing as he replied for one last time into the phone.

“I’ll be right there.”

When he clicked off the call, shoving his phone into his pocket, he gave an apologetic look.

“It’s an emergency, can’t stay. ‘M sorry.”

You nodded in understanding.

“Is everything alright?”

You asked, and he nodded, face set in what looked like a grim determination. He called a waitress over, paying the bill before you both got up. He gave you a light pat on the shoulder as you both walked out, right before you went to your car.

“We could do this again, if you’d like. With no interruptions.”

“I’d like that.”

He breathed an audible sigh of relief at that.

“I’ll text you when I can.”

Before he began walking to his car, getting in. You walked to yours, opened up the driver’s side door, and slid in before you saw his jacket sitting on the passenger seat. Cursing to yourself, you grabbed it, having it in mind to go take it to him before he left.

Before you could move, though, a hand clasped over your mouth.

A cold prick of pain in the back of your neck. Liquid.

“Don’t scream.”

A voice warned as if you could make any noise at all with a hand over your mouth.

An overwhelming sense of heaviness overtook you, and your vision began swimming, before turning black as your eyes fluttered closed.

“What’re we getting ‘er for?”

“Bargaining chip.”

Tags:

@yearninglustfully

@ashy-kit

@theoslove

@mayoforthewin

#writers on tumblr #cod fanfic #cod mwii #john price x reader #captian price #captain john price #captain price #price x reader

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natailiatulls07 · 7 months ago

Text

Lando Norris x Female!reader

Summary - She's a workaholic, he just wants to help but she won't listen

Warning - Reader working herself raw, angst but fluff ending

A/n - I'm trying to answer all your requests, I promise, but I've been struggling alot with my mental health and college recently so please be patient 🫶🏻

She was at it again. Every once in a while Y/n would work herself to the bone with her work, her fitness, etc. Every time there was a routine to it - An unhealthy and tiring routine. It was just something she’d do and no one knew how to pull her out of that routine. Well one person did and over time he learnt how to pull her out of it - Her own best friend.

Each time he’d collected her up into his arms, away from her desk and through the hall to her plush and abandoned couch. Lando would wrap himself around her, shielding her from the world and he would help her relax. That man was her safe space. Every single time.

“I hate when you do this to yourself” He mumbles. His green eyes flicker down to her, seeing her shoulder so tense pains him really.

A small and sarcastic chuckle escapes her lips. They had this conversation before and it’s becoming repetitive now - maybe she should listen to him sometime soon. “Mmh I know” Y/n mumbles into his firm chest, she can feel his calloused hand stroking her hair. The formula one driver lets out a heavy sigh, much like the female on his chest he also knows the common conversation between the two.

A frown tugs on the ends of her lips as Y/n pulls her head away from his chest. “I need to get back to work…” She mumbles, actively avoiding eye contact and moving to stand up from her couch.

Immediately Lando can see how tense and rigid she is again - It was hard not to notice it. “No no, you need rest” He urges, his British accent is soft and worried. “You’re wearing yourself out, Y/n. Please just listen to me, I don’t want to see you hurt” Although it felt like he was controlling her, the man just really didn’t like seeing like this.

Shaking her head rapidly, Y/n struggled to tug her hands away from his. Having taken her hands in his, Lando did this to slow her and to calm her. “Lando please, I need to work…” It was getting heated now.

There was a look of concern behind his eyes. “Y/n, you need to rest.” He wasn’t about to let her walk right back into her death. “You are not going to work. All you’ve done is work yourself to the ground. Y/n do you even hear me right now?”

“No! It’s okay Lando…” She’s pleading with him now - not understanding the damage she was doing to herself.

Lando continues to grip onto her wrists, he was determined to get his best friend to take a deserved break. “Y/n, it’s far from okay!” His voice held conviction. “A break is what you need, this cycle you’ve put your body through will eventually lead you to breaking down and we both know that it’s unhealthy!” Unknowingly tears began to form in the white of his eyes the more she resisted.

“Get out.” Silence followed the two words. Never did they fight nor did Y/n ever raise her voice. “You need to get out of my apartment. Now.” There’s no room for discussion.

His jaw falls and he’s in total shock. “What?” The driver breathes out. The grip on Y/n’s wrists loosens and falls. Having been nothing but supportive and kind, he felt betrayed. And then he shook his head - completely refusing to leave even when practically ordered to.

“You need to get out of my apartment. Get out now!” There’s venom behind her voice as she shouts.

“No!” The two are in a shouting match by now. Lando could feel his frustration boiling and his temper becoming untethered. “I’m not leaving you like this. You need to see that rest is needed. You’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t” His fists clenched. All the formula one driver wanted to do was to help - not hurt her.

Y/n sighs, realising that he won’t listen to her. “Fine. You can stay but don’t think you can stop me from working…” She narrows her eyes, pointing a finger towards the British man opposite her. “Unlike you, Lando Norris, some of us have to work our ass’ off every single day to just live!”

Maybe she was right, maybe he was being selfish. But Y/n was killing herself with every coming day, anyone could see it. All Lando could do was sigh and nod his head. At least she was allowing him to stay, this way he could help.

“Thank you…”

It had been two hours since Lando had seen Y/n. She had left him to settle herself in her office, back to the non stop typing. He was getting anxious and worried now.

Pausing the film he was watching, the driver moved from the couch and down the bright hall to her office. Listening from outside, he hadn’t heard anything. And when he slowly opened the door, there she was asleep.

She looked so peaceful and relaxed. The corners of Landos lips curved into a smile. He really did love her and to see her finally at ease made him happy.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed…” He whispered, wrapping his arms around her before picking her up and carrying her to bed. Lando made his way out of the office and down the hall again to her bedroom.

As he was trying to open the door, Y/n started to stir. “Lando…?” Her voice filled with confusion and tiredness. Opening her eyes, the woman looked up at him to see his growing goatee and loveable smile.

“Shh…go back to sleep sweetheart…” His voice was soft and gentle. Y/n felt like a princess right now as she slowly closed her eyes and fell back into a delicate slumber. “I love you so much…” Lando whispered as he lowered her down onto the plush bed - she didn’t hear him, he could only wish she did.

#formula one #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren #formula one x y/n #f1 x y/n

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simpxxstan · 5 months ago

Text

best friend's older brother vernon

this is part of my 550 followers celebration event! find the rest of the members' headcanons in the event too as i post them through this month!

warnings: mention of cheating (not vernon or reader)

thinking about best friend's older brother!vernon who is two years older to you, but doesn't feel older at all

he may have lived in the world for two years more than you or your best friend, but you don't see where the years except the fact that he's taller than you

it's clear that vernon needs someone to take care of him. someone to show him which stop to get off at on the subway. someone who feeds him snacks when he's skipped lunch because he was too busy riding his bicycle. someone to push his hair back and make him wear a beanie when he's long due for a haircut. someone to remind him to take a certain book to class because he's bound to forget.

and mindlessly, unconsciously, you've taken up that role. of course, his sister and his family members are there, but you get involved too. partly because you spend so much time with his sister, but also because you like doing this. somehow, seven-year-old you felt very grown up taking care of a boy, so you go with the flow, and even after eleven years, the habits have stuck.

thinking about best friend's older brother!vernon who introduces you to his relatives as his 'girlfriend'

ten year old vernon learnt the day before that a girlfriend is a female friend you want to marry. hence, he finds no problem in introducing you to everyone as his girlfriend. consequently, he absolutely does not understand why you smack him on the back and go all red and pouty, and everyone in the room begins laughing at him. he didn't say anything wrong, did he?

"why do you want to marry her, vernon-ah?" his mother asks him later. "because she's the nicest girl i've ever met. and she knows everything about me, and i know everything about her." his mother laughs, "that is quite true. well, you can't go about calling anyone your girlfriend, okay? it's only something you can do later, when you're older, and the girl also agrees to being your girlfriend." "why can't i do it now if y/n agrees to it?" "because that's how it is, nonie."

vernon doesn't understand why it is like that, but he lets that occasion. it doesn't mean that the joke doesn't persist. and even at the age of twenty, when you meet his relatives at his birthday party, they all call you his girlfriend.

of course, vernon understands what it really means now, and he also realises his mistake back then. even you don't mind the joke anymore, and just go with it. but it's wrong- he should correct everyone and put an end to it. and yet, he doesn't. does he, maybe, like people referring to you as his girlfriend?

thinking about best friend's older brother!vernon who grows up to be a fine specimen of the male sex

and you, along with everyone else in the neighbourhood, are awed by his curly hair and chiselled features. he doesn't let everyone get close to him, owing to his shy nature, but you're fortunate enough to still remain in his closest circle, even after he graduates from school and joins a music production course in college. the age gap between the two of you feels lesser and lesser as you both grow up.

when you join the same college as him, he becomes your guardian angel in college. from giving you tours in the college to getting you involved with societies and the joys of dorm life, the two of you are again always together. except, his sister enrolled in a different university so unfortunately, you have to bear a long-distance friendship now. it is a comfort, still, that vernon is right here.

the roles are slightly reversed now. although vernon's still lost in daily life- losing track of time and place often and hoping for your guidance- he takes a more proactive role in supporting you in other, important matters.

like how he drives you to the interview of your first internship. you leave the office crying, and he pulls you into a hug. two weeks later, when you receive an acceptance offer letter, he hugs you close again. "i had said so," he tells you when he buys you ice cream as a treat.

like how he ensures you get in touch with the top seniors from your major so that you can prepare your notes well. "how do you even know him?" you ask him after he introduces you to one such senior. "oh, i see him around." "is he your friend?" "no, but he's not not my friend either."

thinking about best friend's older brother!vernon who also sees you fall in love for the first time in college

it's with a senior he introduced you to, youngjae, and he regrets the decision completely. he had introduced you to him because of his academic merit, but beyond that, he knew youngjae was up to no good. a playboy through and through- he would break your heart the second the chase dies out.

he ends up spending lesser and lesser time with you these days because of how you go everywhere with your new crush now. "has he asked you out yet?" vernon raises a brow at you when the two of you meet again in front of the dorms. "not yet," the blush is clear on your cheeks, as your eyes lit up. "but i'm sure youngjae will, soon! we've been texting a lot, nonie. i must thank you for introducing him to me, of course." you giggle, but vernon's face doesn't reflect your happiness. he's still confused about how to feel about this entire affair.

rationally, he should not be confused. this is protectiveness he feels. he felt the same way towards his sister when she started dating her current partner. it's worse in this case because he knows your heart will be broken. so it's just his instinct that's making him more protective.

but it's not just protectiveness, he knows. he knows it when you're going to parties with youngjae on your arm. he knows it when you laugh too loudly at any of youngjae's stupid jokes. he knows it when people start referring to you as youngjae's girlfriend.

thinking about best friend's older brother!vernon who is the person you run to when you find out that youngjae has been sleeping with someone else all this time

vernon doesn't ask or say anything. he simply sighs when he sees the tears streaming down your face, and pulls you into a bone-crushing hug against his chest. and he lets you cry into his sweater, all snot and wetness.

but it's the best thing he could do for you, and you wouldn't trade this for anything else. you know he understands in the silence, and you don't leave his side all night, as he plays soft jazz on his phone and you both sit on the bed in his dorm room in silence. his roommate also surprisingly doesn't question it, the two of you sharing earphones and sitting on the bed without saying anything, all night.

the next morning, you finally come to terms with your grief, having overcome the shock, and tell vernon everything. thankfully, he doesn't say, i knew it. he only says, "he never deserved you anyway. such a fool."

when you go to the cafeteria for lunch, as both your and vernon's classes start after lunch that day, vernon's hand is around your shoulders. every person in the cafeteria turns to look at the two of you, even youngjae. he steps up to you to talk to you, but you don't even look at him and walk straight past him. the two of you finally reach a table where your friends are sitting, who you'd texted earlier about the situation. they all sympathise with you, consoling you and genuinely making you feel better. but the best medicine is the weight of vernon's warm hand on your back throughout lunch time.

soon the entire college gets to know about the situation. it's comforting to know that no one's standing up in defense of youngjae and everyone's isolating him for his shameless actions. when vernon walks you to your classroom after lunch, youngjae confronts you again, forcefully making you stop in your way. when he sees that his pleas and apologies aren't melting you in any way, his eyes flare up with rage, and he looks to vernon instead.

"and what the hell are you doing? why are you walking around with her like that?"

"because she's my girlfriend, that's why."

thinking about best friend's older brother!vernon who takes everyone by shock by his declaration

of course, this new addition to the ongoing situation spreads like wildfire through all students also. and it has the same effect it has on them as it does on you. vernon almost laughs at the way your cheeks flare up and your lips purse into a pout. it's hauntingly similar to the incident eleven years ago, except vernon knows he's not saying it without understanding this time.

