#my chemical romance x male reader

[anystalker707]

heavy feelings

Pairings: Frank Iero x [gender-neutral] Reader Genre: Light angst / Comfort / Fluff Summary: Longing for each other until finding out you two feel the same for each other. a/n: hey guys i hope i don't regret writing this little thing for mcr after forever away from it, even if this is a sam monroe fic that i adapted for frank iero

MASTER LIST

          Of course, you knew it would rain, seeing the darkness gathering in the distance, the clouds looking heavy and dense, slowly rolling in. Maybe not so slowly. You’d predicted it’d rain later at night, and not right when you had to leave work. Or perhaps, even, you just wanted to convince yourself of it after noticing your umbrella wasn’t in your bag. Leaving your house in a rush during an especially stressful week could do that.

There was nowhere to run to now that you searched for shelter by standing as close to the building as possible, staring at your phone’s screen. With a sigh, you finally texted Frank, receiving a text you didn’t know how to interpret. Still, you waited.

Ten minutes or so had passed when the car finally stopped by the curb, and you quickly rushed through the rain to slip into Frank’s car, which had an almost permanent smell of cigarettes and a hint of the drink Mikey spilled on the back seats some weeks ago. The engine hummed under you as the rain pattered against the window, but not loud enough to drown out the music from the radio, making a comfortable atmosphere that felt like a warm hug after a long day at work.

The gray colors of the sky merged with the city lights, creating distortions through the raindrops that ran down the cars’ windows, and also hiding an otherwise a sky with the colors of the end of the day.

“Am I your Uber now or somethin’?” Frank raised an eyebrow, leaning forward to look down the street before crossing the crossroad, his tongue lightly playing with his lip ring.

You shrugged, adjusting your bag on your feet. “Well, seemed like a good opportunity to see you.” Twisting the knob slowly, you turned the volume up, just enough for the words to be comprehensible.

"Oh don't talk of love" the shadows purrMurmuring me away from you"Don't talk of worlds that never were…

Frank was silent, letting his brain swim in the lyrics, before he exhaled. “Yeah, well, maybe I didn’t want you to see me right now.” Annoyance marred his words, rough with irritation and… something else. “Maybe I just want to be left alone.”

Bitter, as usual. You rolled your eyes, looking out the window with a soft sigh. “Just drop me at my place.”

Frank’s hands tightened around the steering wheel, and he glanced at you. “Wait,” he choked out, his throat suddenly dry. “I didn’t mean that. ‘M sorry. I just…” He huffed. “‘M not good at this.” His hair was a little wet from catching a little rain earlier when getting in the car, and wetting his palm slightly when he tugged on his own strands almost painfully. So fucking stupid. Why couldn’t he just be nice to you? “I don’t want to take you home. I want to spend time with you. Just you.” Hopefully, that waver in his voice was just his mind tricking him.

A sigh. “Whatever. Sure.”

His heart kept beating way too fast. Damn it. Frank hesitantly reached over and grazed your thigh with his hand. He needed to cross that bridge. “Come on,” he mumbled in a softer tone. “Let’s go somewhere. Anywhere.” It wasn’t much of an apology, but he couldn’t do much better now.

Silence stretched, and Frank was hyper-aware of everything. His sweaty palms around the steering wheel, the floor vibrating under his feet, the rain, the music, you. Really, all he did was make things worse. No one ever liked him in such a tender way, so he wasn’t sure how to handle it all. Or even how to communicate nicely.

“You know,” Frank attempted, voice quiet, “I don’t like it when you’re upset with me.” The words felt heavy on his tongue.

Silence stretched again, but not for so long. “I’m not upset with you,” you said softly, suppressing another sigh, observing the inked lines along his skin. “Gloomy weather just makes me feel… down.”

Frank’s jaw clenched as he turned the car, navigating the familiar streets towards his house, keeping his eyes glued on the road because he didn’t know how he’d react if he looked at you. Something thick hung in the air, too sensitive to be touched, causing another silence, but it was heavy and oppressive this time. After he pulled into the driveway, it pushed more upon him as he stared at the distorted image of his house through the windshield. He wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension. But the words wouldn’t come.

Frank fought against whatever seemed to hold him back and reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers together, finding solace in the small touch. “Come inside. Please. I need you.”

The two of you shared a look before you nodded, giving his hand a brief squeeze, then releasing it to leave the car and jog towards the front door together.

Focused on unlocking the door, Frank twisted his mouth faintly. He held it open for you before stepping inside as well, both of you leaving the wet shoes by the door as he unlocked it again. He watched you take off your shoes, feeling his heart twist—it was a sign of comfort, of familiarity. Of home.

The house was quiet, the lights dimmed, a guitar forgotten on the couch. It felt empty, lifeless. Just like Frank felt most of the time. He leaned back against the door and looked at you for a moment, analyzing, looking for something. He knew something troubled you, the sadness was there, even if he couldn’t quite tell the reason, and it made his heart ache, made him want to take it away. How could he have such strong feelings for someone else? His stomach churned.

“Come here.” Frank held out his hand. “Please, I just… I need to hold you.”

Despite your silence, your hand found Frank’s, hesitantly, lacing your fingers together as you stepped closer, and his hand immediately tightened around yours. He slowly wiped away a raindrop that ran down your temple, sighing.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he whispered. “I hate knowing that I can’t take it away, that I can’t make it better.” The closeness allowed him to drink in every detail of your features and burn it in his memory so that he could revisit it later when he was missing you.

You looked away, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’m fine, really. It’s not that bad.”

Frank knew you were lying for your own sake, though it still hurt that you didn’t trust him to comfort you, to make everything better. He let his hands fall to his sides when your grip loosened. The frustration made him want to scream and break everything—he would never do that, not when it could worsen things.

“I know you’re not okay, and I hate that I can’t do anything to change that.” Frank pressed his lips together, nipping his lip ring a little, and stepped back, trying not to seem needy or pushy. “I’m here for you.” It was cliché, something you were probably tired of hearing already, but Frank didn’t know what else to offer, and maybe it worked.

Your eyes softened, and your shoulders dropped. “Don’t worry.”

“Come on,” Frank said before silence reigned again. “Let’s go upstairs. We can watch a movie or somethin’.” His hand found yours before you climbed the stairs, and his hand remained in yours when you left your bag by the corner and tugged you down with him as he flopped on the bed. You landed in a tangle of limbs, with his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you close, and his face buried in your neck to inhale your scent deeply. Home.

Despite not being what you expected, it was easy to relax and let go against Frank, taking in the oddly comforting scent of his bed and returning the embrace, tracing circles into his back—he hummed contently in response.

The little gesture calmed down the furious sea of emotions inside Frank and reduced the world to the little bubble shared by the two of you. Everything was about your warmth and the weight of your arms around him.

Enough time had passed when Frank turned his head to rest it on your shoulder. His fingers tightened around your shirt, as if you’d disappear if he let go. “Turn on a movie, please.” Your shoulder muffled his voice. “Something you like.” All he wanted was to give you a moment free from the weight of the world on your shoulders, and maybe, just maybe, Frank would find and provide solace in the process. “I don’t care what it is. Just pick something.”

Damn. It was hard to choose. You tried to think about something both of you liked and aligned with the atmosphere. None of you would watch it anyway, but the muffled talk under the sound of the rain outside was comforting. Playing with your hair proved to be a lot more interesting to Frank, an intimate and possessive gesture, to him. Mine, his heart whispered.

“Thanks for putting up with me,” Frank muttered quietly. He knew he wasn’t the easiest to be around, and he could be a lot to handle, but you were still there with him. That meant so much. Despite the lack of an answer, his heart melted at seeing you enjoying the touch, pressing your head to his, briefly. It was almost like you were completely his, and Frank almost allowed himself to slip into the daydream of being yours when guilt pushed him back.

The ending song started playing, but Frank remained still, trying to prolong the connection. He had never felt so close to you before, so… exposed. Unlike he had believed, it was peaceful.

Eventually, he pulled back to meet your eyes in the dim lighting of his bedroom. There was so much he wanted to say, but the words stuck in his throat, jumbled and indecipherable. “You should sleep here,” he said, finally, the only words that managed to escape through. “I’ll put an extra blanket on the floor for you.” He wasn’t up to going through the usual bickering of who should take the bed. Most of all, it was an offering, a plea, to have you there while he slipped into the unforgiving embrace of sleep, since he couldn’t have you hold him overnight. “Unless you’d rather go home.”

“I’ll stay. Don’t worry.”

Frank nodded in relief.

The makeshift bed wasn’t the best, but it was the best that Frank could do. If only he could convince you to take the bed. “There,” he exhaled, giving you one of his pillows. “It’s not much, but it’s… comfortable.” He sat back on the mattress. His eyes followed you, observing how his borrowed clothes looked on you and the weight of the day in your eyes. Fuck, he was so lucky to still have you there with him. “Thank you,” he said, because it was all he could do without feeling like he would fall apart. “For staying, for being here, for… everything.” He wanted to say more. It wasn’t the time, though. He didn’t think it was the moment.

“It’s fine. It’s not something you need to thank me for.” You adjusted the pillow on the ground before lying down and pulling a blanket over yourself. It smelled like Frank. The rain still poured outside, comforting and daunting at the same time. “Good night.”

Frank watched you in silence, nodding, and swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Good night,” he mumbled. He dimmed down the light on the nightstand, leaving the room in a soft, cozy darkness, a little envious that you fell asleep faster, but he knew the day had been harsher on you. The weight in his chest held Frank awake, and he couldn’t help but roll on his side to observe you. There was not much to see in the darkness, but he could make out the rise and fall of your chest in a peaceful rhythm that lulled him into a sense of security—a false one.

If only you cuddled with him to sleep. Frank reached out, letting his fingertips graze your arm in a whisper of a caress, allowing himself to imagine a scenario in which you fall asleep in each other’s arms. He doesn’t want to wake you because of his silly daydreams, especially not when you’re finally allowed to rest.

With a heavy sigh, Frank forced himself to withdraw his hand and let you sleep undisturbed, averting his attention to the ceiling. He’d just settle down for the comfort of your presence with the knowledge that, even if not enough, it was more than he deserved. Among the mess of thoughts and feelings, he could finally fall asleep.

Panic rose in his chest when Frank noticed the empty spot beside his bed, but then he saw you standing by the window, with your hands on the windowsill, watching the rain, and his heart calmed down. He sat up with a yawn, leaving smeared makeup on his fingers with rubbing his eyes. The sight of you standing there filled him with a strange sense of peace.

Frank swung his legs over the bed's side before standing up and as much as he wanted to walk over, he preferred to rush to the bathroom and at least take a piss and wash his mouth before anything. Given the situation of it, he presumed you’d been awake for longer than he thought.

Finally, Frank returned and approached you, standing close enough so that your shoulders touched. “Morning,” he mumbled, voice still rough with sleep. “You slept well?” He blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the sleep in his eyes. “Coffee? I can make some if you want.”

You observed him for a moment before finally shaking your head. “Morning. The floor isn’t so bad.” You paused. “We can have some coffee later.”

“So, what’s the plan for today?” Frank prayed you wouldn’t mention anything about leaving. He hoped there wouldn’t be any last-minute band practice today. Spending so much time with you was… nice. More than nice, actually. It was everything he had been wanting lately.

Rain kept pattering against the window. It was a soothing sound he found himself soothing into. He tilted his head, pressing his nose to the cold glass, and his heart fluttered at the chuckle he snatched from you. “We could…” His mind raced with the possibilities. He didn’t know. Whatever you wanted, as long as you two spent time together.

“There’s not much we can do.” You shrugged, averting your eyes to the outside again, watching the puddles. “And you? Slept well?”

Frank looked over at you, nodding faintly. “Mm, yeah.” Sleepiness still clung to his voice, but he couldn’t fight the feeling that came along with rainy days. He decided to indulge in his wishes and slide an arm around your waist, relishing the closeness, humming as he buried his face in your shoulder for a moment before following your gaze outside the window. He felt like melting when you held him in return. “We can watch a movie. I’ll even let you have the remote.”

For some reason, Frank felt clingy, unable to hold himself back from tightening his arms around you, basking in the warmth of your skin that seeped through your—his—clothes. He’d never felt this close to you, and maybe you felt the same.

Your nose pressed to his cheek, breath tickling his skin. “Sounds good.”

Frank wanted nothing more than to turn his head and meet your lips, but he restrained himself. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he mumbled with a soft sigh. Words heaved on his tongue like lead, at the same time they prickled in a plea to be freed. “Y’know, I love you.” While he pulled away to look at you in the eyes, he was already making up a thousand excuses in his mind, but all of them vanished once his eyes met yours, and he winced.