"what was that for?" you ask him later. "i had to do it. you know he would beg you to come back if i'd moved away." "well, i would be strong and resist him." vernon's glare makes your words falter. "are you sure?" "vern-" "okay just play along with it for a few days. will help you forget him faster."

you spend that night thinking about the events of the day, and you finally realise that the burning sensation in your chest is not sadness. that seems to have run out totally after your crying session with vernon last night. then what is this feeling?

you don't get time to yourself the next few days- when everyone's bombarding you with where when and how you and vernon got together. "it- it just happened," is what you say. and vernon doesn't clarify it either- so it just goes along.

and everyone actually accepts it immediately. no one gives it a second thought, no one needs a longer explanation. "oh we kinda saw it coming," one of your friends say. well, you certainly did NOT see it coming.

apparently, him playing along with it means he has his hands constantly on you, either looped through your arm, or a touch at the small of your back, or his fingers weaving through your hair. it also means him spending every moment outside class with you. soon, he becomes a permanent feature in your friend group, and your and his friends merge to become a big group sitting together at lunch, and creating an endless cacophony.

thinking about best friend's older brother!vernon who tells you that you can end this play-acting after a few weeks and the initial gossip has died down

but every weekend, his heart thumps in his chest as he anticipates when you'll tell him that you want to end the ruse now finally and you're sick of him. he knows he's putting on a very bold face in front of you, but inside? god, he's all nervous putty. he knows he's taking big risks- risks which are more likely to not pay off than actually succeed. but he can't not take the chance when it's right in front of him.

for these fifteen days, vernon lives his dream into reality. before this, he had no idea it would make him so happy to be your boyfriend. even if it's a fake relationship. is this what he's been yearning for all these months when he's seen you going around with another man? is this why he detests youngjae even more than he deserves for his faults?

he doesn't want to think too much about why he's so enthusiastic about doing this. he doesn't want to understand why his heart is fluttering all the time and he's losing focus on everything- even things he's usually very concentrated in, like music or films. he doesn't want to think of why his heart is thumping in his chest whenever the weekend comes around.

thinking about best friend's older brother!vernon who invites you over for movie night to his dorm on sunday

"you'll break up with him now." you tell yourself, looking into the mirror, even as your body moves with a mind of its own. you're wearing a silk dress that's completely not appropriate for a friendly movie night. you're even tying up your hair in a ponytail because vernon once said that hairstyle looks good on you.

"you will draw it to an end for your own good." that's what you tell yourself, but what is your own good? kinda blurry at the moment, because a big part of you doesn't want to let go of vernon. you know that ending things today will have an impact on your closeness- but you can't figure out why it is that you're so worried about letting go of vernon. is it because you don't want to lose a friend, or is it because you've found your ideal man in him?

because one thing you can't lie to even yourself is how perfect vernon would be, hypothetically, as a boyfriend, especially to you. he knows everything about you- your coffee order so that he always knows what to bring from the cafeteria, your menstrual cycle so that he can remind you to buy pads when your week's due, your workout routine so that he knows exactly where to massage that night while the two of you chill.

he's everything youngjae could never dream of being. you're in fact glad youngjae did cheat on you. you've been so blind for stooping down so low when you have had a perfect man around you for all your life. and yet, you don't know if these feelings are just the butterflies from his attention through this make-believe relationship, or whether you've really lost your heart to him. and in fear that it's the second, in which case you're going to regret the steps you plan to take tonight, you make haste to vernon's dorm room to tell him to break up.

"you will tell him to end this right now." you tell yourself when you knock on his door. but when he opens the door wearing his old, ratted t-shirt that you've seen him wear since high school, his hair messy over his forehead, and his pink lips plump, you forget all about breaking up and instead just go in with him, taking his hand as he helps you sit down on his dorm bed and sets up the movie on his laptop. when he gets under the blanket, his body unimaginably close to yours, the exposed skin of your legs graze against his hands and you can see the way he gulps.

"you have to tell him now, y/n!" your brain screams to you, so you blurt out. "vernon, i have something to tell you." vernon moves his hand away from you and sits up. "me too. but you go first." he doesn't break eye contact, and you can see the way he's biting his lip and fidgeting with his hands. symptoms of nervousness, you recall from your psych class. why is he nervous? "no, you go first, nonie."

he raises his eyebrows for confirmation and you nod. then he gulps before answering, "i like you, y/n." "what?" "i know i- fuck, i swear i'm not a creep. i swear i didn't start this fake ruse with you because i like you. hell, i didn't even know then that i liked you." "then, when?" " i realised it last night. but i think it wasn't even like a epiphany per se. just a realisation.... and a way to label some feelings that have been occupying my heart recently."

dear god, help me. you cry out silently for help, because fuck, he looks so earnest right now. so soft, so genuine, his words stunted with how fast he's speaking and his eyes a little dazzled in that on-brand look only vernon can pull off as cute. "nonie, are you serious?" he nods his head fervently. "i am. and i know this may be overwhelming, so you don't have to respond to me right now. but if you do want to reject me, you can tell me right away, i won't be-"

thinking about best friend's older brother!vernon who didn't see this coming in any of his mind's versions of how his confession would go

but it's certainly the best version when he feels your lips press against his. you pull away almost instantly, and he asks, "y/n?" you don't reply immediately, your eyes cast downwards to your hands. "y/n-ah? did you mean that?" after a long pause, he finally hears you squeak back, "yes, nonie. i- i wanted to try it and see what it felt like."

oh. so it was an experiment. well, that's manageable- although vernon doesn't think he'll ever forget the way your lips feel. "y/n-ah if you want to leave, you can. you don't have to-" but you don't let him continue. you kiss him again, pressing your wet, warm, soft lips against his own, and his hands find their way towards you. one of his hands settle on your cheek, and the other on your waist, and he pulls you nearly on top of him as he kisses you back hungrily.

they're all chaste kisses, until you open your mouth slightly and he takes the opportunity to let his tongue roam inside your mouth. but he underestimates you, you quickly suck on his tongue, making him moan out as he pulls back, breathless. "y/n, you've gotta tell me what this means. i can't keep kissing you without any clue of your feelings."

"do you need me to say it aloud, nonie?" "yes? please!" you pout slightly, as if offended by his demand. but then you whisper, "i like you too, nonie. i just wanted to see if my suspicions are real or just a figment of my imagination because you're so perfect." "perfect? har-" "no, you are. and that's not a recent discovery of mine. i've known it forever. you are too perfect to be real, vernon."

and that does it for vernon. the floodgates of his heart burst open, and all the feelings he'd been suppressing for so long flood into his system. it makes him warm and tingly all over, and he leans it to cup your cheeks. "you're the one who's perfect for me y/n-ah. i wasn't wrong all those years ago, you know. you are the woman i've always wanted to marry." you giggle shyly and hide your face in his chest, and vernon knows he's found his soulmate in you.

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fawnlotties · 4 months ago

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being charlotte matthew’s assistant…

you were forever grateful that charlotte had decided to take pity upon a broke college student and hire you as her assistant. you were skeptical of her ‘intentional community’ at first, but charlotte was the furthest thing from a demanding boss. being able to sit in a homely office with guaranteed hot meals and a gorgeous older woman to check in on you constantly - how could you complain?

speaking of, charlotte was always around you. you’d find it overbearing if you didn’t love the scent of her bergamot perfume, or the way her hand would linger on your shoulder when she’d ask you to chase up client information. as the weeks went on so did her watch over you, to the point where your office became merged with her own.

“but, no one’s meant to come in here… are you sure?”

“of course, darling. it’ll only make things more efficient, won’t it? and… i could use the company.”

you had a growing suspicion that charlotte was favouring you. you weren’t required to wear purple like everyone else, in fact, charlotte went out of her way to begin supplying you with ‘uniform.’ skirts and dresses teetering the line of sensual corporate, whatever that meant. she’d insist you left the top buttons of your blouse undone - “it’s getting quite warm in here, right? maintenance are useless…” - she’d even begun to expect a little fashion show whenever new heftily-priced clothes were placed atop your bedsheets. you couldn’t lie, it excited you to see her so endeared, so proud as you meekly show off your new not-very-sensible black pumps with a price tag that could send you into cardiac arrest.

you soon learnt that charlotte is very tactile. not only in her work within the community, but in her work with you. the first time she suggested you give her a massage, albeit half-joking, you wondered when your daydreams had turned so vivid. as your manicured fingers dug into the junctures of her tensed neck and she lets out a breathy moan, you thanked all your lucky stars.

charlotte declared that your fingers “work magic,” and you tried move past the obvious innuendo that had your cheeks heated red every time you’re around her. it’s hard, though, when she began to use your affection as a stress reliever. it’s not like you hate it, anything but. behind closed eyes, your nights are filled with visions of her slender fingers enclosed around your wrist, tugging you impossibly closer, slipping between your stocking-clad thighs. you sensed that charlotte can somehow read your thoughts, though the thought both scares and excites you.

it started with more massages, where she slips the soft material off her shoulder because “i’m so tense here, lend a hand?” her calloused fingers began to clasp at yours, guiding them just a little further down to where you think the boundaries of your position are blurred. but at this point, self control is out the window, especially with the way her doe eyes completely pull you inward.

everything about her pulls you in, really. all she has to do now is whisper a soft “darling,” when you appear in the doorframe, maybe even a little coax with her finger, and you’re practically floating right into her lap. it’s a proven stress reliever for her, and you’re more than happy to provide. that’s what a good assistant does, after all!

her lips find your neck because she says the scent of you relaxes her, sometimes whispering that you taste good, and you’d never admit how excited that gets you. meanwhile her hands toy with the material of your cardigan’s hem, and you get the hint.

charlotte loves when you talk. she’ll ask you to drone on about your day whilst her teeth are just lightly puncturing the soft skin of your neck, tsk if you stutter whilst she pries your thighs apart. you want to please her, after all, and she knows this too. it’s why her praise now comes in a constant stream, whispers of “good girl, that’s it, you’re making me so proud…”

you make her especially proud when you sink to your knees, under the mahogany of her desk. it’s only ever when you notice she’s particularly tense - knuckles white as she grips the edge of her desk, brows pursed into a quaint frown. you have her like jelly in almost no time as you slip underneath her kaftan, and the only sounds that fill the grandeur of the room are your muffled hums and charlotte’s shaky gasps, curses and praise slipping through her lips like a mantra. only when her thighs are shaking and her eyes are rolling back does she forget about the tasking role that is being head of her commune, all thanks to her doting assistant.

#lottie matthews #lottie matthews x you #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews x y/n #charlotte matthews #charlotte matthews x you #charlotte matthews x y/n #charlotte matthews x reader #yellowjackets #courtney eaton

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dreamerschroniclesofstories · 1 year ago

Note

Hey love ! Hope you’re having a wonderful day/night 🩷

Could you please do a Tommy X reader where the reader works for him ( it could be his maid or secretary) and someone says something mean to them and they feel so humiliated that they leave. At first Tommy doesn’t know what happened until someone tells him and he goes ballistic and ends up defending her then they end up together 🩷 it could be angst to fluff please :) thank you so much

Sorry for any mistake !! English is not my first language

Hey lovelie! Thank you so much for your ask, I can definitely do that for you!. Hope you guys enjoy.

This fic will be based around season three, this means that Tommy and grace do not get married, in this she had Charles then left Tommy. Also, in this Lizzie is a bitch but its only for the purpose in the fic x.

Summery: request above

Word count: 2,321

When you were twenty, you had graduated from bed-ford college, which was very uncommon since not many people could read or write, but luckily your mother learnt you from a young age how to both which allowed you to complete your studies.

However, this meant that when people found out you were from London and had gone to one of the most prestigious colleges for young women, you were judged. Most people thought you were a privileged woman from a rich family. Unknownst to anyone but yourself, you aren't. You lived in a one bedroom apartment with your mother and two younger sisters. Your father had left your mother ,after your youngest sister was born, for a younger woman.

As you grew up, your mother had become ill, she had began to suffer from Melancholia, as her doctor described it. She never recovered from it and died when you had moved back home after graduating. When your mother died, your young sisters were left in your care and you decided you wanted to leave London and find somewhere else for your sisters to grow up. After nearly four years, you found your current home, Birmingham.

You loved your job, all you had to do was respond to letters for Tommy, make sure his schedule was up to date, make sure there weren’t any over laps and make meetings on his behalf. The only bad part of the job was sharing the room with tommys other secretary, Lizzie stark. At first, when she had started working two weeks after you started. She was nice, you spoke everyday, had lunch together whilst on break but once you started to get closer to Tommy she began to change.

At the beginning, you pretended not to notice, thinking maybe she was just having a bad day but every time you went into tommys office without knocking or every time Tommy comes in work, he stops to speak to you and asks you how your weekends been and how you sisters are, Lizzie would grumble under her breath and when you weren't looking would steal the paperwork Tommy gave you to sort out so she could do it and claim you weren't.