“I… ‘m sorry,” Frank said, anxiety coiling in his gut, and he wanted to spill a thousand words to justify himself, but nothing ever came. His brain short-circuited the moment you leaned in and simply kissed him, the sensation so much more intense and better than anything he could’ve imagined.

A soft sound escaped Frank’s throat when he finally returned the kiss, adjusting his grip around you, taking in every detail—your breath fanning over his philtrum, your eyelashes brushing against his cheek, your hands on his shoulders, his lip ring between your lips, everything. The doubts and worries melted away shamefully easily, calming down his heart in a way he’d never felt before.

Only a few seconds and eternity had simultaneously passed when the kiss came to an end, and Frank looked at you again, his mind a lot quieter now, lips tingling. He felt so safe in your embrace, fuck.

“I love you, too, okay?” You mumbled, kissing his cheek, and he couldn’t help but smile, burying his face in your shoulder.

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

[spittingbloodandscreaming]

Vampire!Cis Male Reader x Vampire Obsessed!Gerard Way and can he like be all pathetically horny and just super down bad for the reader. Maybe some humping + reader biting and feeding from Gerard? thanks.

p.s. this part's totally optional but can u do like dick size difference as well? like Reader cuz he's a vampire has a huge dick but Gerard has a bit of a smaller 1 and maybe do some degrading based off that if u do it?

@pinkfor3stt merry Christmas. You didn't get everything you wanted but yk I do your dishes so I think you're fine

Bound to Happen Eventually (Gerard Way x Male Vampire Reader smut)

The TV is bright in the dark living room, flickering colors across the two of you on the couch. Gerard whines, starting up his fit again. “C'monn.” He's practically wrapped around you. He has your leg between his thighs, hugging you from the side so tight your ribs might crack. You pry his head away from you.

“No, I'm not letting you do that. Weirdo.” Gerard has been begging you to, please, just once, feed off of him. It's dangerous. It's weird. He's your boyfriend, he's a partner, he is not food. You will not put him down to that level. That's terrible, that's disrespectful. It's—

“It's hot,” Gerard grabs your shirt, looking up at you with wide, pleading eyes. God, he's like a toddler. Similarly, he does not give up when he wants something. Gerard has been bothering you about this for the entirety of the movie the two of you have been watching. Really though, you’ve been trying to watch the film and Gerard has been trying to get in your pants. Your ‘vamp-pants’ as he has begun to call them.

Finally, the credits roll on the screen and you are unsatisfied. “C’mon dude, I have zero clue what happened that whole movie because of your… shenanigans.” You huff, rolling your eyes and turning off the TV, encapsulating the area in darkness, before moving to turn on the lamp next to the couch. The bulb is delayed turning on, but eventually, after a few off and ons, illuminates. When the room is lit again, Gerard lets go of you and shifts up on the couch. Sitting up properly, he puts his arm over your shoulder.

“You’re beautiful y’know, looking extra… gray today.” Gerard bats his eyelashes, supposedly to seduce you, but it just makes him look like someone unexpectedly maced him. “Have you eaten recently?” Gerard says with a sly smile—he thinks that was the smoothest thing anyone has ever said. It was, instead, mildly insulting. Before you can do anything more than scoff and roll your eyes, the lightbulb in the lamp flickers for the last time before dying, blacking out the living room.

“God dammit,” you mutter. That was the last lightbulb, and the one in the ceiling light has been out for weeks. You knew you shouldn’t have put off buying another pack until they were on sale. Gerard slides his arm off of your shoulder and onto your thigh, you feel him leaning closer to you, laying his head on your shoulder. You sigh, going limp against the couch. Realistically, the lack of light does not affect you, but you are no less defeated.

Gerard rubs your thigh, turning towards you and grabbing your face with his other hand. He gently rubs your cheek with his thumb, leaning in for a kiss to which you happily oblige. As the kiss ends, Gerard is the first to pull away. He swings his legs up onto the couch, folding them to the side. The hand he has on your face falls to your shoulder. “Y’know, if there’s nothing else to do—” You interrupt Gerard, taking his hand from your shoulder with yours.

“We can always, y’know, go to bed.” You bring his hand, palm up, to your lips, kissing right on the pulse of his wrist. He smells like raw meat and old, sticky soda. Gerard snickers, he might as well be kicking his legs and twirling his hair.

“I was gonna say we could fool around a bit, since it’s only, what, nine?”

“Babe it’s two A.M.,” you quirk a confused eyebrow—not that it matters—even with the curtains drawn, there's barely enough light in the room to make out the outline of the couch. You, though, can see the whole of Gerard's flushed and impatient expression. You let the hand holding his fall to your lap.

“Well, I’m not tired. And I know you aren’t.” You push a scruffy chunk of hair behind his ear, pitying his desparateness. Gerard shifts, swinging his legs over your lap and falling back onto the couch all in one swift movement. He throws a hand against his forehead and sighs dramatically. You laugh, and while you aren’t particularly enjoying his performance, you can’t say you aren’t at least a little amused. He dramatically sighs again as you lift his legs off of yours, but your attempt to stand is interrupted by Gerard whining.

 “Where are you going?” He sits up, leaning against the arm of the couch and tucking his knees to his chest.

“To get a drink, which I assume I’m allowed to do as someone with free will?” You stand, taking a second to stretch after sitting for two hours.

“Why would you need to get up to do that?” Gerard asks, his wide eyes are a bright contrast to the dark of the living room around the two of you. You roll your eyes, a painfully obvious setup, but you let it happen nonetheless. “I mean, I’m right here.” Gerard gestures to himself like he’s some fancy display car, and as bad as his pickup line was you can’t help but laugh.

“Oh my, I think you’re correct, your pure, virgin blood has to be better than even the finest of tap water we have here, right?” Still laughing, you play into the bit more by pouncing on him, grabbing a sturdy mouthful of t-shirt near his shoulder. Gerard laughs, rolling the two of you onto the floor with a thud. Gerard is on top of you, straddling your hips for just a second before you push the both of you back over. You’re on top of him, shaking your head back and forth like a dog playing tug-a-war. Gerard’s laugh fizzles out into heavy breathing—right as you look up to check in with him, he shoves his thumbs into the corners of your mouth, using it as leverage to pry your mouth open. The two of you are so close that even in the dark he can make out most of the details of what he’s seeing, and he just stares.

“Woah..” You wonder what he could find so fascinating about your mouth, but then you feel it. Running your tongue over your teeth, you learn that your fangs must’ve popped during your play fight. You don’t think Gerard has ever seen you like that. Not with your knowledge, anyway. At the beginning of your relationship, he was trying especially hard to watch you drink things. Gerard slowly takes his hands out of your mouth, moving to push himself, and due to your position, you, up. Gerard sits on his knees, and you’re cross-legged not a foot away from him. You can’t close your mouth properly with your fangs out, and you aren’t the best at making them revert. In turn, you're left staring at Gerard with your mouth open awkwardly, forced into bearing your teeth like a middle schooler with headgear.

While you aren’t in your comfort zone, Gerard seems to be thriving. He has his hand on both sides of your head, looking at you up close. He shifts the angle of your head a few times to see if there's any way to catch the light on your teeth better. If he could put you under a microscope, he would. Being this close to you in this state is utterly exhilarating for him. This alone, he thinks, is better than sex.

Wait. You’re his boyfriend. For a second he had forgotten that, along with being a vampire, being in front of him, and having your tubular teeth out, you are his boyfriend. It’s that realization that prompts him to pull your face down to his and kiss you rather aggressively. He takes it upon himself to shove his tongue into your mouth, and you can’t do much more than let him. Most of your attention is going into making sure Gerard doesn’t end up cutting himself on any of your teeth. But even a perfectly paved road can still lead to hell. However, this road wasn’t exactly perfectly paved. This was bound to happen. Gerard, being seemingly deliberate, slices his tongue open on one of your elongated canines. Gerard abruptly pulls away, putting his hand to his mouth to inspect the damage like he didn’t think cutting himself would hurt. For you though, the switch has already flipped like throwing a brick on a hair trigger. 

Twilight may have been wrong about the disco ball skin and the porcelain-sounding kisses, but they were right about self-control being learned. You just hadn’t exactly been in many situations where restraint on this level was necessary, and Gerard has sufficiently gained a huge strobing target. Whatever morals you had about not ‘bringing him down to that level’ were most certainly gone the second you tasted his blood. When you look up at Gerard, he’s wide-eyed with a mouth full of blood. You move faster than you knew your body was able to, grabbing him by both of his cheeks and crashing your mouth into his, not stopping to process anything past the extended taste of blood, his blood, in your mouth.

Gerard was right, you were hungry. You were starved. And now you were the one with your tongue down his throat, grabbing at his hair and squeezing his hips. It's exhilarating, to now be able to say that you've had every part of him, the essence of his being. Your mouth is full—full of teeth, full of his blood, but it's not enough. You need more of him. You need to be able to have every tangible piece of him. The only thing that pulls you out of your trance-like state is Gerard pulling his new patented move; slotting his thumbs into the sides of your mouth like a horse bit and pushing you away. He’s huffing, his blood smeared all over his face. He moves to hold your head in place like a normal person. Gerard leans up and kisses you, brushing a stray hair out of your face as he pulls away. He’s gorgeous—ethereal, even. There’s so much soul behind his eyes, and you’re glad you can experience being with him. He lets go of your face, lowering his hands to help you out of your pants. 

Gerard is in love with you, wholly and completely. You’re gorgeous to him, the most handsome man he’s ever seen. Being undressed by your hands is a privilege he’s honored to be graced with. He's never loved you more, even with shaky hands and dark eyes. Vulnerability is beautiful on you, and he’s glad he’s the one who gets to see it.

With Gerard naked beneath you, you realize that maybe the blood thing should be more regular. Gerard is clearly enjoying himself, his cock is hard and throbbing, dripping precum. From a less heartfelt perspective, he was right, this is hot as hell. You’re sure his tongue is still bleeding, too, since there’s a steady stream of blood dripping down his chin and tailing down his neck. It's making his hair sticky. Both of you will need a shower after this.

You grab the base of Gerard’s dick, languidly dragging your hand up his shaft as you give him another drool-soaked kiss. He’s panting into your mouth already—the little stimulation you’re providing him being amplified by the lengthy delay of the gratification. Gerard snakes his hand into your hair, grabbing a handful at the back of your head. He jerks his hips up, fucking himself further into your hand. You pull away from the kiss to scold him, but before you open your mouth to talk Gerard shoves your face into his neck. Your interrupted complaint turns into a muffled groan. His scent is so heavy, so strong it’s borderline intoxicating.

You lick a wet line up from Gerard’s collarbone to the base of his jaw and after a few gentle kisses, he tugs your hair roughly. “God, was dry-humping me not foreplay enough? Just fuck me already!” Gerard tightens his grip on your hair, throwing his other arm around your waist. It’d be criminal to refuse such a kind request. You smile against his neck, lining yourself up. There’s enough accumulated bodily fluids to make your entrance easy enough, but Gerard still squeals as you bottom out. He’s drooling before you even set the pace. You try to start slow and ease Gerard into it, but when he yanks your head back and starts bossing you around, you can tell that’s not what he wants. You lift him a few inches off the floor, holding him flush against you with your arms against his waist.

Having Gerard pressed up to you gives you the leverage to really fuck into him. He’s gone braindead now, his eyes rolling back into his head and bloody spit dripping down his cheek. If you could think straight you’d be worried for your neighbors—Gerard is almost screaming. His moans are high-pitched and girlish, his body is so warm. Gerard is the most fragrant thing in the room—waiting for him is like waiting for food at a restaurant right next to the kitchen—every second that passes your hunger becomes more insatiable. His hard-on is rubbing against your stomach, making him writhe in pleasure. You’d notice if you could focus on anything but the fresh smell of iron. You’re getting lost in him. You know you have to hold out but you don’t know if you can. You shouldn’t be this worried about cumming too quickly, Gerard barely makes it past five minutes most days, but you’re just so overwhelmed you can't help it. You’ve been gradually getting more intense, speeding up, practically fucking on autopilot.

You have your face buried in the crook of Gerard’s neck, you’re huffing him like an addict. Time is a lost idea to you. You have no idea how long you’ve been inside of him, let alone what time it is. You tune back into reality because of Gerard hitting your back. You’re sticky with cum, a lot of it. You slow to a stop, setting Gerard down on the floor with care. He’s crying and his legs are shaking, for a second you’re worried you hurt him. Gerard is panting, verging on hyperventilating. He reaches a hand up to wipe his face, smearing his blood over more of his flushed skin.