Today was one of the days that Lizzie was being extremely bitchy, it was a Friday afternoon which meant Tommy wasn't in the office most of the day. He was either at a meeting or in the betting shop. This left you and Lizzie alone.

You had just gone into tommys office to put the paperwork Tommy needed on his desk when Lizzie walks in as well.

“ Tommy has a lot of whores, one for each month, which one are you?”she sits down at the round oak table, getting out a cigarette then lights it.

You turn around to look at Lizzie and frowns, not understanding the purpose of this conversation “ what Mr Shelby does in his personal life is none of my business”

“don't act dumb, you know what i'm talking about Y/N” Lizzie spits, venom lacing her voice.

“ i don't think we should be having this conversation when Mr Shelby isn't here, its not appropriate” you asserted, picking up another pile of paperwork, being to walk back to the double doors that leads out to you desk and Lizzie.

The sound of scuffing catches your attention, making you stop walking and look towards Lizzie once again “ get off your high horse Y/N, this is Birmingham everyone is a whore, they don’t have money to act like they are better then everyone” Lizzie barked, pointing a finger at you.

Your heart begins to race, the blood running through your veins begin to rush to your face, causing your cheeks to begin to heat up, it was like someone had turned up your internal thermostat to the maximum and now your face is a shade of red that would make a tomato jealous.

“ i'm sorry if i offended you in some way, i did not intend too” you apologise, you knew you hadn't said anything offensive but you didn't like confrontation and you wanted to avoid yelling in any possible way.

Lizzie takes a drag of her cigarette “ you are so insufferable, i dont know how your family deals with you” she chuckles under her breath.

At the mention of your family, you take a shakey breath and turn away from lizzie “ i need to start this paperwork” . As soon as you sit back at your desk, you began to look through the paperwork but you couldn't concentrate. what Lizzie said to you runs laps in your head, making your chin begin to quiver as your eyes begin to fill with tears.

Unfortunately, at the same time polly walks through the main doors into the building, she walks over to you. Wiping under your eyes quickly,putting a smile on your face.

“ hello Polly, what can i do for you?” you ask softly, your voice breaking slightly as you try to hold in your emotions.

Polly raises an eyebrow and places her purse down on your desk, watching as Lizzie walks out of tommys office with a smirk on her face but as soon as she sees Polly, she quickly covers it with a smile.

“whats happened?” Polly asks, suspicion filling her words, looking between Lizzie and you.

“ nothing pol, just talking business” Lizzie puts on a smile and looks towards you, her eyes widening for a second to tell you not to say anything.

“yes, just business” you agree, nodding slightly.

Polly hums “ if you say so, anyway is Tommy free in the afternoon this week” she asks.

You grab his schedule from your draw and begins to look through this weeks page he's free Wednesday afternoon from two o'clock onwards” you grab your pen “would you like me to write you in for a meeting with him”

Polly smiles and grabs her purse again “ yes, thank you Y/N, your a doll” she kisses your cheek softly then leaves.

The visit from Polly, helped you distract yourself from the situation with Lizzie, you smile happily as you begin to write down the information bout polly's meeting in tommys schedule. As you begin to write in the book, the ink tub falls onto the page causing you to gasp.

You look up and see Lizzie standing in front of your desk, smirking. she lights another cigarette “opps, i guess you'll have to tell Tommy you ruined his book” she tuts, shaking her head.

Once again, your pulse begins to race, your heart starts to beat so incredibly loudly, louder then gunshots. Your hands shake as you begin to try and pat the ink with her handkerchief but it wasn't working.

“no,no,no” your eyes begin to well up with tears for the second time, in less them an hour. You look up at Lizzie, disbelief in your eyes.

“ why would you do that, this has all of Tommy's schedules” you ask astonished.

“ you don't belong here, I've known Tommy before you even were in Birmingham, i should be sat in your chair. Everyday i have to see you prim and proper, giggling at Tommy” Lizzie rants angrily.

Unknownst, to both of them. Polly was still behind the door listening to the conversation. she knew something was wrong so she wanted to listen in case they were hiding something.

Polly leaves the office, determined to find Tommy to tell him what she heard between his secretaries. however, she couldn't find him.

It had been a few hours since the incident, you were quiet s you write a letter to Tommy, you have decided to leave your position of head secretary, you couldn't cope with the daily taunting from Lizzie.

The sound of the door opening and close catches both of the women's attention, you stand up immediately when you see Tommy.

“ Mr Shelby, i need to speak with you if that's alright” you ask softly as you walk around your desk, to stand beside Tommy.

Tommy nods and lights the cigarette that was resting between his lips “ come through to my office miss Y/N” he gently places his hand on the small of your back as you begin to walk to his office with him.

As the door to his office closes, you didn't notice Lizzie watching you. Her eyes like daggers.

“please sit” Tommy nods to the chair by his desk as he sits in his own chair, slowly blowing out the smoke from his mouth. You gulp and nod, sitting down slowly on the cold brown leather seat. the coldness helping to cool down your skin.

“ I've been thinking for the past couple of weeks, and i didn't want to do this but its the best thing for me” you explain, nervously fiddling with the letter in your hands. Your hand shake as you give Tommy the letter “ i'm giving in my notice as Secretary, i will be leaving this company after we finish this conversation”

Tommy frowns, taking the letter gently “ may i ask why” he raises an eyebrow, looking towards your direction. you end up making eye contact for the first time during this conversation.

You smile slightly, your eyes showing that you were distressed “ no reason, i just feel ready to move on”

The next day

Tommy had organised a company/ family meeting, he had some business to talk about. Lizzie had to sit in the meeting since you use to but now you had left your position, no one else can do it.

Tommy had ordered two peaky blinders to watch your flat, wanting you to be protected since people knew you were associated with them.

The meeting had started nearly half an hour ago, however Polly just noticed Lizzie sitting at the table. She frowns “ Thomas, where is Y/N?”

Tommy sighs and leans against the wall, taking out his cigarette holder then opens it “Y/N has decided to move on with her career and no longer work for me” he announces.

Polly raises an eyebrow, glancing at Lizzie, seeing her smirk slightly “ have something to say Lizzie?” her voice full of bitter.

Lizzie shakes her head, no saying anything. Tommy nods and lights his cigarette “ Lizzie, by tomorrow afternoon i need an advert in the paper for a new head secretary” he explains.

Lizzie frowns “you're looking for someone else, i thought i would take that position” she admits.

Polly chuckles and shakes her head “ is that why you forced Y/N to leave? or is it because you want to fuck Thomas?” she quizzes.

Lizzie blushes slightly as Tommy raises an eyebrow and looks towards her.

“is that right Lizzie?” he asks, his eyes turning cold.

“ it wasn't fair Thomas, she came in and you gave her the job straight away without even knowing her” she snaps, putting down her pen. The room went quiet after lizzies confession.

“you were jealous of her so you made her feel bad about herself so much that she left her job? ey? are you fucking proud of yourself” his voice begins to rise as he speaks.

“it wasn't-” Lizzie begins to defend herself when Tommy interrupts her.

“ By the end of today, i want your desk cleared and you stuff gone, you're fired” he points to the door as he speaks, Polly smirking as she watches Lizzie stand up and rush out of the door. As soon as Lizzie left, a blinder rushes into the room.

“Tommy, shes leaving. we followed her to the train station. shes got bags and her sisters are with her as well” he states, catching his breath.

Tommy immediately grabs his coat and cap, rushing out of the betting shop.

At the train station

The sound of people yelling and rushing to and from trains fills your ears as you carry your bags, your sisters infront of her, walking towards the platform where your train back to London would arrive. The clunking and screeching of train engines makes you flinch slightly, you never get use to that sound.

Your train was due for another hour but you wanted to have enough time for your sisters to say goodbye to their friends before you went to the train station.

As you sat on the bench with your sisters, you didn’t hear Tommy calling your name since the platform was extremely loud. However, in the corner of your eye you see him walking over.

“ girls, stay here” you instruct, standing up.

You walk over to Tommy, looking up at him as you both stand infront of each other. However, you didn’t have time to say anything before Tommy kisses you. You didn’t know what to do at first but after a few seconds you felt your shoulders relax as you ease into the kiss.

Time slows, your lips felt like they were made to connect with each other. The feeling of Tommys hand on your cheek causes goosebumps to arrise on your skin. You had wanted his mouth on your for months, but now it’s happening, you want to savour the moment.

Your lips part softly, chasing tommys as he pulls away “ what was that for?” You whisper, biting your lip ever so softly.

“ I should have done it awhile ago” he whispers, stroking your cheek bone gently “ come back, I know what happened, lizzies gone” he explains, looking into his eyes. His pupils blown.

You smile, chuckling under your breath “ okay” you whisper, putting your hand over his.

Tommy brushes his pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. A silent harmony parts your lips as a soundless breath leaves your mouth. Your eye lids slide shut as Tommy leans in, brushing his lips across yours, feeling the coldness of his skin, like snowflakes trundling down from the sky. The soft pillow of your mouth gives Tommy the pressure that he longed for.

This is the light at the end of the tunnel, and you’re so glad you survived.

A/N: hey guys, I don’t really like this one. It feels rushed and it’s unedited so there are a lot of grammar and spelling mistakes. Please do like and comment, I appreciate all of your support ❤️

#peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagines #peaky blinders masterlist #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby fic #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic

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perlelune · 1 year ago

Text

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | vii.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

The brightness of the floodlights beaming across the stadium rivals that of the stars' peppering the sky. The bleachers are packed, students waving and cheering from the crowd at the lined up players.

Tension hangs in the air, so thick and palpable you feel the weight of it clogging your airways.

Shaking your shoulders and strengthening your spine, you rush to join the other cheerleaders at the edge of the field.

The minute she notices you, Alana makes a beeline for you, her blonde ponytail swinging from left to right and her forehead creased with a deep wrinkle of displeasure.

You go still and keep your gaze low as she approaches. A lion might cower beneath the sharp coolness of her glare.

If anyone can make someone flinch with her eyes alone, it's Alana.

"Where the hell were you?" she blurts out without ceremony, sternly planting herself before you with her arms crossed.

Words stumble out of you in a nervous heap.

"I-I ran into a friend and-" you start but she interrupts you with a dismissive wave of her immaculately manicured hand.

"Nevermind, the game’s about to start," she says, gripping her temple and releasing a deep, irritated sigh. She squints and mutters below her breath, "Just because I moved you from flyer to backspot doesn’t mean you get to slack off."

Your heart pinches at that. After Halloween night, nothing was the same. While Alana agreed to let you remain a member of the squad, she shifted your position when the rumors about you being in cahoots with Ghostface spread around campus like wildfire.

She didn’t want you to sully the squeaky clean image of the team. So you were relegated to the bottom of the pyramid where you could blend in and not bring too much attention to yourself.

You don’t mind it excessively. The looks people give you are one thing. You’ve learnt to brush off the unfortunate scrutiny.

But being part of the team…it’s the one thing in your life you’re actually good at.

Damn near everything else, you have spectacularly failed at.

Cheerleading makes you feel good about yourself.

You don’t want to lose that.

Lisa tosses a questioning glance your way, green eyes flicking to Ethan up in the bleachers, diligently snapping pictures.

He notices you peering up at him and smiles at you but, unlike every other time, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and he quickly looks away.

When your focus settles on Lisa again, confusion etched on features, your heart sinks.

You mouth the word 'later' to her. As she nods at you, your stomach knots at the prospect of the conversation ahead.

If only you could tell her now, rip the band-aid…but the game's about to start.

You held high hopes for it to work out. Lisa was voted 'hottie of the month' more times than anyone else on the team.

Everyone who meets her instantly falls for her charm and stunning looks.

She also has many hobbies outside of cheerleading, from video games to card games you couldn’t understand anything about if you tried your hardest.

You thought she and Ethan would click and make such an amazing couple.

It never occurred to you he might already like someone else. You can’t remember getting a glimpse of him with any girl no matter how much you scratch your mind to recall.

Now your curiosity is piqued about this mystery girl.

Ethan sounded so taken with her.

She must be quite the girl to have stolen his heart like that, probably as cool and smart as he is.

Maybe you could try to set them up instead.

You're still hell-bent on figuring out a way to thank him for how much he's been there for you lately.

Helping him gather the courage to pursue the girl of his dreams could be one way to do that.

Alana claps her hands, her attention pivoting to the whole team, the other girls’ tense expressions mirroring yours. "Everyone, showtime!" she finally announces.

Thoughts vacate your mind as you lift your pom-poms and concentrate on performing the routine to perfection. You don’t miss a single step, losing yourself to the beat played by the band.

You can’t help but bask in pride when you land a perfect pirouette, never faltering once.

Everything’s right again. Simple and easy.

The thrill of the game. The bated breath each time the opposite team tilts the odds in their favor.

The rush of victory.

Victory.

Before you know it, the game’s over and the elated clamor of the crowd is filling the stadium.

Amidst the overflow of joy erupting around you, Tyler fights his way through the crowd to reach you.

He’s still in his football uniform when he effortlessly lifts you from the ground and whirls you in the air.

"You’re my good luck charm, gorgeous," he beams.

You laugh as your head spins. "Ty, put me down."

He does as you say, keeping his hands on your waist to steady you when your feet touch the grassy floor again.

"Sorry," he chuckles. "Got carried away."

As he bends over you and his lips graze your cheek, your stomach flutters.

He rears back, blushing while holding your hands. "I’m sorry. Was that okay?"

Mouth agape, you blink up at him. "It’s totally okay," you stammer, heat rising in your cheeks.

You’d missed that feeling, the simplicity of casual flirtation and having a crush.

The euphoric bubble is popped when your gaze locks with Lisa’s in the background. As you watch her go back inside, your chest twinges.

You squeeze Tyler’s hand apologetically.

"Can we pick that up later?"

He gives a swift nod, his bright grin intact.

"Of course. You’re coming to the OKB house to celebrate, right?"

"Maybe not. My friends and I kind of had plans."

He cups the side of your face.

"Okay. What about Saturday night then? We can do dinner and a movie." He pauses and studies you. "I’m just not about games. I like you and I’d love to take you out sometime, that’s all."

His straightforward admission curves your lips skyward. But the smile on your face quickly dies as a chill blooms at the base of your spine, scattering outward and freezing you in your spot.

Sucking a sharp breath, you whirl and inspect your surroundings.

You’re astonished to find nothing barring the excited people celebrating around you.

You could have sworn you felt…something.

Like someone watching you.

The strange sensation clings to you as Tyler inquires, his tone rife with concern, "Is something wrong?"

You shake your head and slot a wobbly smile onto your face.

"Uh…not at all. I’m free on Saturday," you chime.

"Awesome. I’ll text you the details."

You hum your approval and he brushes another soft kiss on your cheek.

Part of you is over the moon. You’ve wanted this for weeks since Tyler and you started hanging out.

But something is off, though you can’t pinpoint what. A wrongness you can’t define or explain.

Even as you stroll down the hallways toward the girls’ locker room, your nerves are frazzled, thrumming in alert.

It’s been weeks since you’ve been this tense. Since…him.

"You’re coming, babe?" Mindy says, grabbing your hand as she runs into you in the hallway.

Anika’s by her side and gives you a tight hug. "Hey, it’s been a minute," she observes.

You can’t deny that. Between cheer practice, Ethan tutoring you and all the assignments you need twice as much time than everyone else to complete…you’ve neglected hanging out with your friends.

Before you can open your mouth to explain, Mindy rolls her eyes. "It’s because she spends all her time with Ethan now."

Anika giggles as your best friend pretends to gag at the mere mention of Ethan’s name.

Usually, you’d respond to her antics but you’re too distracted tonight.

Besides, there’s a conversation you need to have as soon as possible, much as you dread it.

"Don’t wait for me. I’ll catch up," you tell Mindy before making your way to the girls’ locker room.

Chad tries to stop you on the way to share his excitement but you promise him you’ll see him later. While disappointment paints his features, he lets you go.

Ethan’s nowhere to be seen and you remember about the trash he mentioned before the game. Your brow furrows in befuddlement. What an odd time to pick to handle his garbage. You suppose Ethan’s just this obsessive about having a clean space. Maybe he’s one of those ODC people.

Gnawing on your lip, you sluggishly drag your feet inside the changing room. Most of the girls are wrapped in bubbly chatter, the excitement of the night coating the air.

You clear your throat and sit on the bench near one particular redhead with a dour look on her face.

Twiddling your fingers, you clear your throat before trembling words spill out of you.

"Hey, Lisa. So I-"

She cuts you off while buttoning her shirt, "Don’t bother. I can already tell from your face."

Your brows draw together.

"My face?"

"Yeah, you just…you wear your heart on your sleeve, you know?" Her voice cracks as her mouth twists in a hollow smile. "He said no, didn’t he?"

Your shoulders sag. "I’m so sorry."

She flips her hair and releases a heavy sigh.

"Don’t be. Plenty of fish in the sea and all that." She picks up her backpack and stands, hands on her hips. "Bummer, but it is what is."

"He said he already likes someone else," you explain, hoping to soften the blow.

She gives you a pointed glare before scoffing, "Someone else, huh?" She exhales and folds her arms. "Do me a favor…Let him down easy, will you?"

Your lashes bat as you tilt your head sideways. "What do you mean?"

She sighs again and sidles closer to you to gently cradle your face.

"Sweetie, there aren't a lot of girls Ethan hangs out with…"

Your confusion grows tenfold. You noted that too. Was she trying to hint at the identity of the mystery girl? Did she figure it out before you could?

"Uh?"

Lisa scrutinizes you before an acrid laugh peals from her lips.

"I envy you sometimes, you know," she says, letting go of your face as a forlorn smile pulls her lips. "Maybe if I were more like you…I wouldn’t feel as crappy as I do right now."

"Lisa…"

She takes a step back when you reach for her, flashing you a huge grin.

"I’ll see you at practice. Thanks for trying."

Lisa leaves and you change out of your cheerleading outfit and back into a regular one. You elect to shower at home on the way to meet up with your friends, too down in the dumps to properly bask in Alana congratulating you for your performance tonight after giving her usual post-game captain speech.

As you gather your things from your locker, preparing to leave, your phone rings.

You scowl at the unknown caller ID, picking up without much thought.

"Hello?"

"I thought we had something special. I’m so disappointed in you, princess," a distorted, tragically familiar baritone rumbles on the other end of the line.

Your heart drops to your feet.

"I didn’t do anything. Please…" you whimper, tears already collecting in your eyes.

You thought you were done with him…or rather that he was done with you. After giving him what he asked, you thought you were off the hook.

You were so stupid.

Ghostface unleashes a sinister laugh, turning your blood to ice.

"Didn’t do anything? Giving away what’s mine to some lame alpha bro. Opening your legs for some dickhead who doesn’t deserve you."

You sniffle, your fingers quaking around the phone.

"We haven’t done anything, I swear."

"Good…And you never fucking will."

His foreboding inflection makes your insides wrench. Abruptly, the call ends.

Your phone clatters to the ground as you rush outside, tears streaming down your face. Every single thought in your head is turned to Tyler and the danger he’s in.

You don’t get far, pandemonium unleashing around you as you leap into the hallway. Panicked students bump into you. You zigzag through them as the thunderous beats of your heart grow louder in your ears.

A frantic scream reaches you from the other end of the hallway.

"Somebody calls an ambulance," they shout. "Ghostface shanked one of the players in the shower."

Your eyes go wide as you stumble and collapse, the room swiveling off its axis through the veil of your tears.

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #dark!ethan landry #bimbo!reader #ethan landry x you #scream 6 #scream

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violaextract · 5 months ago

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NOT ONLY CLASS SWAPPED SCYTHEBELTS, BUT ALL CLASS SWAPPED FATED??

you try to give a flower to your crush and your powers go haywire smh

hi so if you saw the og class swaps i did for the fated in like,, 2020 maybe,, uhhhhhhh no you didnt ( you can see the og ones behind them in the line up )

this time i chose sub classes for them!! and they are very silly, BELOW THE CUT IS MY THOUGHTS AND WHY I CHOSE THE SUBCLASSES I DID, IF YOU WANNA HEAR MY RANTING VVVV

sylnan is circle of shepherd, i felt that it suited him, especially with the idea that he could steal from people with the help of animals, also because he lived with the rats, so,, ykyk,, also the vines can be used to climb stuff because thats cool, i love the guardian spell too, basically you get downed and you can summon a spirit that will attack anything that gets near you, ( even if the spell doesnt attack teammates or non threats its a nice idea for braad to be the only one who can get near him when this happens, and possibly as the party grows together the others can also approach him ) also the vest design is meant to mimic a ribcage, i think i had an idea of why i did this but forgot,, it just looks cool. maybe something to do with his death or his emotions, whos to say

braad, arcane trickster, SURPRISING NO ONE, hes silly thief guy who maybe became a rouge to help their situation, but he was kinda just hiding it from his brother, until the pact thing happened and then after the pact is severed, hes a trickster instead of a bard. he needs to be able to do his silly illusions, also i like to think he just happens to doge stuff, like by sheer coincidence

velrisa, college of lore, i thought because she wouldnt be a cleric for weejas, she could be a sort of, storyteller if you will, spreading the word and fighting for her god with music, she still does stuff with undead and whatnot being raised by clerics, but she simply found another way to show that,( maybe she struggled with normal cleric magic also maybe she relates to mountain )

taxi, battle master fighter, it was this or champion, but i feel like it fit what with what we know about his parents, in this he was trained and whatnot, it was probs a gillion tidestrider thing where it was fucked and he throughout the fated travels learns to fight for himself and protect the people he cares about instead of listening to what people told him he should be fighting for. also maybe he could become some sort of champion because its taxi, i love him.

mountain, war domain, like with taxi i was inbetween war domain and death domain, i felt death domain because the death of his wife maybe threw him into that, but i felt that what with mountain being in a fighting ring and meeting his wife there, that war fit better, he is a crazy good fighter and healing also possibly learnt from Hilda and heightened after her death. hes still mountain though so alcholic cleric punch healing and shenanigans, dont think that just because hes a healer now hes devoid of everything that makes mountain, mountain. plus with taxi, maybe hes very involved with helping taxi find his fight, and with vel, she knows about cleric stuff despite not being one so ykyk

okay rant over, the read more thing didnt work so IM SORRY, i put too much thought into this BYEEE

#jrwi fated #scythebelts #jrwi show #jrwi fanart #sylnan vengolor #braad vengolor #velrisa grayrock #jrwi taxi #jrwi mountain #yeah yeah ill draw other jrwi shit soon #i think i default to the fated because ive drawn them for so long its easier #but bitb stuff is going to come soon enough because im obsessed with literally all of them #i draw fated so much but I AM CRAZYYY ABOUT SO MANY OF THE NEW CHARACTERS YOU DONT EVEN KNOWWWWW

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atimeofyourlife · 2 years ago

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Steve struggled with telling the difference between platonic and romantic feelings for others. If he had to pinpoint it, it would start in his childhood.

It started with his father bringing the new assistant, Rebecca, to Steve's fifth birthday party.

"She's a nice girl. She'll be a good friend to the family." Richard Harrington had said, dismissing his wife's disapproval.

Steve didn't think anything of it until he was sent to find his father before the cake was served. He found him in the study, with Rebecca perched in his lap as he kissed her.

"Don't worry about it Steven, we were just being friendly," Richard said as he shooed Steve from the room.

It got worse as Steve grew a little older, and the lines kept blurring in his friendship with Tommy and Carol. They all hung off each other throughout their childhood, holding each other's hands and hugging for comfort whenever needed. Practising kissing when they hit fifth grade, Steve and Carol, Tommy and Carol, Steve and Tommy.

Once Tommy and Carol started dating in seventh grade, the line blurred even further. Steve had thought it would be the end of whatever they had been doing, but it wasn't. When he was single they'd let him join them in making out. And it went further as they went through their teens. Carol was the first girl who let him touch her boobs. Tommy was the first person to give him a handjob. They were where he learnt how to eat out a girl and how to suck a dick. He was a little bit in love with both of them, but after every time, one of them would assert that it was all a part of friendship.

"What are friends for?" Tommy had laughed before walking off with his arm around Carol.

He thought it changed with Nancy. He fell in love with her, hard and fast. Even after the Upside Down happened and Barb died, he thought it was real. He was devoted to her, and would do anything for her. He apologized to Jonathan, and replaced the broken camera. He dropped Tommy and Carol, no longer allowing himself to blindly follow their cruelty. He kept up with basketball, baseball, and swimming, but also threw himself more into his academics. Taking his classes more seriously, trying to set himself up for a good college. Attending regular dinners with Barb's parents. Doing what he could to support Nancy through her grief.

Every time she stated her love for him, he felt a warm flutter rise in his stomach. He started planning a potential future together. Getting engaged sometime after Nancy graduated from high school, maybe after a year or two. Getting married once she was done with college. Having kids at some point. He wanted to be a present and involved father, everything his own father wasn't. He'd be happy to be the stay at home parent, so Nancy would be able to follow her journalistic ambitions. But it couldn't last.