“Jesus Christ babe,” Gerard huffs, sprawling his arms out across the floor. He turns his head to look at you, half-naked in a shirt soaked in his cum. In retrospect, you definitely should’ve taken your shirt off, but he’s not going to mention it. He thinks you look rather nice covered in his mess. Gerard takes his time gathering his composure on the floor. After a few moments, his breathing goes back to normal. He feels great like he just finished a workout, even though he did almost nothing aside from sitting there and looking pretty while you fucked him senseless. He bled, too. That took a lot of work on his part.

After a few more minutes of Gerard lying on the floor and you sitting cross-legged next to him, he sits up. He moves closer to you, making it so your thighs touch as he gingerly pulls your face down to his, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. Gerard reaches a hand up to play with your hair. He sighs happily, leaning against you. “You were on a roll, weren’t you? I didn’t mean to cut you off.” His voice is light and tremulous. Gerard drops his hand from your hair down to your back, rubbing lightly between your shoulder blades. “Maybe as an apology, I can suck you after you’re done sucking me.” When you look at him he’s smiling, acting like the cat that caught the canary. You can’t help but laugh.

“That one was bad, Gerard. Shamefully so.” Gerard just kisses you, putting a hand on your thigh for leverage to push himself up. The blood around his mouth has mostly dried, and his tongue has mostly stopped bleeding. As he separates from the kiss the hand on your thigh slips, landing an ‘accidental’ hand around your still semi-hard cock. 

“Maybe,” Gerard says, idly jerking you off with his head lying on your shoulder. “But you know what’s worse? The fact you aren’t drinking my pure, virgin blood right now.” You breathe in sharply. He’s not teasing you per se, but whatever Gerard is doing is making you playfully vengeful. You hum, grabbing his wrist and gently pulling his hand away from your crotch. Swiftly, you pull Gerard into your lap, one arm under his knees and the other supporting his back. He giggles, throwing his head. He throws a dramatic hand against his forehead and puts on his best damsel in distress voice. “Oh, no! Please don’t hurt me!” Gerard faux begs, and you think he’s adorable. You lean into him, messily kissing up and down his neck. You playfully bite right over where his pulse is strongest, earning yourself a gasp, and upon the realization, you didn’t go all the way, a dirty look.

“I’m not sure if you know how much this kind of thing really hurts my love,” you say, snickering at Gerard's glare.

“Babe, I want this. I know it’ll hurt, and if anyone was going to hurt me like this I want it to be you, okay?” Gerard would let you rip open his throat with his teeth if you wanted to. He’s thought about it a few times, even. In an alternate universe where that wouldn’t kill him, he’d like to try it out, but that’s a thought tangent for another day. Right now he has to focus on persuading you with his big ol’ doe eyes. You respond to his puppy-like begging by kissing in the center of his collarbones. You cradle Gerard’s head in your hand before moving your mouth to the side of his neck. His skin is so warm and he’s so small beneath you, it’s like holding a lamb in your arms. So fragile and full of possibility. And like the lamb, willingly drawn to the altar for slaughter, you draw your teeth back and pierce them into his soft pale flesh.

Gerard makes the sound commonly associated with vampire bites; a sharp cry followed by a strangled moan. He claws his nails into your back and grabs a fist full of your hair with the other hand. He handles it well, though. His initial scream is short-lived, reduced to audible heaving after a few seconds. The feeling of your teeth in his neck is incomparable to anything he’s ever felt before—a sharp fiery pain in his neck that’s so foreign to him, so dirty and abstract, it almost feels good. He feels so close to you. He feels like he’s completely and entirely yours. 

Right now you feel like you finally understand the homoeroticism of drinking another man’s blood. It’s messier than a kiss, more intimate than sex, more romantic than a hickey. It’s the epitome of intimacy, and you’re doing it with him. You are drinking Gerard Way’s blood. Gerard's blood feels boiling in your mouth, thick, and smooth. It’s a dark metallic syrup dripping down your throat and pinking your monochrome skin.

Gerard’s neck goes slack and his eyes roll back, and as you separate from his neck, licking up the final few beads of blood that bubble out of the two red punctures standing out against his grayed white skin, you see that Gerard must’ve found equivalence to you sucking his blood to you sucking something else. Now with the mess of several orgasms on the two of you, Gerard lies partially limp in your arms. His chest rises and falls rhythmically at a slow and predictable pace. His eyes are closed and his lips are parted so perfectly, and god must’ve read your mind because the clouds part, letting moonlight shine through the window and highlight his features perfectly. He’s like a doll in your arms, perfect and untouched by the world around you. There’s nothing beyond this moment, and if you could, you’d bottle it and hold it forever.

You stand up, heaving Gerard up, pressing his side flush to your chest. He smiles softly, leaning his head into your upper arm. As you carry him to the bedroom, carefully maneuvering the dark hallway and pushing the door open with your shoulder. Kicking aside stray clothes on the floor, making yourself a path to the bed, you lay Gerard down on the mattress. He’s quick to stretch out and make himself comfortable. You take your already gross shirt off, throwing it to Gerard to wipe himself off with. You walk around to your side of the bed, rolling in under the blankets. You scoot up next to Gerard right as he makes an unimpressive shot for the hamper near the door. Your shirt hits the wall about a foot away, falling to the floor unceremoniously. You let out a kind sigh, shaking your head as you wrap your arms around Gerard’s waist and pull him against you. 

“So are you going to make do with your promise?” You say with a smirk audible in your voice. You rest your chin on top of Gerard’s head, and peaking through the sheer curtains in the bedroom you see the orange sliver of a sunrise.

“Tomorrow babe,” Gerard whispers, already half asleep.

[c-bunnee]

just saying I would marry Carmel if he lets me paint his nails black 💅

Snaps 🧩 ×1/3

C A R M E L.

"Let's select some bridal gowns after this, please, please..."

2 more Requested illustrations to go! And I'm on my way making official art of Mr Vallias here <3

[fruityfics]

~Blog Introduction~

Hi, I’m Felix (he/him) and this is my gayass fanfic blog🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

Im mainly known on here for my other blogs: felix-floyd, lucifers-slutty-waist, bulletsforyourtrain, and geefrankieroway.

I’m a 20 year old trans man who loves reading fanfics, but hate that all the male ones are x fem!reader, and I’m sure I’m not the only one. So I’m dedicating this blog to writing fanfics that are x male!reader, x transmasc!reader, x male!oc, male character x male character, etc.

I can do SFW or NSFW

And I am planning on taking requests eventually!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

People/characters I plan on writing for:

Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss:

~ Lucifer

~ Alastor

~ Vox

~ Angel Dust

~ Husk

Game Grumps/NSP:

~ Dan Avidan

~ Danny Sexbang

~ Alex Taylor

~ Arin Hansen

~ Ryland Tate

~ Ninja Brian

~ Ryan Magee

~ TWRP members

My Chemical Romance:

~ Gerard Way

~ Frank Iero

~ Mikey Way

~ Ray Toro

~ Party Poison

~ Fun Ghoul

~ Kobra Kid

~ Jet Star

Bullet Train:

~ Tangerine

~ Ladybug

~ Lemon

Umbrella Academy:

~ Klaus

~ Five

~ Diego

~ Viktor

~ Hazel

Other:

- Markiplier

~ Jeremy Jordan

~ Jack Kelly

~ Luigi (Mario movie version💚)

~ Bowser (also Mario movie)

~ Deadpool

- Beetlejuice

- Link

- Revali

~ Dylan Fuentes (Deadrising 3, look him up I love him)

~ And more if I feel like it🙃

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Of course, a lot of these would be upon request and I could do more in those fandoms if requested, or even other fandoms if I know them. I wanna do a little bit of everything so everyone has a place to go for good mlm fanfics and not be triggered reading she/her pronouns when reading x readers <3 <3 <3

Stay tuned for the fics!

[gghoulishdelight]

"At the End of the World, or the Last Thing You See.."

pairing: mikey x gn!reader x ray

genre: fluff xtreme!!

a/n; based off of a dream i had, except not ghost of u mikey cuz i dont want him to die

/ look at these nerds<33 luv them /

"micheal james way, stop messing with your hair before i pin your hands down!"

mikey jumps at the stern sound of your voice coming from the entrance of his dressing room, a sheepish look on his face as he meets your glare through the mirror he's facing. he couldn't help himself, he was nervous and he didn't feel as if his hair looked like it should, but then again, he wasn't all that interested in costume design like you were. you technically weren't their costume designer, but you were definitely the one who ran around making sure everything looked according to plan when they had photoshoots and videos. his hands drop back down to his sides under your stern glare before you have the chance to make your threat come into fruition, his face turning the slightest bit pink as he heard gerard's giggles echoing from their own dressing room. god, he's never going to hear the end of this.

"if you would stop messing with your hair, you wouldn't have to be teased by your brother and i could finally help ray get his hair into a ponytail before you lot have t' go onstage," you scold the taller way brother while you fix his hair in place again, having to stand on your tiptoes the tiniest bit so you can reach. speak of the devil, mikey thinks as ray pops his head into the room, curious to know what's being said about himself. he grins at mikey through the mirror, silently giggling at how silly the two of you look right now and venturing into the room further.

"i heard my name, what's up?" ray's gentle voice draws your attention away from mikey for the time being, your face softening as you look at him and smile sweetly. ray always had a calming effect on both his partners, no matter the situation.

"nothin', just your boyfriend here can't seem to stop messin' with his costume long enough that i can help you get ready," you tease a little more lightheartedly this time, earning a little grin from mikey. he stays quiet as you trail your hands down from fixing his hair to gently cupping his cheeks, only letting out a little hum of content when you reward him with a gentle peck on the lips.

ray clicks his tongue in mock disappointment as he wiggles his way behind you, resting his chin atop your head and wrapping his arms around your midsection to pull you in close. "let me guess, you already threatened to pin his hands down?" he teases with a grin, only to giggle when you turn your head away from them both to try and hide the blush dancing on your cheeks. mikey takes this as a chance to start peppering soft kisses along the side of your neck, smiling at the way you try to squirm out of ray's grasp.

"guysss, c'mon! you gotta go out in 15, and i still needa fix up ray!" you complain in a whine, yet there's no actual bite behind your words, just soft love and warmth for the two. they end up letting you go after a few more seconds of affection, but only after mikey steals one last kiss from you.

"thank you," he whispers almost silently, taking your hand and tapping thrice on your palm, his silent way of saying 'i love you' when he didn't have the words to say it aloud. you just smile, tapping back and grinning widely at the way his eyes light up at your understanding. you don't think you'll ever get over the way he seems so fascinated with you responding in turn. he and ray share a kiss before you tug ray out of the room, only to be met with gerard and frank mockingly 'making out' (aka pretending to kiss and moan while also giggling their asses off) outside of frank's room, clearly pretending like something unholy had been happening between the three of you. you just sigh and bite back a grin, ignoring ray's noise of protest at their actions as you drag him away from the scene and into his own room, only to blush furiously at frank's shouts of "use protection!".

you don't know what you'd do without these guys, even if they tormented you to no end.

[lunarwritesthings]

Who Did It

Paring: Gerard Way x M!Oc

Fandom: My Chemical Romance

Request: Yes, by anon

Summary: Gerard learns that his boyfriend is hurt and demands to know who did it, so he can "talk" to them.

Prompt: #47 “Who did this to you?”

Note: The nickname sugar is used because I've seen so many people use it in gee fics that I feel it fits. Gerard is referred to as Gee and Colton is referred to by Col at times.

Warning: Bruises and blood is mentioned!

It's well known that Gerard is shy and extremely nice but what's basically unknown is Gee is a totally different person when someone he loves is hurt. Then he's ready to fight the whole world if he has to.

There's one specific person he'd drop everything for. That person is his love, better known as his boyfriend. Gerard would refuse to go anywhere without him, that included tour. Gee and Colton were inseparable. This was not surprised those close to them. Gee and Col had been together for 3 almost 4 years. They were super important to each other.

Now, normally Colton can protect himself and fight back if he's expecting something to happen. That why the day so-called "fans" decided to hurt Colton simply because they were jealous and apparently Colton "wasn't good enough for Gerard". No one was prepared for what was about to ensue. Let's just say there one rule the band has. That being DO NOT mess with Colton.

It took Gee a while to learn about Colton being hurt because it happened while the band was on stage. Gerard learned about what happened when a voice came through on his in-ears. Gee was immediately filled with anger. He wanted to know who dare hurt his sugar. Mikey, Frank, and Ray knew just off Gerard's mood changed that something had happened to Col and they knew this wasn't going to end well.

The concert was close to being over. The guys were in between songs and on a short break so Ray, Mikey, and Frank had used this time to check on Gee and see what happened to Col. Gee didn't answer the question of how he was he just told them that Colton had gotten hurt. Of course, this upset them. They weren't as upset as Gee well except Frank, but they were still upset.