"Bullshit." One word shattered everything. Her words of love had been a lie. Everything between them had meant nothing to her. He tried to apologize and make it up to her. He could do better and change for her, he had before. It didn't matter, because she was running off with Jonathan before their relationship had really ended.

It felt different with Robin. Steve felt more comfortable around her than he had around anyone for a long time. She wasn't like how other girls treated him. Only interested in his name or his looks, or his family's money. Robin made fun of him and his constant poor luck in getting a date, but it didn't feel mean or cruel. It wasn't a hard and fast fall, like it was with Nancy. It was more gentle, building slowly as their summer at Scoops went on. An alliance forming in solidarity of working food service in embarrassing costumes, all while having to deal with the worst the people of Hawkins could throw at them.

And then the Russians happened. Steve felt the love and care he had for Robin grow, watching her use her talents to translate and crack the code so quickly. Her taking his side to allow Dustin and Erica to escape. He couldn't allow more harm to come to her, so he fought to keep the Russians' attention on him. Not caring how badly hurt he was, as long as she was safe. They were thrown back together and drugged, and everything became a blur until they were on the floor of the men's bathroom.

"But Tammy Thompson's a girl?" In his drugged mind, it took him a moment to realise it meant she couldn't love him in the way he thought he loved her. The love still burned, but softer. Stronger. His other half, but in a different way. A new best friend. Almost like the sister he'd never had.

Eddie was a reckoning. Steve had been aware of him for so long, it was hard not to be. His reputation as a dealer, starting to sell weed at parties sometime during Steve's freshman year. His walking on the lunch tables, giving speeches about conformity and talking down to anyone whose interests didn't align with his. Steve never thought they'd be friends, let alone anything more.

But spring break happened. Vecna happened. Eddie was thrown into the mix of the Upside Down. Forcing Steve to at least play nice for a while. But it was easy with Eddie. Even amid the panic and fear, Eddie was easy to talk to. Walking through the Upside Down, heading for Nancy's house for her guns, Steve began to feel... something? Steve pushed it away, he'd made the mistake so many times before. Was it friendship, or was it something more? He wrote it off as it having been a while since he'd really had any close male friends around his own age. And what he had going on with Tommy wasn't the picture of a normal friendship.

He tried not to read into the flirting in the RV. Brushing it off as Eddie trying to push his buttons, or trying to get comfortable with him. The warmth he felt at any contact, he pushed it as his head getting confused. The pressure of the Upside Down, with the threat of the world ending, again.

"Hey, Steve? Make him pay." Eddie's words made him step back closer. He wanted to grab him, hug him, kiss him. Instead, he just reached out and zipped up Eddie's jacket.

"What's the point of having a jacket as protection and basically armor if you're going to wear it open," Steve grumbled, before turning to walk off with Nancy and Robin.

When it was over, Eddie was minorly injured. It would have been much worse, even fatal, if he hadn't had his jacket zipped. He just had to have the wounds cleaned and stitched. Steve's injuries, being much worse and exposed to the toxins from the Upside Down for much longer, landed him in a hospital bed in a private wing that Owens and his team set up.

Steve had a constant stream of visitors, but Eddie was one of the most frequent, alongside Dustin and Robin. And he found himself falling a little further with each visit. Eddie's stories and jokes and flirting just pulled him in. He allowed himself to flirt back, knowing it was the most he'd get. It was probably just Eddie's way of being friendly.

It all changed after Steve was discharged from the hospital, after Eddie had graduated high school. They spent many summer nights together, smoking, talking, flirting. No pressure. Steve found it nearly impossible to keep his feelings to himself, but he didn't want to have yet another rejection where he'd read the situation wrong. Confusing friendship with romance.

"Tell me I'm not the only one feeling this?" Eddie asked, handing the joint over to Steve.

"Feeling what?" Steve didn't want to assume, to get his hopes up. But the way Eddie phrased it, it made it hard.

"This. Us. The flirting. There is something here, right?"

"I- I thought I was the only one. I thought I was getting friendship confused with more again." Steve admitted quietly.

"Well, big boy, I'd never want just friendship with you." Eddie moved in closer, before Steve closed the distance to initiate their first kiss.

#stranger things #steve harrington #steddie #steddie fic #eddie munson #robin buckley #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #atimeofyourwrites

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metalhoops · 2 years ago

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Nancy Wheeler always wanted something. That was her secret. It was the one thing that no one knew about her because she hardly knew how to explain it to herself. It was like being hungry for something other than food. It was illogical, incomprehensible and all the things Nancy had never let herself be.

She prided herself in being capable and competent. This manifested in different ways across the years. In the days before her best friend’s death, she had prided herself in her grades, her appearance, and her capability to somehow charm the once acclaimed ‘ladies' man’ Steve Harrington.

After that, things got messy, and her world changed. Her friend died, and she hadn’t been able to stop it. She’d learnt how to use a gun to keep herself and those she loved safe. She redefined capability, using it to encompass roles like ‘fighter’ and ‘protector’.

She realised she’d never loved Steve, not really, not in the way she should. Steve was funny. He knew how to make her laugh, sweep her off her feet, and make her feel special. No one had done that for her before. She’d lived in a crowded house that always felt empty. Steve understood that. Her mother and father had been dancing around each other since she was born. Even as the eldest child, she’d never felt special, not until Steve.

Then there was something about Jonathan. He’d been kind and compassionate. He’d been something Steve wasn’t. She didn’t want to be with Jonathan because of any external forces. Dating Jonathan wouldn’t turn heads or make the other girls in school look her way with something akin to envy. But it might fill that gaping hole of want. Jonathan understood her. He saw her for who she was and he’d loved her for it. No one had ever done that before. Steve had come close, but he hadn’t seen her. He’d seen the possibility of a white picket fence and a family.

Nancy knew if she went for that life, she’d be just like her mother. A woman filled with ambitions and dead dreams. A woman who got glassy-eyed when gazing out of her bedroom window, as though envisioning herself opening the glass and soaring free or falling to her death, impaled on the same white picket fence that’d sprung up like a field of daisies the day Nancy Wheeler was born.

For a while, Jonathan had been enough. Until he wasn’t. She didn’t know who owned the blame for the demise of their relationship. It happened slowly, maybe when he moved to California, possibly before that. They were two continents drifting apart. He left in his wake the same old familiar aching hole of want.

She applied for colleges, worked on her journalism, and freelanced for a couple of local papers outside of Hawkins, ones where women were allowed a seat at the table. It helped. She was done trying to impress others. She wanted to impress herself.

She felt more at home in her body while she was moving, but when she came home, either to her estranged family house in Hawkins or to her silent student dorm room, she felt the hole once again. That was when Steve asked her to move in with him.

She wanted to say no. She wasn’t going to do it to herself or Steve again. She didn’t want to give him hope. He was always in love with her. It waxed, waned and morphed like the moon, but the love was always there. Yet, to her surprise, he shook his head, showing her he’d also changed in their time apart.

“Not just with me, Nance. Robin and Eddie are coming too. There’s enough room. It’s gotta be lonely sometimes hauling up all by yourself.”

Nancy couldn’t think of a good enough reason to say no. So she didn’t.

What she hadn’t expected was how much she would enjoy having someone to come home to. The house was never quiet. Eddie would play his guitar at all hours of the night and morning. Ever since the group had made the mistake of getting Steve a record player for his birthday, he’d blast his music while cooking or cleaning. She couldn’t go a week without waking up to Toto’s Africa. A prospect that’d once petrified her, had somehow managed to bring her such comfort. Then there was Robin. Robin was never quiet. She was always talking to Nancy.

Nancy had gotten used to her childhood home, where they ate together at mealtimes but remained silent. The place where, when she asked about someone’s day, she’d get a one-word response and a thousand-yard stare. When she asked Robin about her day, the girl told a novel-length, detailed account, filled with wild hand gestures and, more than once, illustrations.

Nancy had come home late after spending the day at the library trying to complete a paper for her Intro to Communication and Journalism course. She was surprised to find Robin home alone, sprawled out in front of the T.V. watching what appeared to be a French Film.

“Where’s everyone?” Nancy asked, letting her bag thud to the floor as she positioned herself on the armrest of the couch.

“Watching a movie at the drive-in. I said I couldn’t go since I’m sick, real bummer.” Robin faked a cough, then winked at her, sitting up and making room for Nancy. When she didn’t move quickly enough, Robin pulled her closer.

The girl was clearly faking it. For what end, Nancy could guess. She knew Steve and how he acted when he was in love. He and Eddie had been mooning over one another for months. At first, it’d surprised her. She’d tried to deny her intuition, unsure why the concept of Steve liking Eddie made her feel naked. Nancy had always been progressive. It didn’t bother her that Steve or Eddie liked men, but it made the old, odd ache within her burn.

“Do you think they’ll finally work it out?” Nancy questioned, watching as a flicker of surprise, followed by an air of mischief fell over Robin.

“Oh, Steve knows he’s got it bad for Eddie,” Robin confided, a cheeky grin spreading over her lips. Their faces were very close. Her eyes were blue, flecked with greys and greens, perfect in their imperfection.

“He’s been waxing poetic to me for the past month. You thought listening to him talk about girls was bad? At least I can relate to that. Listening to him gush about Eddie kinda makes me want to puke. I mean Steve’s all ‘his hair looks so soft and curly, Robby.’ what am I meant to do with that? To me, Eddie’s just... I don’t know, our gremlin roommate that lives in our walls. I like the guy, but I don’t know what Steve sees in him,” Robin admitted with a laugh.

She slung a hand around the back of the couch and absentmindedly tangled one of Nancy’s curls around her finger. Oh. Nancy liked that more than she should. Robin smelled like green apple shampoo, pen ink and poor decisions.

Nancy was good at noticing things. She wanted to be an investigative journalist, and it came with the territory. She’d heard Steve mention how Robin had the habit of talking too much when she liked a girl.

Nancy also noticed how Robin looked at her, the way her eyes lingered when she came out of her bedroom in her nightdress. Her eyes had scraped over Nancy’s shins, calves and the hollow space beneath her clavicle. All the new exposed flesh she usually kept hidden. It shouldn’t feel intimate, but it did. She’d seen drawings of her likeness amongst the clutter on the kitchen table and knew who they’d belonged to. Robin was good at drawing. She wondered if the girl would ever consider doing comics for the papers. It’d be nice to work with her around.

Nancy knew Robin was talking, but she didn’t hear a word of it, distracted by the stray strand of sandy hair, caught in Robin’s lip gloss. Nancy was smart, smart enough to know nothing good could come of acting on what she was feeling. She leaned forward anyway, brushing the hair back behind Robin’s ear, watching her go still.

“How’d you get that?” Robin asked, capturing Nancy’s hand, trailing her finger over the scar cut across her palm. It was too close to another night, another possibility of love, another stupid decision by Nancy Wheeler.

“It doesn’t matter,” Nancy breathed, pulling back from Robin’s hand.

“Robin, can you do me a favour?” Nancy asked, but before she had time to reply, Nancy pushed forward.

“Don’t fall in love with me,” she warned, her voice small but deathly serious.

Robin pulled back as though slapped, looking at the woman before her with wide eyes, seeming like a creature ensnared in a trap. It’d come out all wrong. Nancy was never good with this kind of thing.

“I hurt everyone that loves me,” she amended.

“So please don’t fall in love with me, because I don’t want to hurt you.”

Robin blinked owlishly at the girl before leaping to her feet and pacing before Nancy and the TV.

“Holy shit,” she breathed as she paced. Robin’s body never felt at home staying still either. Nancy opened her mouth to say something, but it was drowned out by another bout of ‘holy shit’.

“You like me, Nance,” Robin exclaimed, gesturing an upturned palm between the two of them.

“You have to like me. Otherwise, you wouldn’t say that. And I mean, why the hell would you say that?” Robin ran a hand through her hair before huffing and sitting back down across from Nancy, taking her hands into her lap. They were both shaking. To her credit, Robin didn’t touch the scar again.

“It’s not your fault. What happened between you and Steve. You know that right?” Nancy hadn’t expected that. Robin was always on Steve’s side for everything, they were best friends.

“I broke his heart, too. He’s told you that, right?” He had.

“That’s different,” Nancy reasoned.

“Just because a relationship doesn’t work out doesn’t mean it was pointless. It’s like... I don’t know, having a crush on Tom Cruise,” Robin reasoned, instantly losing Nancy.

“Alright, bad example. What I mean is back in high school, I had a major crush on Tammy Thompson. Don’t give me that face. Steve has said everything you could say. The point is, looking back at it now we never would’ve worked. She was a total flake. She was pretty but I’d drive her up the damn wall, like, could you imagine Tammy Thompson letting me talk about Italian Neorealism for two hours? No. But you did.” Robin nudged Nancy’s shoulder as though to prove a point.

“Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked. The point is, I realised I liked girls because of Tammy Thompson, so liking her wasn’t a waste of time. You changed Steve and Steve changed you, same with Jonathan. It’s made you who you are, Nance and who you are is a total badass, that I really, really like. So please don’t tell me not to fall in love with you. It’s not fair. You won’t hurt me, but even if you do, I think it’d be worth it for us to try.”

Nancy never had learned to shut Robin up, but she suddenly had an idea.

She leaned forward, placing a shaking hand on Robin’s cheek and crashing their lips together, sleek, sticky, glossed lips smacking together, tasting of strawberry, feeling like home.

Maybe the third time was the charm.

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highonmarvel · 1 month ago

Note

thank you SO much for answering my question (the one with Brock Rumlow). I just think his character is VERY underrated and his darkness and gruffness is just...wonderful, especially in Infinity War (when Steve goes back in time) and in The Winter Soldier.

If you don't want to write for him, it is totally fine.

If you are willing to write for him, here is my request:

Reader grew up in an (mentally) abusive household. Her self-worth is very low, but she manages to go to college. During college, she meets Brock. He, of course, works for S.H.I.E.L.D.S, and let's say he's a very important agent, not just the STRIKE leader. Reader gets together with him (ofc, he manipulates her into that), but he gets abusive, like...really abusive. Being raised in that household, she thinks she deserves that and she stays.

One day, her friend calls the police, and reader wants to go with them, but when the police arrives at their house, right then Brock arrives home and he sends the police away (abuse of power) and then he beats reader again and noncon maybe..

THANK U SO MUCH for reading my shit...idk if you are comfortable with age-gap and everything else, but thank you again.

Stay safe! Have a great day and remember: you are loved!

oh, i especially like the ending here, with him arriving home just as she’s right about to get away. love it! i’m cool with age gap, i like it. if you wanna be super sure, make sure to check out my requesting guidelines here! but in general, i’m pretty much okay with anything. sorry it took so long, i really, really hope you enjoy. alright. let’s go:

Breaking Point

Brock Rumlow: Brock seems too good to be true at first, and when that’s revealed to be a farce, some bad timing really pushes things over the edge.

especially for the beautiful @thehydraethereal, please enjoy. seriously, please do. i tried my best.

additional content warnings here!

CONTENT WARNING, PLEASE READ: This piece includes graphic depictions of violence. Seriously, this is really dark; do not proceed if you are uncomfortable with explicit descriptions of physical abuse and rape. This is your warning. This is fucking dark. I am going to hell.

Non Con Warning!

There were very few things your parents did right—in fact, nothing they did benefitted you in anyway: the constant belittling, sometimes yelling, but when they weren’t making sure you knew just how much of a burden you were, just how much your mother regretted not having an abortion and your father regretted that night, how much pain and exhaustion your existence causes them, not to mention the ridiculous amount of money they have to spend on an oxygen thief, they ignored you and your needs. Sometimes they got tired of dealing with you, and would resort to complete neglect, going as far as locking you out of their bedroom so you couldn’t ask for food or even just a hug. You learnt to take care of yourself pretty early on in life, and you always knew you were your best shot at getting out of this alive.

Surprisingly, you found yourself to be brilliant when you started school—all your teachers (which your parents would never meet with on parent-teacher night) praised your intelligence and creativity, but when you went home with this supposedly good news, your parents either didn’t care or straight up told a six year old to fuck off and die. Your entire schooling career had been straight As and perfect attendance—despite the days where your mother was blackout drunk and couldn’t drive and your father refused to take you to school, you made a plan, always worked around their abusive behaviour. Very early on you knew your parents would never pay a dime for university, and so you worked hard to get a scholarship, and you got it! Here, is where their negligence may have paid off—the only time your mother ever smiled at you was when you said you were leaving for college and you wouldn’t be living with them anymore.

But even now, being on your own, you can never really shake the nearly two decades of constant harassment they subjected you to. Even though your teachers all through grade school assured you you were bright and had so much to offer the world, it didn’t make much of a difference when the two people who were supposed to love you guaranteed and unconditionally just constantly drilled into your head that you were, at best, good for nothing and, at worst, a huge burden no one could ever love or even appreciate. If you were worthless to them despite eighteen years of what you thought was good behaviour (you never snuck out, never drank or did drugs, never did anything but your schoolwork and clean the house) what good would you be to literally anyone else?

It’s chilly when you step out of your dorm building, making you wrap your cardigan tighter around yourself as you adjust the tote bag on your shoulder, the heavy books weighing you down slightly. The walk to the other end of campus for your next lecture is dreary as the grey sky is above: you had tried to call your mother—even through all these years, part of you hoped that maybe if she sobered up she’d apologise for everything she’s said (you knew your dad was a lost cause)—but she didn’t pick up. To make matters worse, she texted you telling you to leave her alone, and you’re pretty sure she blocked your number because the message you sent begging for just five minutes of her time never went through.

You slow down as you enter the corridor where a few of your classmates are gathered behind a pillar, looking curiously towards the doors of the lecture hall. Ducking behind them, you ask one of the girls what’s going on.

“Like, ten guys in black went in there,” she whispers, “We think they had, like, guns and stuff, too. But it’s been quiet.”

“Is Professor Brown in there?” you ask with wide eyes.

She hums in confirmation and nods towards the entrance. “We saw him go in and then these guys appeared out of nowhere! Like they’re ninjas or something,” she mumbles, and you furrow your brows as you straighten up.

Just then, there’s a bang! and the small group jumps. But it’s only the doors bursting open, revealing two guys holding Professor Brown by each arm and practically dragging him across the courtyard.

A tall man steps out, and by his confident stance and firm tone you can tell he’s in charge here. “Nothing to see here,” he says, quickly side-eying the students you’re huddled in with. “Lecture’s cancelled. Take a nap or go to the bar or somethin’.”

The group disperses and leaves you standing there. And from where the small amount of bravery comes, you don’t know, but you muster up enough courage to walk over to the man that stands much taller than you. He has his back turned to you and is talking to two of whatever task force just dragged your favourite professor out of here, who eye you suspiciously as you approach. The man dismisses them and turns to you with what is initially an unimpressed look, before he looks you up and down and something lights up in his eyes. You shift nervously under his gaze and clear your throat.

“Excuse me, sir, I— I’m sure you can’t tell me what he’s done but, do you— do you know if Professor Brown is gonna be back?”

“No, sweetheart, he’s lucky he ain’t dead,” he deadpans, making your stomach drop. He takes a step closer to you and you instinctively take a step back. “What’s your name, darlin’?” he asks in a sweet tone, but the gruffness in his voice counteracts the easiness you guess this is supposed to bring.

You stutter out a response and he smiles, reaching out a hand for you to shake. “Brock,” he gives his name in response. “Brock Rumlow.” You tentatively shake his hand with a nod, slightly intimidated by his grip that’s just a little too strong. He lets go and crosses his arms over his broad chest, looking down at you. “What’re you studying?”

You want to answer him but you check your watch and come to the conclusion you could probably get some of your dissertation going if you hurry back now, or even just take a nap, get a few more hours of sleep seeing as you spent the night crying after your mother’s cruel behaviour.

“I— I’m gonna run now,” you say, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I could fit in some work seeing as I— I don’t have anything now so—”

“How about getting a drink with me instead?”

Your eyes go wide and you’re sure you’ve misheard him. “Excuse me?”

“Can just be coffee,” he shrugs, and unfolds his arms to tuck his hands into his pockets. “I won’t keep you too long, promise.”

You stammer nervously around your words as he looks down at you expectantly. “Th— Thank you but— but I really should get back to, um, to my dorm and—”

“That work’s not going anywhere, come on. Maybe a caffeine boost will help you in the long run—half an hour, 45 minutes tops.”

You chew your bottom lip and let your eyes dart around your surroundings. There’s no one here except these police or military or secret service guys, and you have a feeling if you leave alone he’s gonna follow you and wear you down either way.

“O— Okay,” you reply, to which he smiles warmly at you in response. Surprisingly, he offers his arm, and you loop yours through his and let him guide you.

Brock is definitely a dangerous guy, and you two attract stares as you walk off campus, obviously, because he’s a muscular guy in black tactical gear and you’re clearly a little anxious on his arm and regretting your decision to wear sundress today. Despite whatever security force he’s got going on, though, you can’t help but feel a little safer with him nearby—he’s more than equipped to protect you, and he’s being nice, taking you out for coffee, maybe he’s trying to help calm your nerves, or take your mind off the weird scene you saw earlier that he definitely can’t explain yet.

When you finally get to sit down in a quiet corner of a cafe that’s got a few students scattered around, all immersed in their books, and some people with laptops undoubtedly writing screenplays they think are genius, Brock again asks you what you’re studying. You’re a little confused at first, and tell him Professor Brown’s your chemistry teacher (which makes you surmise he was busted for cooking up a couple Breaking Bads), assuming this is some kind of informal interrogation, because why else would he be interested in you? But he shakes his head.

“No, I mean your course. Is this your first year? Are you enjoying it so far?”

You offer a weak smile and give a brief outline, but he presses you for more details, seeming to have a genuine interest in what you have to say, and smiling when you get excited about certain topics, listening—really listening—to you, and for the first time in your life, you feel seen by someone, and not just someone payed to educate you.

“Oh!” you eventually exclaim when you remember to check your watch. “I’m gonna be late! God, it’s been an hour already! I’ve got to go,” you say, and hastily stand up, but Brock puts his hand over yours and looks up at you with pleading eyes.

“No, stay,” he encourages. “It’s not a big deal if you miss one class, is it?”

You look to the door and then back to him, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you consider his words. He must be right, right? It’s not a big deal. You’ve worked hard all your life, and it’s not like it’ll be difficult for you to catch up, you’re just missing one lecture.

“Um, yeah,” you nod as you sit down again. “All right. It’s… it’s not a big deal.”

“That’s right.” He smiles as he flags down a waitress to get two more coffees.

***

Staring at your busted lip in the mirror, you wonder how on Earth it got to this point. You knew Brock had the potential to be violent because that’s his job, but when did it get to the point where you couldn’t even say “I’m leaving the house” without bleeding? You think back to that first day, and how he had convinced you to stay with him for coffee, and you can’t help but curse yourself. If only you had just listened to your instincts, just gone to class like you would under any other circumstance. Why did he have that power over you? How did he convince you to stay? You know why, but you don’t really want to think about it. You know it’s pathetic but that was the first time in your life you were asked to keep talking, the first time you had spoken about yourself without being told to go away, that your voice is grating and whatever you have to say isn’t worth the strain on their ears.

But this is how it works, right? You can only pick one—be heard and deal with physical abuse, or be ignored and deal with psychological damage. And besides, Brock isn’t abusive, is he? Yes, he’s rough, but that’s just in his nature, and he is a SHIELD agent, after all��this violent instinct just comes from his training, his commitment to keeping people safe, and that just misdirects sometimes, it’s not like he can turn it off. And you have to admit, you do feel safer when you walk down the street at night with him or go to bed and not make certain all the doors are locked. His toughness is protective.

You sigh as you wipe the last of the blood off and gather cold water in your palms. You splash your face and let the cool liquid drip down into the basin, along with a little bit of blood. You need to look on the brightside: Brock’s letting you go to school again! You hadn’t been dating him long before you joined a study group at your university, excited to meet some new people, make new friends, and just learning in general made you gleeful, like a little dork (the one degrading name you’d wear proudly) but Brock was suspicious. You brushed it off, thought he was only being protective, of course, but when you were sitting at his kitchen island, eating dinner and telling him the news, his appetite disappeared and was replaced with something like anger.

“You’re not doing that,” he said, firmly, jaw clenched and forearm resting on the table with his hand balled into a fist.

“What?” you had asked with a frown, genuinely confused, “Why not?”

“You really shouldn’t be hanging around kids, baby.” His voice had dropped, gravelly tone making your body stand on alert, ready to bolt for the door if the way he was looking at you was any indication of danger. “They won’t treat you right.”

He stood up and slowly stalked over to the kitchen door, casually turning the key to lock it.

“Well, it’s— I’m not really hanging out with them, we’re just studying.”

“But you don’t need it,” he says softly, walking back into you to cup your face with his calloused hands. “You’re bright, you’re brilliant, they’ll only slow you down. You could be five years ahead of them, you know that?” The stark contrast between his bruised knuckles and his soft eyes makes your mind swirl in confusion.

“In fact,” he continues, “You really don’t need school anyway. You’ll live with me.”

You could tell that wasn’t a question. And though you were hesitant, you accepted, because how nice would it be for once in your worthless life to live with someone who actually cared. But eventually, he started getting bolder with his claims about the people around you, until he declared it wasn’t safe for you to go back to campus at all, that it wasn’t even safe for you to leave the house, and any time you questioned him, a good bruise reminded you of your place, that you were only to listen to him, because he wants what’s best for you. Right?