To Mikey, Col was like the young brother he never got. Mike was honestly surprised Col wasn't truly his brother yet but he wasn't going to rush Colton or Gerard. He cared about both of them a lot. They were part of his family. His main worry was knowing how hurt Colton was. He didn't care about who did it. He wanted to make sure Col was okay.

Ray being the dad of the group was trying to calm down Gee but he was worried about Col as well. He knew something was wrong when he didn't Col in the front row like normal. Now to Ray, Colton was a best friend and almost a son. Col always went to Ray when he needed advice because he knew Raw would listen and try his best to help. They were aware of the father/son bond but didn't care.

Frank was on the same level as Gee on being angry. He wanted to know who dare had the fucking audacity to hurt Colton. Colton was probably Frank's best friend. They had bonded over so much. Frank and Colton may not be related but they sure as hell acted like brothers. Frank was big on being there for Col even if that meant defending him from people because rude to him simply because he was gay and trans. Colton was Frank's not-so-little buddy. That meant if someone hurt col then they better start running because karma was coming.

Once the concert was over Gee and Frank immediately ran to the medical area to check on col and find out who did it. Ray and Mikey shared a look before following the other two to make sure they didn't go crazy and to make sure Frank and Gerard didn't try and murder anyone.

When Ray and Mikey got to the medical area they were shocked when they saw col. Col had a lot of bruises and a quite a bit of blood coming from his nose. Gerard was beyond angry. He had one question. "Who did this to you?". Simple yet not so much for Colton. Did he really want to tell the band that "fans" of theirs did this? Of course, he didn't but col didn't have much of a choice. One Colton told them, they all had different reactions.

Gerard's reaction hadn't changed much but Colton could see the disappointment in his eyes. Frank? He was furious. people who called themselves had the audacity to hurt Col over stupid jealousy and a stupid opinion.

Ray was just fully disappointed. There were people that were fans of theirs that were willing to hurt someone that made Gee happy. He couldn't understand. Mikey was sad and disappointed. It made Mike sad that people told col that he wasn't enough for gee yet Mikey has never seen gee more happy and more himself. Mike was disappointed in the fact they felt like they were Dan's.

Gerard had picked up Colton the second he was free to go. Until Col was fully healed Gee wasn't letting his sugar leave his sight. Deep down Gerard was scared of this happening again. Ray and Mikey worked on calming down Frank and worked on a tweet to post about the situation because it needed to be talked about.

Gee had gently put Col in their shared bunk and knew that col was shaken up and needed comfort. Knowing this Gee was careful but laid down next to Col and let col cuddle into his side. Gerard refused to sleep just in case Colton needed something.

Colton wasn't going to be in bad shape for long only a few days. By the time Col was healed the band had made a tweet about the situation and thank to the help of the fans they found the ones that hurt Colton. They were rightfully banned from all shows and events where My Chemical Romance would be. At the end of the day karma had gotten the "fans" and Col was alright and safe.

[the-rarest-sexiest-coinkydink]

*breathing heavily*

Vampire Mikey. Male reader. please-

*collapses*

I ran all the way here

Boy, You Look Like Death (But Healthy Guys are Such an Eyesore) - (Mikey Way x male!reader) 

Summary: Mikey’s really been struggling to find the right time to come out to his boyfriend. Not as gay, obviously - it would be a bit concerning if he didn’t know that by now - but as a vampire. Unfortunately for him, he’s the least subtle person in the world, and his boyfriend has more than two brain cells to rub together... 

Word count: 2790 

Warnings: very brief mention of drugs and alcohol (no use by either Mikey or the reader) 

AN: take a moment to catch your breath, dear requester! Recover from that run of yours and enjoy the sweet little tale under the cut 

Also, this title is taken from a song called Eyesore by a band called Salem, they’re a kick ass band and you should definitely go and listen to them because all of their songs are just a wee bit slutty and very vampire-y (the frontman also leads Creeper, one of my favourite ever bands and the loves of my life, and they also slap and you should absolutely listen to them too) 

Anyway that’s enough trying to brainwash you into loving my favourite bands too, on with the story! 

(y/n) knew for a fact that Mikey had no idea that he knew that he was a vampire. The poor, gorgeous boy had been trying incredibly hard not to give the game away, but by the fifth date it had been pretty obvious. And they’d been a couple for three whole months now. So he’d known for a while. 

It had been lots of little things together that made him add all the pieces up and come to the right conclusion - it was the only one that made sense. They’d been to an Italian place for the third date, and Mikey had needed to take some tablets before eating. He claimed he had a slight intolerance to garlic, which (y/n) had believed at the time. There were stranger things to be allergic to, after all, and lots of people were allergic to stuff that others might find surprising. Another thing was, Mikey had only ever taken him on dates after nightfall. This had been explained away by the fact that, as he was in a band, a lot of his life happened at night! Before the dark came he would stay in whichever venue they were performing in, declining offers to go out for food with the excuse that he wasn’t hungry. He often woke up late in the day anyway, given that the parties he’d go to after the shows were over would last until the early hours of the morning. It wasn’t that much of a surprise that he was a little nocturnal. 

But other things in combination had started to make him wonder. Mikey got sunburnt very easily. He hated having his photo taken, blaming it on his insecurities, and photos of him never seemed to come out clearly. There was always some kind of blur, or fuzziness, or strange shadow falling across his face that obscured his features. He was the same around mirrors, always turning his head away whenever he walked past. The first few times, (y/n) had believed the insecurity theory; there’d been times in his life when the thought of looking at his own face for any extended period of time had made him uncomfortable too. 

Then one day, he’d stumbled across an online forum aimed at freshly minted vampires - yes, he’d been surprised to see that they actually existed, too - and everything had started to make sense. For one, Mikey was incredibly pale, and had a bone structure that could almost be called skeletal. He always looked a little bit sickly, like a Victorian child recovering from some deathly illness. It suited him, really - some people just suited being whiter than a sheet of paper - but it definitely made more sense when the vampire idea was applied. Gerard was nowhere near as pale unless he was wearing his stage makeup, and their parents were fairly ordinary in terms of skin tone, so it was one of the most logical explanations. And whenever he stayed over at his flat, he had a mysterious habit of disappearing in the middle of the night for relatively long periods of time. His reasoning for this, when (y/n) had sleepily begged him not to leave again one morning, was that he often had nightmares and didn’t want to wake his lover up. So he would go and hide in the bathroom to calm down before coming back. Again, if it had been that excuse on it’s own, (y/n) probably would’ve believed it in a heartbeat - but along with everything else, it just made his suspicions even greater. 

Now all he had to do was wait for him to come clean about it. 

(y/n) really didn’t want to start that conversation - there was still a miniscule chance that he was wrong, and he really didn’t want to imagine the argument that incorrectly accusing his boyfriend of being a vampire would cause. And unlike his past relationships, this one was going incredibly well! He really didn’t want to risk ruining this over something like that. So his plan was just to wait - either until Mikey slipped up and did something that would make it obvious, or until he flat out admitted it. 

The conversation finally happened one night after a post-show party. They’d been at someone’s house who’s name they’d forgotten before the two of them had even got in the door - it belonged to a friend of a friend of one of the crew, from memory, but there had been so many different people there that names had slipped away like smoke in the breeze. In any case, the two of them had spent most of the time loitering in corners with the rest of the band or tucked away with their tongues down each other’s throats, so it wasn’t like anyone else really mattered. Everyone was sweaty after being packed into a tiny venue all night, and the vast majority of the room was drunk out of their minds. (y/n) was pretty sure that he’d seen some questionable substances being passed around in the corridors - and he knew for certain that Frank had gone outside to join the group smoking weed - but neither he nor Mikey were too interested in that. In fact, the pair of them were pretty much sober, just riding out the adrenaline high that had come from the evening’s gig. 

They’d been together for almost the whole evening, only separating so that Mikey could go to the bathroom. He’d been gone almost fifteen minutes by the time he came back, but that didn’t worry (y/n) at all. He simply assumed that there was a queue, or that his lover had felt unwell and used it as an excuse to get a breather away from everyone for a few moments. When he’d returned, there was something visibly different. His eyes shone a little brighter, there was a new confidence in his step. Something had changed. And he had an idea of what. 

The two of them had left not long after that, craving a cosy evening in with each other, and on the walk home (y/n) spotted the perfect in to that mammoth topic he’d been dancing around for the last few months. There was a little dark smudge at the corner of Mikey’s mouth. And whenever they passed underneath a street lamp, that tiny mark flashed a deep red. The colour of blood. 

Mikey had fed at the party. 

Deciding to wait until they got back to his flat, (y/n)’s heart raced beneath his ribs for the rest of the short walk. His idea was pretty much completely confirmed now, but he still wasn’t exactly sure how to approach things. Saying things the wrong way could still cause a fight even if he was correct in his deductions, and that was the last thing he wanted. 

He switched the light on in the living room, and an idea flashed into his mind like the spark of electricity illuminating the filaments in the bulb. 

“Oh, Mikey! I think you’ve chewed through your lip, baby. There’s some blood on your chin.” 

It didn’t seem physically possible for Mikey to get any paler than he possibly was already, but in this light it really looked like the rest of the blood had drained out of his face. “W-what?” 

“Yeah, there’s not much but it’s still there. Let me clean that up.” As he raised a hand, wanting to brush the dark liquid away with a stroke of his thumb, Mikey flinched back a little. 

“No, don’t, I- it’s not mine...” He trailed off, looking incredibly uncomfortable, wringing his hands anxiously. 

(y/n) stepped back a little, wanting to give him the space to say it. “I don’t understand.” 

“I... oh God, I’m so sorry. I, I should have told you sooner, should’ve been honest with you right from the start so you could get out easily, I-” He stopped, running a hand over his face. “I’ve been lying to you. Well, not exactly lying, I just haven’t been honest. And I’m so, so sorry for that.” 

Seeing just how panicked Mikey was - the poor boy was almost on the verge of tears - he stepped closer again, offering a comforting hand. “Hey, talk to me. I’m worried about you more than anything else. I just need you to be okay.” 

“I... (y/n), I’m a vampire. And I know I should have told you way sooner than this, I was just so scared-” 

(y/n) cut him off with a swift kiss, taking him completely by surprise. Using this to his advantage he slipped his tongue into his boyfriend’s mouth, a little shocked by just how much he liked the hint of iron on his lover’s tongue. It was a surprisingly arousing addition to Mikey’s usual taste. When he pulled away, Mikey’s eyes were almost as wide as dinner plates, and he offered up a reassuring smile. “Baby, I’ve known for a while now.” 

“I-you... what?” 

“Yeah. It wasn’t hard to figure out when I put all the little pieces together. Kinda like, two plus two is four, you know? Pretty simple.” 

“I...” He was pretty much speechless, trembling as the tension he’d been retaining in his muscles all started to fade away at once. He let (y/n) lead him over to the sofa, guiding him to sit down and tucking an arm around his waist. He still struggled with his words for a moment, before managing to spit out a single word. “How?” 

“Well, it was kinda obvious.” He giggled sheepishly, ticking things off on his fingers. “A garlic allergy and scary paleness - which is incredibly sexy on you, might I add - combined with you being mostly nocturnal, disappearing randomly in the middle of the night, and never being clearly visible in a single photo? All together, it only pointed towards one thing.” 

“And... you still stayed?” 

The way his voice cracked broke (y/n)’s heart, and he kissed him with even more passion than the last, desperate to get his point across. “Mikey, I love you! Of course I stayed.” 

There was a moment of dead quiet - neither of them had been brave enough to say those three little words before. 

“Do you really mean that?” 

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.” He stroked the other man’s thigh, trying to soothe him as much as possible. “Look, I wouldn’t have stayed if it wasn’t something I was totally okay with! And honestly? I wasn’t a hundred percent sure until I saw the blood today. All those things added up, but I didn’t wanna bring it up to you and then be wrong. I didn’t wanna fight with you... the thought of losing you was just too much to handle.” He sighed, nudging his forehead against Mikey’s shoulder. “You really do mean a lot to me. I didn’t wanna spoil things by bringing it up before you were ready to talk.” 

Mikey looked entirely baffled: he hadn’t prepared for a reaction like this. In his head, he’d dreamt out a variety of scenarios that could arise in this situation. He’d rehearsed how to handle anger at being lied to, tears stemming from feelings of betrayal, fury, name-calling, the love of his life walking straight out the door and never looking back. But he had simply never pictured pure acceptance - or the fact that he might have calculated the truth all by himself. Maybe he should’ve done. His boyfriend was an incredibly intelligent person, so maybe it was an insult to assume that he wouldn’t work it out. Either way, he had no clue whatsoever on how to handle this. 

And so he settled for crying instead. He hadn’t thought he’d cry in a situation like this, at least not in front of (y/n), but he was just so overwhelmed by the genuine love streaming from the other man that he didn’t know what else to do. He was vaguely aware of (y/n) moving to hug him even tighter, murmuring soothing words in his ear as he rubbed his back. He could hear (y/n)’s blood rushing beneath his skin, his heart beating steadily in his chest. He could smell his usual scent, sweet and strong and so uniquely him. And most importantly, he couldn’t smell any fear. Fear had a scent that was unmistakeable, and there wasn’t a hint of it on him. (y/n) genuinely wasn’t scared of him. And that made him sob even more. 

The two of them stayed like that for several minutes more as Mikey hiccupped his way back to calmness, ever soothed by his boyfriend’s loving words. His tone never wavered, constantly steady and gentle as he held him. (y/n) was overcome with emotion at the thought of how scared Mikey had been, and wanted - no, needed - him to know that he wouldn’t ever be scared of the man he loved. 

When Mikey was finally breathing normally again, (y/n) gently tipped his face upwards, needing him to see the honesty in his eyes. 

“Listen to me, baby. I love you more than I could ever really describe. It’s like you’re the Earth and I’m the moon - I’m constantly being pulled towards you, and now you’re in my life I don’t want to think about you not being a part of it. And besides, you want my honest opinion? I think the fact you’re a vampire is stupidly attractive.” 

Mikey actually managed to laugh at that, wiping away the tears and the last of the blood that lingered on his lower lip. “Really? You’re not just saying that to make me feel good about myself, are you?” 

“No way. Trust me, it’s hot. If I wasn’t into it, I would’ve made an excuse to go back to being just friends with you the moment I came to that conclusion. Pinky promise.” 

“I... I don’t think anyone has ever had that reaction before. Normally most people are... freaked out. Scared of me.” 

“Well, I’m not most normal people, am I?” (y/n) grinned, kissing him on the forehead. “Look, if... if you’re not ready to say, you know, the big three words just yet, that’s totally okay with me. I’m not expecting you to say it back, I swear. I just really, really needed you to know how I feel about you. How much you mean to me. Don’t feel bad if you still need some time.” 

For the first time in that whole conversation, (y/n) looked nervous, and Mikey took very little time to think before responding. This time he was the one to initiate the kiss, passionate and forceful and tender, pouring every ounce of love into that one intimate act. He needed him to know that he felt exactly the same way, and for now words didn’t seem strong enough. 

He didn’t pull away until (y/n) tapped him on the thigh, red in the face from lack of air, and he smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. Sometimes I forget that normal people need to breathe.” 

“I don’t mind that much.” He giggled, kissing the tip of his nose. “I find that kinda attractive too.” 

Mikey blushed as much as he was able to, rubbing his forehead against his boyfriend’s like a cat seeking affection. “(y/n), I am so in love with you. And this? I imagined every possible reaction except this one. I didn’t tell you because I was terrified that you’d turn me away, or hate me. So...” 

“Baby boy, I could never hate you. Not in a million years. I have, like, a million questions I’m dying to ask you though.” He grinned, squeezing Mikey’s hands between his. “But I think we should save that for later on. Right now, the only thing I want is to cuddle up in bed with you. Get all cosy in our little blanket nest and just forget about the rest of the world for a little while. Sound good to you?” 

“Sounds great to me.” 

The duo got up and headed towards (y/n)’s bedroom hand in hand, already dozing off as they got through the door. After a little arguing over which way the spooning situation was going to go, Mikey gave in and let (y/n) be the big spoon, every muscle relaxing as he pulled him against his chest. He turned back for a second, just about managing to press a kiss to his incredible boyfriend’s cheek. 

“I love you so much, (y/n). More than I can ever really say.” 

“I know, Mikey. I love you too - for as long as you’ll let me.” 

“Forever, then.” 

“Yeah, forever. I like the sound of that.” 

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (6)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: I hope you all have found ways to cope after the breakup, but here all your questions will be answered on what went down pre-August! Special shoutout to @just-fics-station @thepurplecrown @clarkysblog @hotdismylife and @sprinklesprinkle888 for sharing your ideas and indulging me with the lovely, crazy discourse!

To everyone, I am so chuffed at how this has become OUR story - our lil self-indulgent Ewan Nation production. You all are aces <3

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

In the aftermath of the breakup, the reader and Ewan throw themselves into their work, trying (and failing) to avoid any trace of the other. Will they remain this way - former lovers doomed to drift in each other's orbit?

Some time before August

New York City

The lush office was laden with expensive wooden antiques, one side with built-in shelves displaying film awards and plaques of varying degrees of prestige. A full glass minibar occupied the other side.

The casting director introduced himself as Bruce, insisting that Ewan call him by his first name and not any of that "sir or similar stick-up-the-ass names". Ewan can see him as a mentor or maybe even a friend, Bruce insisted.

After all, they were going to help each other out a lot.

The discussion was straightforward enough, never mind the saccharine tone Bruce seemed to be so good at. Aimed at making Ewan feel welcome, coddling him, remarking with awe at his projects thus far. But there was a fakeness to it. Ewan steeled himself, trying to adapt to the style of conversation. After all, if he is in this for the long haul, then he would have to get used to these situations.

Bruce appraised him, leaning back on his leather swivel chair. "How are you with the fantasy genre? All that YA, lovesick stuff the kids eat up so eagerly nowadays? Personally, I haven't got the taste for it, but it always makes bank, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, well, I'm a fan of all movies. I definitely see why the fantasy genre has made such an impact on audiences, especially with the romance element, you know, I get the appeal."

"Well, son, we've got a solid franchise in our hands here. Some adaptation of an elf-human love story, mind you, it sound ridiculous, but you know how it is. And the team seems to be in agreement - you fit the bill for the male lead. The male elf lead - " he almost guffawed at the thought, then collected himself " - hope you don't mind my saying that you've got elvish features yourself. Long nose, long jaw, lanky. The teens are going to eat you up."

"Ah," Ewan smiled curtly, nodding. There was a backhanded compliment if he ever heard one. "Well, sir, I've read the script - at least, the bit that was sent to me - and it looks quite promising. I'd be honoured to - "

"Of course, of course!" Bruce exclaimed in pleasure, cutting Ewan off mid-sentence. "And there's the case of your leading lady, and this all boils down to chemistry as you know. Our top contender is that Jenna Ortega girl from the Netflix show, you know her?"

Ewan nodded, well aware. He's seen her work, and thinks that she is a top actress of her generation, but leave it to Bruce to reduce her to being that girl from the Netflix show.

"Yes, she's a very talented actress," Ewan replied.

Bruce hums in agreement, head bobbing as a smirk materialises on his face. "Think she's a looker?" he said openly, without shame.

Ewan laughed nervously, his words caught in his throat.

Bruce, characteriscally oblivious to the discomfort of others, carried on. "I only ask because we're going to need you two to be pretty chummy with each other when you jump on this project. It's kind of a condition of the whole thing, but really nothing to concern yourself with." He waved a hand in the air, his proposition barely carrying any weight in his mind. But Ewan was catching on, and he started to develop a dislike about the whole deal.

"What do you mean?" Ewan asked.

"It's pretty common in this business, son. There's a reason why young, new actors like yourself opt to remain unattached so to speak, so they're always open to a PR arrangement or, you know, just so their - your - hoards of fans would think they got a chance with you," Bruce explains lazily. "In this case, since you and Ortega are, as I said, unattached, getting you two together would fuckin' do wonders for our movie."

Our movie, he said, convinced that Ewan was all in, because why would any young actor refuse such a golden opportunity? Franchises like this can set up an entire mainstream Hollywood career.

Ewan thought that he wasn't unattached. Granted, his date with you was yet to happen, but he already felt bound to you. He wished you were the one tapped to be his love interest. Very little acting would be needed there. Maybe he might even be inclined to go along with the idea of selling the relationship, using it for publicity for the film, but even that made him uneasy.

The industry offered a lot of privileges, but more often than not, they come at a cost.

"Sir, I - "

"Bruce."

"Right, sorry. Bruce, I have to tell you that I'm not exactly unattached."

"Got a partner?"

Ewan actually found himself smiling at the thought of you being called his partner. His first easy smile since entering this office. "Yes, she's an actress herself," he agreed.

"I heard of her?" Bruce asked with obvious disinterest. You were but a wedge in his flawless plan.

"She's kind of a new talent like me, but she's brilliant. She plays Alyna Rivers in our show."

"Ah her," Bruce loosened up a little. "I get it, she's a piece."

Ewan cleared his throat loudly, his jaw clenching on instinct. "So, like I said, I'm with her. I'm sorry but this whole PR arrangement with Jenna wouldn't work."

"Look, kid, I want my movie to do well, alright? I got a lot invested here. This PR thing has proven to be highly bankable time and time again. If you don't trust me, I can ask the team to show you the data on all that. It's a lot of boring numbers, but shit, the numbers are never wrong."

"I don't need to see - "

"If you wanna be with your girl, you can, but you just gotta learn to hide it. Sweep it under the rug, you know. Don't canoodle in public, you crazy kids," Bruce offered, like that made things any better.

"You want me to hide my relationship?"

"Hey, now, come on. Word gets around. Isn't your girl also doing this exact same thing with Jacob Elordi?"

"Not anymore, I don't think," Ewan clarifies, "and that was... that was hardly anything. They weren't obligated to do it. It just worked by chance because they were both single for a time."

"Po-ta-to, po-tah-to." Bruce clicked his tongue before making his next point. "So you see how it works, your thing with Ortega won't be any different."

"Do I have a choice?" There it is, the defining factor.

Bruce smiled slowly. The calculating and menacing air about him intensified, and it was obvious he was not there to be Ewan's friend.

"It would be stupid to refuse something like this, kid."

Ewan's blue eyes flashed in return. None of this was ideal, but his nan raised him well, and he knew better than to falter on his values in times of trial.

"Sir, what's stupid is if you ask me to hide my real relationship for the sake of mere publicity for a film."

"Stupid you say?" Bruce sneered, having already discarded Ewan in his mind, his fragile ego bruised. "What a shame."

There wasn't much to say after that. Bruce was clearly not disinclined to reveal the ice that settled in his veins, and it dawned on Ewan that it had always been the case. There was no true hospitality here.

For bigwig casting director-slash-execs like Bruce, this was a transaction. And Ewan was not about to put what he has, or what he could have, with you on the line.

There has to be another way to advance his career. If not bigger productions, then at least those with less domineering producers.

"That is a shame," Ewan said, getting up from his seat. "I won't waste any more of your time, sir. Thank you for considering me."

Bruce's eyes darkened even further. "You're actually refusing me? For some girl?"

Another genuine smile formed on Ewan's face at the thought of you. Some girl.

But you're not just some girl. He nodded without a trace of doubt in his mind, before reaching out to shake Bruce's hand. "If you don't mind, sir... I have to go and see my darling."

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Near the end of August

Los Angeles

The modern space sported a minimalist yet rustic feel, the interiors a blend of sterile white and sleek wooden surfaces. Very LA, as they say. The windowed walls offered plenty of light, as well as precious views of the valley below.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Donna," you greeted Ewan's publicist as she ushered you in her LA office.

"No problem at all, sweetheart," she said. "Please, have a seat. Would you like some coffee or tea? Ewan always has his coffee with way, way too much sugar. Mind you, if that kid wasn't active and boxing all the time, I'd be worried for his health."

You smiled fondly at her genuine concern. "Don't even mention the cigarettes."

"Oh, yeah," she scoffed, settling down on the chair across from you. She could have sat down at her desk, making the meeting more official, but Donna's always had a friendly and open way about her. "So, my sweet, how's your new movie coming up?"

You respond eagerly. The dialogue flowed freely, talking about your film and the lukewarm reception of season 2 of House of The Dragon. And finally, Ewan.

"I really thought he would get the Greta Gerwig film," you said. "Everyone said he was perfect for it. I think Greta herself had nothing but praises for him when they met on Zoom."

She sighed thoughtfully, "I thought so too. And, theoretically, he did have that one almost booked up. But there was an issue with one of the producers, which - I don't even want to get into that."

You shook your head, catching on whom she hinted at. "Donna, I heard... well, it didn't go too well in New York, didn't it? Ewan told me about it but... if you can tell me more, I just want to understand why - "

"Sweetheart," she offered a smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes, "you should talk about this with Ewan."

"I tried. But he wouldn't budge. Mallory told me... that it might have been because of me that he didn't get the role? And also why he's struggling to get roles now? Donna, I... I can't have that."