You had been good the last few weeks, so when you begged him to let you go back to school, promising you’d keep your head down, wouldn’t say a word to anyone and come straight back to him the second you could, he smiled and allowed it. He also gave you your phone back, he took it when he noticed reading world news was only upsetting you, and there’s no reason to worry about that stuff—that’s the stuff he takes care of everyday on the job.

After more or less making yourself look presentable, you return back to school. You haven’t heard anything from the school or your professors about your four month absence, but you’re sure it’s because Brock took care of it for you. How thoughtful, you think.

When you hear a feminine voice call your name, you want to turn around, but you remember what you promised. You pull your hoodie over your head and walk a little bit faster, but she easily catches up to you.

Wanda joins you in step and smiles at you, and though you raise your eyes to meet hers, you don’t smile back.

“Are you okay?” she asks, hesitantly bowing so she can better see your face. When you don’t respond, she reaches over and pulls your hood back, casting you into light.

“Hey!” you yell, and she gasps, taking your face in her hands before you can cover up again.

“What happened?” she whispers, ghosting her thumb over the cut on your lip.

“Nothing,” you reply, a little too quickly, making her raise an eyebrow. “I’m fine.”

Before you can process it, she’s grabbing your hand and leading you into the nearest bathroom, which is thankfully empty.

“Sit,” she instructs, pointing at the counter lined with sinks, and you obey her without a second thought, hopping up with your back facing the mirror and letting her examine you. She’s quiet for a moment before she asks, “Anything else?”

You hesitate, but the look she gives you is of serious and genuine concern. You don’t know her well, only that she’s the one who invited you to the study group, and she lives on the same floor as you did in the dorms, so you spoke to her occasionally. The fact that this woman knows nothing about you but is clearly determined to help, it makes you tear up. You roll up your sweatpants to reveal your shin and thighs stained with ugly shades of yellow and blue and brown, at which she winces.

The room is silent for a few minutes, and it feels like you’re holding your breath waiting for her to say something.

“We’ve got to get you out of there.”

You want to sigh in relief, but you also know that you can’t get out of there, that he will always find you. Nearly immediately you regret showing this to her. Neither of you said anything about Brock (in fact, you’re not even sure if she knows his name) but both of you have the same idea of him.

“N— no, Wanda, really, that’s okay. I— I need to get going,” you hurriedly stammer out as you adjust your clothes and pick up your book bag.

“Do you have your phone?” she asks, moving to block the door when you try to leave.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I do, I need to go—I shouldn’t have even come, Brock’s not gonna be home tonight so I’ve gotta prepare dinner for myself and—”

“He’s not going to be home tonight?” she interrupts with a sad yet hopeful look in her eyes.

You look away from her and decide to just push past her, regretting you said anything at all. This time, she lets you go, but not without yelling from behind you, “Keep your phone on!”

***

Later that night, it’s approaching 20h00–Brock has left but you haven’t eaten anything, and though you tell yourself it’s from the nerves of being left alone, you know you’re anxiously waiting for Wanda’s call, your heart pounding against your chest, leg tapping furiously as you stare at your cellphone sitting across the table. When it rings, you all but jump out of your seat as your heart nearly leaps out of your chest. You almost forget to press Accept before raising the phone to your ear, breathing uneven and voice shaky as you answer, “H— hello?”

“Is he gone?” Wanda’s comforting voice comes through on the other end—she’s clearly in an anticipatory state, but just hearing the care her voice carries makes you feel a little lighter.

“Yeah,” you croak before clearly your throat and mentally reprimanding yourself for being so paranoid. “Yeah. He’s… he’s out. For the night, I think. He’s not gonna be back until I think tomorrow morning, or maybe even the day after.”

“What’s your address?”

You give her Brock’s address as you make your way over to the window, peaking out into the front yard, afraid he’ll just materialise and barge him.

“Okay,” she responds after scribbling it down. “I’m calling the cops.”

“What? Wanda, no!”

“He’ll kill you if I don’t.”

Part of you wants to argue with her, say he’d never do that but… he might. You’ve never been on the receiving end of 100% of his strength but you know you’ll never make it out alive if it gets to that point.

“Please,” she pleads, desperation so evident in her voice you cup your hand over your mouth to stop the sob that threatens to come out. “I’ll come with them, I’ll be there, you won’t be alone, I can keep you safe.”

Safe. Safety: the one thing you’ve wanted all your life.

With a few hiccups you nod, forgetting she can’t see you through the phone. When she asks, “Are you there?” you reply, “Yeah. C— call them, but please come, too.”

She assures you she will before hanging up, and you’re left in silence once again. It could have been a minute or an hour before they showed up at the door, you have no way of knowing because of your nervous pacing and your mind racing a million miles a minute. When the doorbell rings, you swear your soul must have leapt out of your body for a second, that you momentarily had a heart attack but that human survival instinct brought you back to life.

Your hands are trembling so hard you wonder how you haven’t dropped the key as you slowly unlock the door and crack it open just enough to peer out into the dark. Wanda is standing behind two tall police officers, and she gives you an encouraging smile that makes you want to cry for the third time today.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” asks one of the policemen, carefully watching your movements. “We have reason to believe domestic assault may be taking place in this residence. If you could come with us—”

His words are cut short by the crunching of gravel as a car pulls into the driveway and all four heads turn to face the black SUV coming to a stop. It’s like you’re paralysed, completely still as you watch his heavy boots hit the ground and hear the door slam shut. When he circles to the other side of the car and towards the door, a brief flash of confusion crosses his features, but he quickly regains his composure, and it was a subtle display, so subtle you doubt anyone else in the world could’ve spotted it but you. Your eyes dart nervously from Brock to Wanda, who is glaring at him so hard you’re sure she’s willing daggers to pierce straight through his nonexistent heart.

“Evening, officers,” he greets, casually as he takes the few steps up to the door. “Can I help you?”

He joins you in the doorway, standing just a little bit in front of you to discreetly hide your terrified features from the two men.

“Agent Rumlow,” Officer Two greets with what’s clearly deep admiration, and you see Wanda resist the urge to roll her eyes. “It’s an honour to meet you, sir.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he responds, changing his stance to lean against the doorway and crossing his arms over his chest. “Is there a problem?”

The two officers give each other nervous looks before the first speaks up again. “We were,” he clears his throat, then continues, “We were responding to reports of domestic assault, sir. Would you happen to know anything about that?”

Though you can’t see him, based on his faux sympathetic tone, you can imagine an exaggerated display of his brows furrowed in confusion. “Can’t say I do. Do you know anything, sweetie?” he turns to you and gives you an ugly grin, a face you know all too well—that look he displays when you piss him off and he’s got an excuse to punch you this time.

You gulp and shake your head, looking down at your shoes.

“Well then—”

“Bullshit!” Wanda suddenly calls, stepping up to Brock. “You,” she begins, pointing a finger at him, her voice trembling with anger. “You are a fucking maniac! You—”

Before she can finish, Brock waves his hand and the officers grab Wanda by a shoulder each, snapping her out of her rage and into a bit of panic for a second.

“Sorry to bother, sir,” is the last word one of them gives before turning back to the car.

“Wanda!” you call out, not taking a step forward before you’re blocked by Brock’s large body. Between him and the doorway you’ve got a gap to see them dragging her away. You watch with horror as she repeatedly calls your name, unrelenting in her kicking and screaming, calling out to you, and you’re… useless. You can’t help her. She did all this for you and you can’t do a single thing for her.

In shame and fear, you take a step back, breathing heavily. You jump when the door is shut and the click of the lock makes you queasy. There’s a rattle as Brock drops his keys into the bowl near the door and sighs as he turns to face you.

“What was all that about?” he questions, in between a laugh, and you can do nothing but stare at him in horror as tears spill from your eyes.

“Well?” he asks, taking a menacing step towards you, becoming bigger and bigger before you as you cower in paralysing fear. Before you can process it, he wraps a hand around your neck and nearly lifts you off the floor as he pulls you towards him. “Fucking answer me, you cunt!”

You claw desperately at his forearm to get him to relent as his breath hits you in harsh puffs through his flared nostrils—he’s seething, practically to the point you can feel his body temperature rise and rise. When your attempts become feeble and he can feel you struggling to keep consciousness, he lets go and you fall to the ground, gasping for air as your nails dig into the weathered floorboards. You cough a few times to regain feeling in your lungs before a swift kick to your chest knocks the wind right back out of you. You go sliding a few metres across the floor, splinters poking under your fingernails making your eyes water, wrapping your hands around your neck as if that’s gonna help.

“Brock” you try, but your voice comes out as barely more than wheeze, “Please—”

“You gonna answer me?” Another kick sends you backwards, sprawling onto your belly. When you attempt to crawl forward, he presses his boot down harshly on your lower back, making you cry out as you reach an arm behind you to try and pry him off. “What was all that about, sweetheart?” he seethes through gritted teeth before delivering a kick to the side of your head, sending a warm trickle of blood running down from your temple.

“I didn’t— I didn’t call them—”

“But your little friend did.” He grabs a fistful of your hair and you whimper. Leaning down to meet you halfway with your head pulled up off the ground, he drops his gruff voice to an almost animalistic growl. “Big mistake.”

If you didn’t turn when he did, you might have broken your spine in half, still trying to claw at him as he drags you by your hair to the bottom of the staircase and tosses you carelessly onto the steps—they’re carpeted, but that doesn’t soften the blow, and a ringing sound echoes through your skull as black spots dot your vision, disorienting you for long enough to let Brock tug down your pants.

“Maybe you need a reminder of what you are, and who you belong to.”

As he’s unbuckling his belt, you take the chance to push yourself up and run up the stairs, but you trip on your pants he hadn’t even bothered to take halfway off and he easily catches your ankle, pulling you down again and making your chin hit the stairs. Your teeth clatter together painfully and you’re sure you would’ve bitten straight through your tongue if it were in the way.

Finally rid of his belt, he grabs the end of it and whips so the metal buckle slashes against your face, making a deep gash down your cheek and nearly clawing your eye out in the process. You sob as your skin is ripped and reach a hand up to cup your injured cheek. Brock takes the opportunity to to press your other hand behind your back and practically crush your wrist with the impact of his boot to keep your arm pinned down.

He tries to finger you before quickly giving up and spitting into his hand, the lewd sound making you let out another sob as you try to wriggle free, a feeble fight which he effortlessly ignores.

When you feel his tip line up with your entrance, you let your head fall in defeat. Maybe it’s better this way, to just go limp and accept whatever comes your way. You’ve been worthless all your life, maybe this will make him think you’re worth something, if you just let him do what he wants, stop fighting him, because every single time you express opposition, you get hurt. You thought Brock was the only person to listen, but he’s not listening to your pleas for him to stop.

Eventually, he grows bored of your crying and grunts in frustration, turns your head to smush your face against the dusty carpet, somewhat effectively silencing you as you try to stop crying to preserve oxygen, taking shallow breaths as if that will have much of an effect. His slow pace makes it more painful, somehow, like he’s saving this memory, taking his time and making sure every one of his thrusts hits deep enough to make you jerk forward before pulling out of you almost entirely, and doing this over and over again. Gradually, your cries die out, voice slowly disappearing and throat hoarse and as painfully dry as your cunt. You taste blood in your mouth and can feel that the blood from your tearing walls is the only thing slick enough to keep him going. Now, it’s only his groans and the sound of skin on skin when he slams into you, but when he starts to lose focus, his rhythm hesitant, he lets go of your arm in favour of gripping your hips, his nails indenting your skin, like a tattoo of his name that’s impossible to erase even if you sliced the skin off, like it’ll just grow back if you ever heal, like the scars are a reminder of your breaking point.

The very moment you decided to stop fighting, to give in, just allow yourself to be worthwhile to someone, whatever it takes.

⊗

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#dark!brock rumlow #dark brock rumlow #dark!brock rumlow x reader #dark brock rumlow x reader #dark!brock rumlow x you #dark brock rumlow x you #dark!brock rumlow x y/n #dark brock rumlow x y/n #dark avengers #dark!avengers #request

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terrorsbeauty · 8 days ago

Text

Truly

notes: geto x f!reader, possible sukuna x f!reader ;college au!!!! everyone is kinda the same age???? reader and shoko are med school buddies; everyone is slightly ooc

part 1

“Anatomy is crucial in medicine. Why? Because it is a language. How can you treat the body, without understanding it first?” he started, pacing around the room, his lips in a straight line.

“ I’ll save you some time. You can’t. That’s your only job, as medicine students. Learn the body’s language, learnt its intricacies, and you’ll find that everything is connected, and everything has meaning.”