It took some time for her to formulate a response. She didn't want to step in something that's none of her business. Your relationship with Ewan is yours. But when his career is on the line, she supposed that she needed to have some say in that.

"He met with this top producer in New York. This real old money Hollywood guy. For decades, he's built careers for the greats, you know - Pitt, DiCaprio, Theron, and whatnot. There was a franchise project practically offered to him on a plate, but Ewan refused, because a non-negotiable was that he would have to hide you in favour of a PR arrangement with his leading lady."

You swallowed, the weight of the truth making itself clear. "Couldn't he have just done the movie without that?"

"You would think," she grimaced, "but some producers... when they want something, they have to get it. And well, Bruce wasn't lying, that would have sold the movie well."

"I thought we were past this," you expressed sadly. "I understand how PR relationships work. Just recently, I found myself kind of in the middle of one. But there was no pressure, it wasn't forced on us, and it was meant to be all in good fun."

"I know, sweetheart," she insisted, reaching out to squeeze your hand. "Bruce is an outlier now. Most of the time you do get lucky, with an all-around supportive production team, just like with your project with Elordi."

You hummed in agreement on that positive note, but your mind kept drifting back to Ewan.

Donna continued, wrapping up her story, "but Bruce is still here, and he still has a lot of power. But you know, it'll be fine. Ewan's got such a huge fanbase and so much talent that it'll only be a matter of time before something else knocks on his door."

You wanted to share her sense of optimism, but something ate at you. What else will Ewan have to sacrifice just to be with you? This was his dream, his one dream, and you were standing in the way. How much longer before he is offered another project but he refuses to take it for your sake? Your thoughts blurred together, bordering on irrational, but you couldn't help it.

All you could picture was the unabashed sincerity on his face, that sense of wonder, when he told you that acting had always been his dream.

Being tied down to you, this early in his career, would surely only hurt him. And you don't think you're worth it.

"Ewan loves you, sweetheart. Anyone with eyes can see that," Donna said after a while, heeding the storm brewing in your expression.

He loves you. It was true.

Less than a month in, and you've already found yourself with a love that you've never felt before. And perhaps never will again.

And that was the problem.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Late September

The podcast moderators are overly welcoming, if not a little loud for Ewan's taste.

The BBC podcast is called Loose Ends, and it's one of the first things Ewan agreed to take on upon returning to England.

He had wanted to head straight home to Derby, to bury himself in his heartache and bitterness, but the team for the show tapped him for a couple more promotional stints, riding on the high of the season finale. And who better than Ewan to offer to the media, the undeniable fan favourite.

Clad in an old gray shirt and blue jeans, people would think he just rolled right out of bed. He didn't really have the motivation to put in more effort. The only striking thing about him is his newly bleached head of hair, supervised by his stylist for a photoshoot a few days ago.

It was ironic, the timing of such a change. Ewan knew that if word got out that you dumped him, he would never hear the end of the joke of that being the reason for his hairstyle change, typical of all heartbroken sods.

Everyone bursts into laughter when he tells them about his mum's reaction to his nude scene. It feels like going through the motions, and he must have been so out of it, so forlorn, that his team prepared an outline for him prior to the interview. The questions and answers all pre-agreed.

Make them laugh. React as required. Remember to speak when spoken to. The mantra goes on in his head.

And don't think about her.

An impossible task, worsened when a moderator goes off script and asks, "Now it wasn't me who saw this, as I'm not on social media myself, but one of our interns did mention that you ventured into Instagram recently? Is that true?"

Oh fuck.

"Mmm, yeah, I guess," Ewan laughs nervously, his hand massaging the back of his neck in a self-soothing motion.

"And your first post went viral? What can you tell us about that? Our listeners would love to know."

"Uhhhm - " He remembers that the broadcast is live, and he can't exactly ask them to edit this part out, so he quickly settles for something indirect. Inconclusive. Safe. " - did it go viral? I'm not too sure how that thing works. I haven't used any kind of social media before."

"Apparently it did! And it had to do with the subject featured in that photo, Ewan. Your costar - "

"Mmm," Ewan stops him there, "didn't you say that you don't use Instagram?"

"No, I think I'm too old!" The moderator laughs.

"It's insane, that whole thing," Ewan shakes his head. "I don't know how to handle it. I'm logged off most of the time."

"Oh, you log off?"

"Yeah, yeah, helps me keep my focus, you know. Keep calm and all that."

"It can get frivolous, can't it?"

Ewan hums in agreement, and thankfully, the moderator moves on to his last question. One that does not breach the subject of you.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Another day means yet another media stint for Ewan, this time for Now TV.

Still in London, his stylist Davey and the rest of the team prepare him for a day of brief interview clips, to be posted on the social media pages of the company.

Davey had half-joked about Ewan needing even more concealer than usual, the shadows under his eyes having significantly deepened after the breakup.

Some of his team have gotten wind of what happened. They would curiously ask about you, how often Ewan keeps in touch with you while you're on set...

You must be on FaceTime everyday!

Is it hard to be doing long-distance so soon?

Do you miss her? Is that why you're not getting any rest?

...but Ewan would only laugh uncomfortably, dismiss it by bringing up another topic or shifting the attention to someone else, or excuse himself to go for a smoke.

He'd been drowning himself in cigarettes and caffeine during the day, pint after pint in the nighttime. Aimless.

He is coping. He knows how it must look, but he deserves this. He deserves to drift for a while. It's the only thing he can do to keep himself from jumping on the next flight to Atlanta and begging for your hand back.

You said you love him. You did. He hangs on to it like a beacon in a storm. No matter how pointless it may seem, with you choosing someone else over him.

Work is becoming something of an anchor, something that keeps him from spiralling. He's an actor, and he has always wanted to be an actor. People now have expectations of him, and he will answer the call.

The interview session begins with generic questioning, stuff he's answered before on several occasions.

How special is the bond between dragon and rider?

What is a funny moment from set that you can share?

How similar are Aemond and Daemon?

All safe. He's proud of himself for not breaking mental clarity thus far. You're in the back of his mind, dormant as a memory, and not something looming darkly over him. For a while, at least.

But then he is asked, If you could invite any 5 people to a Ewan Mitchell dinner party, who would you pick?

"Matthew McConaughey - "

You.

" - Bruce Lee. I think they could strike up an interesting conversation - "

Your name echoes in his mind, and he can't control it.

" - Andrea Riseborough. She's just a chameleon, like in any role she undertakes -

You have great taste. Even if you would make him eat spicy food again, he'll take it. He'll endure anything for you.

He's stumped for a second, lump in his throat, and his effort in avoiding you leads him to mention someone who will always be a comfort to him.

" - Maybe my nan, because I miss her -

Your name. He has to say your name. Who else? Think of someone else.. but who else? Who would be better?

" - and then, another person. Let's make it from the show... it would be Alyna Rivers."

"Oh really?" The interviewer asks. She's not really meant to respond in this instance, but she knows that the fans would go crazy about any mention of you or your character, so why not jump on this opportunity? "Can you tell us why you chose her?"

"Uhhm, well, she's just an amazing character, you know, fiercely loyal, beautiful, tenacious," Ewan replies easily, "so yeah, she would make for good company."

It is obvious that he is describing you just as much as he does Alyna Rivers, and no doubt, the fans will catch on to this detail.

Later, he's asked about his favourite part about season two, and he duly answers, "Seeing more of Aemond and Vhagar's bond and how that perhaps have gotten stronger. Aemond has definitely reined her in, after the accident at Storm's End."

Then, "There are some new additions to the show. Do you have a particular favourite?"

Another obvious piece of bait. And he takes it, he doesn't care anymore. What's the use of denying the truth?

"A favourite new character? Oh, well, uhmm... I really do like Alyna, and I think I've said before that Aemond and her are quite similar in a sense that they both know what they want and how to achieve it. It's just a shame they're on opposing sides, because if those two get together... " he trails off, leaving it up to the audiences to fill in the rest of the thought.

And they eagerly do. The clips where Ewan mentions Alyna get the most traction, flooded with comments that more or less talk of the same thing -

We know why you chose Alyna, Ewan. We know your ways.

He could have said Alys. Or Gwayne. Or even the ghost of Daeron ffs. But nooooo.... it's Alyna Alyna Alyna 😮‍💨

I wonder if she's there behind the scenes

yeah shes definitely lurking in the background!

Aemond and Alyna better have at least a scene together in season 3!!!!!

Someone kidnap Ryan Condal and make him write this

Ewan doesn't see any of it. Not that he's missing out, because he soon feels the need to call his younger cousin to ask her how to turn off his notifications on Instagram.

Day in and day out, his one single post gets dozens of new comments and likes, a brutal reminder of what he's lost. He could just delete it, and get rid of his profile entirely, but he hates to imagine the discourse that would follow.

All the invasive allegations and rumours. So he leaves it be. It makes no difference to him now. Let people believe what they want.

To his chagrin, he finds himself scrolling on his home page once in a while. The addictive element to it was true, and for him, it's exacerbated because the things he sees are often related to you.

Photos of you from fanpages and news accounts. Ones where your friends have tagged you. It's a toxic habit, looking through it all, but he can't help himself.

Then one day, as he's slouched on the seat in his London apartment, phone propped on his knees, he sees a cutout photo of his face on the corner of the screen. He clicks on it, and it's an image of him interposed among different posts. Posts which he apparently liked.

"Oh for fuck's sake," he cusses at himself, reading the caption.

Boyfriend lurking? - Ewan Mitchell may play a formidable TV villain, but in real life, he's just like us. Click on the link in bio to see his series of liked posts!

Dread takes root in him, followed by self-loathing. Why couldn't he just keep off this bloody thing? He takes to the comments to see what he has allegedly liked on accident and it's predictably photos of you - you at a premiere, stills of you as Alyna, and even, heavens fucking forbid, a behind the scenes shot of you getting pretty close with Jacob Elordi on the set of your film.

He vividly remembers seeing that last one, because he went on a bender after coming across it.

Cursing himself and his wayward, sticky fingers, he exits the app and deletes it from his phone.

Whatever goes on there, whatever people might leave on his profile, he washes his hands of it.

He calls up several of his mates, asking them if they want to come over for a few drinks.

"Again, Ewan?" one of them exclaims. "C'mon, you gotta take a breather, mate."

"I don't need a breather." I need her.

"Ewan - "

His composure breaks, all his damned frustrations rising to the surface, and he confesses, "I wonder if she thinks about me."

"Hang in there, mate. We're coming over."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

October

The director finally yells a satisfied, "Cut!"

It's only taken a good twenty-something takes for you and Jacob to nail a challenging scene. You had been on a roll since the beginning of the shoot, the last few weeks seemingly a breeze on paper, though it's a constant struggle to keep it together.

You've had to quell your internal dialogue so it does not stray to him. His smile. The feel of his skin against yours. His way of subtly picking up on details, and doing sweet things that surprise you as a result.

But you received word just before the scene that a few of your friends have come to visit, waiting back at your trailer - Phia, Fabien and his girlfriend, Bella.

And so, as if on instinct, Ewan is all you can focus on, every repressed memory of him rushing in like a tidal wave.

Do they know? What could you possibly say to justify what you did? You can only hope he took on that project, to give you a bitter sense of vindication.

It's the only thing that keeps it all the bay, the only thing that keeps you from jumping on the next flight to England and grovelling at his door.

Phia has her arms wrapped around you the moment you open the door to your trailer, loudly squealing, "I missed you!"

You sink into the hug, comforted by her presence.

As well as the fact that she represents some connection to Ewan.

Phia, Helaena. Helaena, Aemond. Aemond, Ewan.

It's a sick game to play, but it's what you have.

"Hey, yous," you hug Fabien and Bella in turn. Not long after, you're all lounging on director's chairs right outside your trailer, enjoying a bit of sun.

"How's our big Hollywood star?" Phia quips, her lips curling in her trademark pleasant upturn.

"Hardly a star," you shake your head fondly. "More of an indie darling."

"Of course, of course," she relents, before going on a monologue about how she's been keeping tabs on your project, how she just adores the costume designer whom she spoke to at length while you were working, and how the rest of the cast is rooting for you.

The rest of the cast.

"Ah, are they?" you ask, making a conscious effort to not simply blurt out his name. What does he think? Has he mentioned you at all?

Do they know?

Do they secretly hate you for what you did?

"Mhmm, right Fabs?" she says.

"Oh, definitely." Fabien agrees right away.

"How's your film? Are you done shooting in Philly?" you ask him.

"Just about done, but I think we're doing some final reshoots next week. I'm just glad my girl's here to visit," he slings an arm around Bella, who smiles and leans closer to him.

You smile at the sight, but it visibly falters. Ewan could be visiting you on set right now, just like Bella with Fabien, if you hadn't fucked it all up.

They notice.

"Love," Phia sighs, her tone softening. "I just want you know - we want you know - we're here for you, okay? No matter what you went through with... " A pause. Like saying his name would open up the floodgates.

Your gaze falls to your lap in shame. You pick on invisible lint on your trousers. Bite your lip. Breathe deeply.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

"So you guys know, huh?"

"Well, more or less," Phia says. "I just spoke with... Ewan... recently. He's back in Derby for the time being, and he's - "

"He's a bit rough," Fabien says firmly. He's not taking sides here, but he's heard from Ewan, and he feels the need to have his mate's back. "Look, I don't want to pry, but what happened? It seemed like you guys were doing so well together!"

"You don't have to tell us," Phia adds, shooting Fabien a look. "But if you want to, we're here to listen. We love you both and we just want to help, love."

You feel your eyes welling up. Leave it to Phia to be oh so sweet. You can't lie to them, you don't want to. Even if you did, they would see right through it.

Your friends know you too well.

"I... I miss him."

Phia squeezes your hand, and the whole story is about to spill out of you when you hear your name being called.

It's your assistant Clara, letting you know you're needed back on set.

You swallow back tears, standing on your feet, trying to maintain enough composure so you can grant yourself access back to your character.

"Go do your thing, superstar," Phia smiles comfortingly. "We'll be here when you're ready."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

November

"I'd like to propose a toast," Tom declares out loud in the empty pub, "to Ewan, Hollywood's new elf... Lord? Prince? Ah sod it, cheers!"

Round the table, Ewan, Fabien, Luke and Elliott all raise their pints with a collective, "Hear, hear!"

The pub has been cleared out for the lads, thanks to a favour called in by the twins, with the owner being their gym buddy and good friend.

"Thank you," Ewan replies, smirking. "I am your new elf prince, address me as such."

"Your ears have never been pointier, mate," Luke quips.

After a month of moping back home in Derby, or recovering as Ewan prefers to put it, he got a call from his manager telling him that the offer from Bruce still stands.

Apparently, the production team for the movie still had him tapped as the prime choice for the lead. After observing his audience metrics and overall viability, they decided that the movie would fare the best with him in it.

They had planted some half-baked announcements in the media, stating that it was Ewan against Joseph Quinn and Manny Jacinto for the role, and the fan reaction veered in Ewan's favour by a landslide.

Even though Bruce had an unsavoury word or two to say about him, he was willing to work past it, so long as Ewan would be more amenable to his demands.

After careful deliberation, Ewan chose to throw caution to the wind, and accept the role. So what if he has to pretend to have a real-life romance with Jenna? This is what you wanted.

"I'm glad you finally came out to see us, mate," Fabien says. "It's been a while."

"Yeah, fuck's sake. Remind us never to break your heart! That was tough to witness, you hunkerin' down out there all mopey and whatnot," Elliott laughs.

"Mmm." Ewan takes a swig of his beer to hide the wince he couldn't hold back. His friends, and most of the cast know by now, not in too much detail, of what went down between the two of you.

A typical short-lived romance of two actors. A summer fling. Most of them would look back and only see it as that.

Even though it was so much more. Even though Ewan still recalls how warm and soft and beautiful you felt as you whimpered underneath him, the loss of you as painful as getting hit by a freight train.

The liquor helps. Burying himself in work helps. Denial... well, that certainly helps the most.

When he goes out to the back garden for a smoke break with Fabien, he tricks himself into believing it's mere curiosity that compels him to say, "Phia mentioned that you guys went to Atlanta."

Fabien is rendered off guard, because he knows what's coming. "Yeah, we did. Bella came with us too. She was visiting me on set," he says, measuredly.

"Mmm." A long drag, a flick of ash towards the ground, an unaffected shrug - and eventually, with as impassive of a tone as he can muster, Ewan asks, "So how is she?"

Fabien smiles knowingly. "She's doing great. Her film's looking pretty good." He's privy to the truth, after he and Phia managed to gently coax it out of you over several martinis at a hotel bar in Atlanta. But he doesn't think it up to him to reveal that to Ewan, out of respect for your privacy.

While he might not share your sentiment, he thinks it's not in his place to tell Ewan that you basically lied for his sake.

But that doesn't mean he won't drop a helpful nugget or two.

"You know, I don't exactly know what's going on... but her and Jacob came across as nothing more than friends."

Ewan's hand freezes mid-air, the cigarette inches from his lips. He loathes the sense of hope that immediately bloomed in his chest. He's so bloody easy. One miniscule hint, and his delusions break through the wall of indifference he worked so hard to build.

"She said she has feelings for him," Ewan stresses, trying to convince himself. What was the fucking point of all this... this pain... if you never did?

"Hey, mate, I dunno," Fabien puts his hands up, "just telling you what I saw."

"It doesn't matter." It does. "She ended it." He wants you back, he will always want you back. "It's better this way."

"Is it?"

Ewan doesn't answer. He doesn't know how to, without grossly embellishing the truth.

Fabien watches his friend, sensing his hesitation as he averts his gaze. One thing becomes clear to him - you and Ewan are far from being over.

So he says, "She misses you, you know."

Ewan regards him with a stony look, one that slowly softens to reveal the broken boy inside. For but a moment, before he clears his throat and throws the butt of his cigarette on the ground.

"Let's head back inside."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

December

You're back in London, as production for your film is paused for the upcoming holiday season.

Work is supposed to be the last thing on your mind, but it just so happens that your manager has you booked for a chemistry read for a yet undisclosed film.

Phia came over to your apartment, insisting that she help you get ready. When you asked how she found out about your audition, she was quick to say that she was up for the role as well but didn't think it was right for her.

"Why not?" you ask, as she hovers over you, patting blush on the apples of your cheeks.

"Oh, you just get a feel for these things."

"Phi, it's just a chemistry read," you say, when she reaches for the mascara. "I don't need to get all dolled up for this."

She gasps, "Oh, but this is showbiz, darling. We always have to put a face on."

"Fine," you relent. "Do your worst."

The makeup she ends up doing on you is minimal, but it enhances your features just the right amount. You rush through your final preparations, folding up the script sample you were given and stuffing it in your purse.

Phia stands out on your balcony, in the middle of a call. The window screen is slightly open, so you hear snippets of the conversation as you walk by.

"Is he ready?" she asks. Who's he? You assume it's the guy you are doing the read with.

You don't know about him, but you are ready, so you stick your head out to say, "I gotta go, Phi."

"Oh!" She startles a little, angling her phone away. "Already?"

"Yeah, the read's at 4, I believe. Just lock the door when you leave, 'kay?"

She hurriedly whispers something to her phone, presumably ending her call. "I'll actually head out with you," she grins. "My work here is done anyway."

"Any plans for the night?"

She shrugs, "Might meet with Tom and Martha."

"Oh, why don't I meet you guys after my thing?"

"Uhhhm," she chews on her lip, thinking. Under her breath, you barely hear her mumble, "... hoping you'd be busy."

"What?" A restrained chuckle escapes you, confused as to why she's being so coy.

"Nothing," she tilts her head. "We can meet if you'd like."

The weird exchange is out of your mind when you arrive at the casting agency. You run the scene through in your head as you walk in the building, up the elevator, down the long hallway.

It's a heartfelt scene, if not a little tense, a dialogue between reunited ex-lovers.

Your manager Polina and publicist Mallory greet you at the doors, swiftly briefing you before directing you in.

"They're waiting, just walk right in, doll," Polina says.

"Okay, wish me luck!" You have your hand on the door handle when Mallory strangely remarks, "Don't hate us, sweetheart!"

"Why would I - "

"Go, go," Polina guides you in, then shuts the door behind you.

The office sports an spacious and open layout, with plenty of natural light streaming through large windows. The primary workstation is partially hidden behind a subtle partition. You see silhouettes of a few people behind it, so you walk down that way.

The figures reveal themselves soon enough - the casting agents you recognise as Patrick and Amie, sitting in front of the actor you're meant to read with.

A range of emotion washes over you, but you don't even have time to reckon with them. The casting agents divert your attention from Ewan, as they approach you with wide smiles in greeting.

"So nice to finally meet you!" Amie croons. "Take a seat. You two already know each other, of course. Between us, there won't really be a question of chemistry here."

"Right?" Patrick adds, looking between you and Ewan. "The fans sure think so, and we have to say we already agree."

"So just give us a minute to set up," Amie says. "Then we'll start."

You smile stiffly, settling down on the opposite end of the couch. You keep your gaze straight, trying to keep your attention on Patrick as he sets up the camera. Your heartbeat races the entire time, and you feel your hands getting clammy.

"They're all in on it," you hear Ewan say, prompting you to finally look at him directly. You take him in hungrily, admiring his outline, ever so handsome with his Targaryen-blonde hair and black leather jacket.

A weak "Mmm?" is all you can muster.

"Our teams, Tom, Phia... they set us up. Tom came over and I overheard him on the phone with Phia."

"Oh," you mumble. He doesn't even spare you a glance, leaning on the armrest on his side of the couch. He looks as if he'd rather be anywhere but here, next to you, and it hurts.

It's what you deserve.

"Is this not a real chemistry read?" you ask meekly.

"I suppose it is," he laughs humourlessly, "but it's not a coincidence that you and I just happen to be the only ones scheduled for today." He turns to you, giving you a critical sideways glance. "Didn't see that coming, did you?"

"I... I can leave if you want - "

"Mmm," his brows furrow, "you do seem to be good at that."

You look away. He is not being fair, but you weren't neither, that wretched night back in September.

And he is making you pay for it now.

But then you hear him speak in a softer tone, "Stay."

Stay. When you look at him once more, his attention is entirely on you, arm outstretched on the couch like he just tried to reach for you but decided against it.

Stay, he asked. So you do.

It's what you should have done, months ago.

"Okay, guys. Whenever you're ready," Amie says. She and Patrick take their seats in front of you, with the camera on a stand between them.

The script crinkles on your lap as you hold it with shaky fingers. "It's been a while," you read out your opening line.

The dialogue plays out twisted and ironic, now that you know who your scene partner is.

"Hardly," Ewan responds in character. "I feel like no time as passed."

"Feels like a lifetime."

He pauses, then sighs, "Do you even miss me?"

"How... how can you even ask me that?"

"How can I - "

"Why didn't you... why didn't you fight for me?" your voice breaks, the lines hitting a bit too close to home.

"You're a fucking hypocrite," he spits with venom. "You weren't exactly giving me anything to fight for."

"I did it for us. I did it all for us." If you didn't feel like crying at the weight of the scene, you would have rolled your eyes at the similarities.

"Like I said - nothing to fight for."

"Nothing? So you're telling me I was nothing to you."

"No," he levels you with an icy look, "you were everything to me. Everything. But you left me behind, and for what? So you can run off with the rebel sect?"

"The mission needed me. You wouldn't understand." You feel a sense of relief when the sci-fi elements roll in, otherwise you might have given in to your emotions and sobbed right there on the damn couch.

"I needed you," Ewan says, eyes not leaving yours. "I needed you and you abandoned me, just like that."

"And are you not better for it? When I left, did they not make you General?"

"See, that is the difference between you and I," he says coldly. "I wouldn't have traded what we had for anything - no position, no amount of wealth, no glory... I would have chosen us every time."

"Aaand cut!" Patrick jokes, effectively breaking the tension.

The two of you have unconsciously drifted closer, now only a foot part. Ewan does not drop your gaze, watching you closely. You see his eyes flit down to your parted lips, and he leans in almost imperceptibly.

"Alright, how about we go one more time?" Amie says, diverting your attention. "Give us a different take, and then that's it!"

Ewan settles back on his end of the couch. When he reads his lines again, his tone is harsher and he no longer meets your eyes.

Patrick and Amie commend you both afterward, singing praises about your acting abilities. Ewan is polite as always, blushing and grateful, but he practically dashes out of the door when the meeting finishes.

You're left standing with Amie, as Patrick has taken to his laptop to file the footage.

"The way he looks at you," she sighs dreamily, referring to Ewan. "You'd think the sun shone out your arse, doll."

"He... he was just in character," you disagree. "He's a good actor, as you know."

"Yeah, I mean, he nailed the part's rancour perfectly. But his eyes - oof - you've got a good one there."

Oh. Of course they would still assume you and him are together.

How desperately you want it to be true.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

An hour later, you've just sent Phia a text saying - You owe me. Where do I meet you guys?

But you hear a knock on your apartment door. If you didn't buzz anyone in, it can only be a neighbour or someone the doorman recognised.