Professor Yaga had this somberness to him, that made everything sound like a verdict. It was either this, or that, never grey. You supposed he would need to be so sure of himself in his line of work. Being a surgeon leaves little room for uncertainty, and it certainly requires a deep knowledge of the human body, that could be seen in the way he spoke about the subject. He was clearly fluent in this language, and you had the chance of learning it from the best. That only meant you had better get on it.

The class was over, but there was a stillness in the air, like everyone just now realized what they were getting in to. Oh well. You took your bag and swiftly made your way out to the back of the Anatomy building, to the smoking area, and lit a cigarette, sighing at the fact that there was only one left. You just got here yesterday, and the pack was already finished, how the fuck did that happen? Clearly there was some damage control that needed to be done.

“ You have a lighter?”

You raised your eyebrows, startled by the voice, and hand her your brand new clipper, bought at the gas station not too long ago.

The girl just nodded her head in sign of appreciation, and stood besides you, neither wanting to start any kind of conversation. The silence was eventually too much to bear, so she started speaking, but you didn’t quite register it, because you kept looking at her eyes. They were so peculiarly bright, not in color, but there was something… unusual.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

She looked at you funny and laughed. “Parliament. Aqua Blue. You have good taste.”

It was your turn to laugh. “I suppose. Better than those Lucky Strikes you’re smoking.”

“They’re the real deal, not those Vogue bullshits.” she said, her mohth corner slightly dropping in disgust.

“ Yeah, but by the end of college we’re both gonna need new lungs.”

You both smile, a small cloud of smoke forming over you.

“I’m Shoko. I think you’ll be my new cig partner.” she says finishing her cigarette and stepping on it.

“Y/N. You in Dorm B?”

“Yeah, don’t tell me we’re on the same floor, cause that would be some freaky fucking shit.”

“Last floor. I have to climb all the fucking stairs cause the stupid elevator doesn’t work.” you said rolling your eyes. What a pain in the ass.

Shoko nods her head understandingly, pursing her lips and slightly squinting their eyes.

“Makes sense. I bet those fuckers put all of us first years there.”

You throw her an amused look, fiddling with the lace of your hoodie, thinking maybe this wasn’t going to be as hard as you thought it would. Yeah, you had to climb seven floors just so you could crash in your bed, but having someone to share that torture with would make it bearable. You liked her. She was blunt, but also reserved, the real embodiment of not giving a fuck, something you clearly lacked but desperately tried to achieve; she was the kind of girl you could sit in silence without being awkward, not needing to make useless conversation just to fill the air with words.

The day flew by extremely fast, and when you finally got back to your dorm at 8 pm and realized you hadnn’t eaten anything but half a cookie Shoko gave you, you sighed. How were you going to keep up with med school if the first day already has you in shambles? You didn’t even want to think about having a social life, going to the gym, and maybe taking up some extracurricular activities, no, you couldn’t think about that because you didn’t even unpack. The stacks of boxes seemed to stare at you in disappointment, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You stared at the stained ceiling- how did that stain even get there- your eyelids starting to slowly close, when your phone started ringing. Shoko’s contact appeared on the screen and you contemplated letting it ring, but ultimately decided do answer, because college was supposed to be about making new friends, trying new things, having life-changing experiences, and staring at the duck-shaped stain on the ceiling only brought you closer to wanting to sink into the mattress and hibernate for a couple months.

“Are you in your room?” she asked with a curious tone. You answered her and suddenly saw your door open large, your guest making herself at home.

“ You look like you’re having an existential crisis, get up.” she said not even sparing you a glance and immediately opening your closet, sighing at the emptiness of it. Not even a second later she started rummaging through your boxes, opening every single one and groaning for a reason you couldn’t figure out.

“ Hello to you too, of course you can come in, yeah , sure, have a look around, it’s not like I care about my privacy or whatever.” you said , standing up and stretching with a yawn.

Shoko squealed happily upon finding a pink box - fuck, you thought, not the party box - and bringing it to your bed.

“ That’s the way things are going to be from now on, so you better get used to it.” she raised her shoulders, smiling and wiggling her eyebrows. “I love this box, by the way. We’re going to be very good friends, I can tell just from looking at it.”

“ You can tell that by the fact that I have a box full of alcohol and skimpy clothes?” you said incredulously.

“ Yup. You should wear this top tonight, it’s perfect, classy and slutty at the same time.” she huffed out and then threw it in your face.

“ You can’t be seriously thinking about going to that stupid freshman party.” you whined.

“ We,” she said while pointing at the two of you, “are going to the party. You can start getting dressed, I’ll make the drinks, we’re meeting my friends in an hour.” she explained casually, as if it was the most obvious thing, and you couldn’t do anything but comply. Even though you were more than tired, the truth was, you could never say no to going out - you were only human - and it seemed like Shoko read you perfectly. You liked her, and more than that, you liked that she acted as if you were best friends since birth.

“ We have to do shots then, because I am not going anywhere sober.” you added, while reaching for the tequila bottle in your box. Shoko gave you a big smile and the fun began. It took more than an hour, but it was to be expected, because getting ready for a party makes up for more than half of the fun. A couple shots and cigarette breaks later, Shoko knew the story of your life, you knew hers, you were planning matching tattoos and moving in together- it came naturally, as if the two of you were always meant to be friends, and the universe only now put you in the same place.

After successfully walking in the cold for 20 minutes, you reached the designated party place and calling it overcrowded would be an understatement - even the sidewalk was full of people. Shoko simply grabbed your hand and guided you through the house, which she seemed to know perfectly (you were definitely asking her about it the next day), and after bumping into countless sweaty people, you reached a closed black door. What the fuck was this?

“It’s a long story.” she said looking at your confused face, then knocking.

“ How could they hear over the fucking music?” you asked her and for a moment she just stared at you, and then quickly got out her phone. You couldn’t hear what she was saying while talking on the phone, partly due to the loud music, and partly due to the fact that just maybe, you were a little tipsy.

The door suddenly opens and this tall, white-haired guy looks at you grinning just like the Cheshire Cat. He was freakishly tall, and he had these weird round glasses on- what was going on? You enter the room, and took a look around, seeing way fewer people than you expected. What was this?

“So you are Shoko’s friend!” the white haired guy said almost screaming at you. “I’m Gojo, Shoko’s love of her life, nice to meet you, sweets.” he continued while putting his hand over your shoulder. You couldn’t even answer because Shoko snorted loudly and slapped his hand away.

“ Call yourself that again and I will use your cadaver as a learning tool for my anatomy class. I can’t stress this enough Toru, you are the reason I have so few girl friends. Just shut up.” she said half smiling at him.

“ What’s up with the glasses? You have some sort of disease or what?” you asked, studying his glasses. He gasped and flashed you a boyish grin.

“Why? You want to study me or what, sweetheart?” he said mimicking you.

“Yeah, I’m just dying to, sweetheart” you laugh, taking a sip from the drink Shoko just shoved into your hand and then get dragged away by her.

“ Don’t get too flirty with him, we don’t want his ego getting bigger than it is - if it’s even possible. ” Shoko whispers to you and you both giggle like little schoolgirls.

“What’s up with this room? Is this the VIP section or what?” you ask as you go sit on a kitchen counter.

“Gojo’s father basically owns the whole uni, so everyone will kiss his ass so they’ll get on his good side. We’ve all been coming here since high-school, and we decided the kitchen is our safe space - sort of.” she explained while lighting up a cigarette.

“And he lives here or what?”

“ No, he said he wanted to have the “full college experience” ” she said while rolling her eyes, “ so he lives in the dorms. ”

“ Not to be mean, cause he’s your friend and all, but that’s typical rich people bullshit.” you answered, shaking your head.

“ Yeah, he may be a little peculiar but he’s a good friend. Don’t tell him I said that though.” she muttered through the smoke.

You brought your own cigarette to your lips when a spark appeared in front of you. You looked up in front of you, only to see another freakishly tall guy.

“Damn, everyone here is so tall.” you thought out loud, making the guy in front of you raise his brow, while getting a laugh out of Shoko.

“ You’re welcome.” he said, calmly while also lighting his cigarette - the same brand as yours. You nodded, feeling a rush of blood in your cheeks and mentally thanking whoever it was that turned off the lights, leaving on only the red neon sign on the wall. You took a drag and looked at him through your lashes - broad shoulders, gorgeous black hair and cold, dark eyes. Shoko had good taste in friends, for sure. If the other one was Gojo, this had to be Geto, which made Shoko right - they truly were the embodiment of Yin and Yang.

“This is Suguru, Satoru’s husband.” Shoko chuckled and he slightly rolled his eyes while fake punching her shoulder.

“This is Y/N, my future wife.” she presented you, and you blew her a kiss.

“ Don’t you think we’re moving a bit too fast?” you asked her pouting.

“Not at all. I told you we were meant to be from the start.”

Geto scoffs. “You’ve been hanging out with Satoru so much you start to sound like him.” he said and Shoko’s eyes widen.

“ Take that back!”

He put his arms in the air and cracked a tiny smile, and as his shirt rolled up just the tiniest amount, you couldn’t help but notice some tattoos going down his abdomen. You didn’t let your eyes wander for too long, because you felt an arm on your shoulder - Gojo.

“ Shoko, you mind if I steal your beautiful gorgeous fellow doctor-to-be for some shots?” he lolled his words while squeezing you.

“ My darling handsome whatever you are going to be, if my wife doesn’t come then I won’t either.” you added, and Shoko sighed.

“ Enough with this talk, you’re making us all sick. Let’s just go.” Shoko deadpans, making a disgusted look.

“ You and I are going to get along perfectly.” Gojo exclaimed, looking at you through his glasses, revealing a concerning shade of blue. That definitely had to be some disease, you thought, not giving voice to your said thought and just smiling at him.

You looked at Geto who had a completely flat face - frankly, he didn’t look happy to be here. You flashed him an awkward smile that he didn’t return - what a dick - and made your way through the crowd, guided by Gojo.

The huge living room smelled awful, the floor was sticky, and there were so many people you could barely breathe, but you were in a perfect state of inebriation, not completely drunk off your mind, but close enough so that you didn’t care. You became extra social, as you usually did in this state, flashing smiles left and right, talking to everyone about everything. You and Gojo seemed to make an unstoppable duo when drunk, that couldn’t be stopped when there were shots involved, leaving Shoko surprised.

All the dancing and the smoke started to make you dizzy so you made your way outside, leaving Shoko talking to a very pretty girl from your class, Utahime you thought was her name, knowing you’ll definitely tease her about it in the morning - fuck, morning.

Tomorrow was tuesday, it was currently 2:37 am and you were on your way to being seriously drunk - so much for being responsible in college. You took out your phone, setting an alarm at 7 am, and looked for your cigarette pack, only to come to the pained conclusion that you must have lost it somewhere inside. You sat down on the wet grass, thinking about how annoyed you’ll be when you’ll have to wash your jeans, and put your head on the wall behind you, sighing.

“You lost your pack.” you heard a deep voice to your right, only to see Shoko’s brunette friend throw you your pack.

“ Holy shit, thanks.” you said, confused and grateful at the same time, while taking out a well-deserved ( or so you told yourself) cigarette. Realizing you had no lighter, you looked at the man with the best puppy eyes you could muster, only for him to roll his eyes.

“You sure looked like you were having fun with Satoru.” he said coldly, almost accusatory.

“ What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” you asked annoyed at his tone. Was he jealous that his friend was actually having fun instead of sulking around like a loser? “Thanks for the lighter.” you added curtly.

“ Nothing.” he stated, lighting his own cigarette, continuing stand at an awkward distance - close enough so you could hear what he was saying, but still far, like you were in first grade all over again and he didn’t want to get caught talking to a girl.

“If you’re not having fun , why are you here?” you said taking a drag and turning towards him.

He laughs - a short, almost bitter laugh. “Who says I’m not having fun?”

You scoff. “Please, you look like you’re one inconvenience away from killing yourself and everyone here.”

“You know, that’s kind of rude to say to someone you’ve just met.” he replied, still not looking at you.

“I have a feeling you’ll get over it pretty fast.” You thought you saw a small smile in the corner of his lips, but it quickly went away. As you finished your cigarette, you looked at the time again, groaned and got up.

“ Thank you for rescuing my pack, Geto. It was nice to meet you.” you uttered, giving him a forced smile and leaving him outside. As you entered the house, Shoko latched onto you.

“ We have class in 4 hours.” she murmured in your year. “We’re fucked.” Exactly your thoughts. You intertwined your hand with hers and exhaled.

“ Let’s go sleep.” you said, mentally preparing yourself for walking drunk and cold back to your dorm. Shoko just hummed and followed your lead, as if you were in a better state than her.

The bed felt like heaven and you quickly drifted away to sleep, with the room slightly spinning, thinking that maybe this wasn’t such a bad start to college.

let me know if you like it!!!!! <333333

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