Someone familiar to you.

And it's him.

"Ewan?"

"I need to speak with you."

You step aside so he doesn't linger at your doorway. He walks past you, a welcome if not unexpected presence in the room.

You can't decipher his expression, his gaze angled downward as he leans against your kitchen counter.

When the silence becomes almost deafening, you laugh awkwardly, about to make some silly remark on whether he is still in character. But he doesn't let you diffuse the tension.

"I want you," he blurts out without warning. "God help me, I still want you. I think I might have a fucking problem because how can I... after what you did - " A momentary glance of betrayal, but you see the spite clear in his eyes. " - but I do. I can't get you out of my system."

"I'm sorry - "

"I don't need that," he says sharply. "I don't need your sorry. I need you. I need to have you, and maybe this way, I'll satisfy whatever pointless desire I still have in me."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying - I'm asking - will you let me have you?"

"Ewan, I don't under - "

"I'm saying that we should sleep together," he says bluntly, and it feels like the rug has been pulled from under your feet, "but only just. You won't be mine, and I won't be yours."

"You're kidding."

He shakes his head, before adding, "Don't worry. It'll be our little secret. To the rest of the world, I'll have a different girlfriend anyway."

His words register, along with the bitter ache at his words, that you won't be his, he won't be yours. This is purely for pleasure. There used to be love here, and now he just craves the comfort your body allows.

You'll be using each other.

You should refuse. This is not healthy; this is not how you move on. Can you even go back to being good friends after this? But also - what have you got to lose?

What, except for him, and for good this time?

What, except everything?

"So what do you say - " He closes in on you, and with every bit of malice intended, the name no longer possessing the sweetness it once held, he sneers, "- darling?"

💌 next chapter

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @livcookesgf @onlyrealjoy (continued ... )

Some notes in the margins...

Well well well... the transition from friends to lovers to strangers to angsty FWBs sure is a slippery slope!

The time jumps are so we get through the moping quicker! It's mostly back to the regular shenanigans in the next part. Only, you know, angst-ridden. But you hurt Ewan, reader. *wags finger* Don't say you didn't expect this switch! Tsktsk

So what now - will you accept this arrangement? Will things ever be truly okay? Part 7 is going to be hot and hilarious and stupid and messy, just as the doctor ordered.

Let's hash it out in the comments, shall we? 🗡💕

[hyukakisses]

— txt as ur older emo friend to boyfriend!

pairing: txt x loser reader

plot: (this is a very old, re-edited post i had up on my old account), headcanons of emo txt and reader in college basically, strangers to friends to best friends to lovers troupe

warnings: (SMUT!), cursing + red flag txt (probably more warnings)

-emo txt who all your friends would warn you about befriending, “oh no girl don’t even THINK about it you don’t want to hang around him, he gives off school shooter vibes” your friends put the emphasis on the word ‘think’ as you watched the elder boy sit alone at a table during lunch. the ravenette’s head in his open palm as he boringly read a novel while he wore over the ear black headphones

-emo txt who would stare at you while you sat with your friends during lunch looking away quickly the moment you’d sense being stared down. “oh come on he’s not that bad guys he’s just misunderstood” you’d sigh defending the emo boy remembering the arguments he would get in with classmates over stupid shit like how my chemical romance created emo music

-emo txt who would walk past you before first period making you sigh dreamily at his features each time you saw them up close. daydreaming on how soft the taller male’s hair and face would feel against your hands. only to end up sighing sadly at how that would never actually happen and you just look like a lovesick puppy. ‘why doesn’t he just talk to me? am i really that weird? am i not his type? does he like pretty popular girls or something?’ you’d think to yourself deciding that you were going to finally make your move and talk to the boy you were crushing on once you’ve seen him alone at lunch.

-emo txt who would look at you extremely bewildered once he noticed you marching at his usually empty table. “uh can i help you?” the ravenette looks up from his book with a frown on his eyebrows but intrigued because no one’s ever sat with him willingly before. “i just noticed you always sit alone during lunch i just wanted to say hi” you’d lie straight through your teeth you wanted to say more than just hi. you wanted the boy to rearrange your guts, you wanted to eat him and then bake him a pie- “alright” the weird boy replies and you internally squealed in delight

-emo txt who was surprised when you sat next to him the next day, expecting that to be a one time thing or some type of dare. “don’t you have other friends? you don’t have to sit next to me you know” he lazily tosses his backpack on the lunch table “i know but i want to sit next to you is that okay?” “yeah i guess so” the emo boy trails seeing how girly you dressed compared to him. “this isn’t some type of dare from your friends right?” the lip pierced male munches on his fries in front of you messily to which you found was really cute. “no my friends don’t really want me sitting next to you” you groan hating how you weren’t able to stop yourself from saying that. the long haired male tries to hide his laughs, “are you gonna eat that?” he points to your fries grinning as you slide him down your lunch tray. you sighed in relief at the subject change

-emo txt who would stiffen back a laugh overhearing you and your friends conversation by your locker, “so you’re actually sitting with him? after we told you he’s bad news?” “whatever you guys, he’s actually really nice and i like being his friend” “oh you totally like him” “what?! no i don’t i just i just” you’d struggle to form a sentence. “i just really like being his friend and i like his company that’s all” “oh yeah? then why are you blushing like some type of school girl? do we have to remind you how badly things went last time you liked somebody?” “it’s different this time i swear!”

-emo txt who would immediately invite you over his house for gaming and anime binge watching sessions, liking at how you’re so quick to defend their aid. the emo boy’s ego inflating when your friends basically confirmed your little crush on him. the lip pierced boy was always shocked at how someone as sweet as you could possibly wanna befriend the total opposite of that but he wouldn’t fight on it, enjoying how you clinged onto him like a baby koala.

-emo txt who would eventually make you a custom mixtape on how he felt, adding love songs from his favorite bands such as deftones, pierce the veil, sleeping with sirens and my chemical romance. writing down the question ‘will you be my emergency contact?’ you were a bit confused on what it meant but quickly flushed cherry red once you realized that was the emo boy’s way of asking you out. you felt so happy each time the song came on, remembering how your now boyfriend dedicated the song to you, saying it reminded him of you

-emo txt who would allow you to do a makeover on him. “hold still!” you’d plead painting his nails jet black, letting out the biggest whine when your boyfriend would play with his fingertips causing the nail polish to chip. causing you to give up on that and move along to his eye shadow, giggling at how eyeliner looked really good on the aforementioned male. “pose for the picture please!” the emo boy rolls his eyes making claws with his fists as you snap a few pictures with your polaroid

-emo txt who wouldn’t talk as much and just preferred laying his chin in his palm as they’d watch you passionately talk about your hyper fixations “im not boring you right?” “no baby of course not”

-emo txt who would play guitar hero with you in his room, the walls covered his favorite band’s posters, you’d giggle at how passionately your boyfriend bops his head at the screamo music blasting your eardrums.

-emo txt who would smile ear to ear when you clapped excitedly jumping up and down in place when he got more piercing. you always talked about him getting tongue and eyebrows piercings you just didn’t think today would be the day. “you like it?” your boyfriend breathes bending down to your height as you nod rapidly before you whisper in their ear, “yes like it so much” you’d reassure “but i also wanna feel your tongue piercing on my clit” the ravenette’s eyes would go wide before he smirk down at your flushed face

-emo txt who wouldn’t mind you stealing his band tees or very large bracelets instead he would smile at how tiny you’d look wearing them, enjoying the height and size difference you two shared.

-emo txt who would be shocked that you weren’t as innocent as his thought you were, “holy shit” the tall male curses as he felt your tiny mouth (it wasn’t that small but to him everything about you was tiny) take their entire member done your throat. mewling around his shaft, lazily rubbing your clit looking up at your boyfriend as you bopped your head up and down giving the elder male pleading eyes begging for him to touch you

-emo txt who would pull you away from his cock after they face fucked you, manhandling you on your back finally paying attention to your neglected cunt, softly smiling at how you let out high pitch moans. a wicked smirk forms on your boyfriend lips as he shoves his ring covered fingers in your mouth, beginning to slam his length in your pink insides. his doe eyes glimmering in the dark room as you whine about how much you loved him and his cock :(

-emo txt would do your hair, smiling at how you praised him for how well he placed a pink ribbon in your hair before you tackling your boyfriend into a hug pressing a million kisses on his pierced face

-emo txt text messages would include:

monday 2:31 pm

💒🎀🧁: walk me home after last period!!

🚬🖤⛓️: woah

🚬🖤⛓️: are you trying to assert your “dominance” right now?

💒🎀🧁: yes!!

🚬🖤⛓️: that’s cute.

friday 2:34 am

💒🎀🧁: after knowing you for so long i’ve came to the conclusion that you definitely have some type of daddy issues

🚬🖤⛓️: alright princess

🚬🖤⛓️: you’re the last one to be talking, miss “nooo you guys don’t get it! having him cradle me in his big strong arms would totally fix me!”

a/n: i should probably stop writing my real life events on here hmm

[fxdizz-y]

GHOST X GEN Z + GN!READER

A/N: Hiii first fanfic on tumblr kinda nervous😣 I'm not going to take request just yet this is all for my cravings💀🙏🙏 I'd love if you teach me scottish slang too!

Pairing: (mainly) Ghost x gn!reader || slight Task Force 141 x gn!reader

C/W: Strong language, age gap, fluff, kinda suggestive flirts, Ghost being a boomer, dark humor, no use of Y/N, your call sign is 'Spring' (the metal one), teasing, not in the same timeline as the game, they simping hard for each other

T/W: unhealthy habits (skin peeling around the nails etc)

(Don't mind the song I just listen to it while writing)

『••✎••』

Your life was dull, nothing seems to made you excited anymore. Don't get you wrong, you have an okay childhood, even though you had force yourself to grow up at some point but you didn't mind all that much.

Not like you ever did, you're that 'nice' kid that let people borrow their belongings and seems to don't hold grudges.

But in truth, you weren't that nice. No, you did hold grudges, the only reason you didn't say anything was because you knew that it'll be pointless to argue and you just over all wasn't a social kid.

When you finally hit off to high school, you instantly realized that it'll be hell.

And you weren't wrong.

You were one of those alt kids that wear band shirts and heavy eyeliners. Admittedly it was kind of fun.. But the bullying just drove you to the edge.

But those were memories in the past.

You're 23 now, fidgeting your fingers and scraping the dead skins on your nails, standing next to a woman with dirty blonde short hair.

Her icy blue eyes stare right ahead of you both. She had introduced herself earlier, her name is Kate Laswell.

You both were waiting for some dude to show up, apparently he's supposed to come and get you so you can officially be in his little group.

After what feels like years, a man finally make his way to you, or more likely, Laswell.

– "Price."

Laswell said, turning towards the man, you took a step behind Laswell, hiding yourself from the taller male.

– "Laswell."

The man greeted, before continue.

– "And where is this rookie?"

'Price' ask, his eyes scanning the room. Laswell scoff and give your back a harsh pat, making you step out of her shadow.

– "Price, this is Spring."

– "What."

Price look at you and back at Laswell, clearly hoping this was some sorts of joke.

Unluckily, Laswell eyes tell the truth.

– "For fuck sake, that's literally an INFANT! "

Price exclaim, gesturing towards you while keeping his eyes on Laswell.

You held yourself back from rolling your eyes, keeping your composure.

– "Where the fuck is your manners? You either take them or have troubles missing a skilled hacker."

Laswell snaps, glaring at Price.

The corner of your lips tug up at that, feeling happy and flustered.

Price groans and turns to you, looking at you up and down, judging you hard.

– "Oh my fuckin.. You know I can't just put a baby with the toddlers, the big boys can be mean sometimes."

– "The baby are the meanest, trust me."

Laswell sigh out, pushing you towards the captain.

Price sigh in defeat, before just nod at Laswell.

– "I'll take them"

He grumble before mentioning you to go outside, which you obeyed.

When you made it outside you wait for the captain, which come after you after a few moment.

He gesture to the car and you sat on the backseat.

He quirk a brow up but didn't question it.

The way to your new base felt like forever, especially when none of you decide to talk. So being you, you hums to yourself to MCR.

You were into your own little world and didn't noticed how Price glance at the mirror sometimes to look at you.

He didn't speak of course, just silently observing and quite enjoy this rather than painful silence.

After quite some time the car park at an unfamiliar base, well to you anyways.

You scrambled out the car and went back to fidgeting your fingers, scrapping and peeling off the skin around the nail etc.

Price glance at you and pat your shoulder, a quiet sign for you to follow.

You follow without hesitation, stuffing your hands in your camo pants pocket and let your eyes wander around the place, taking mental notes on which path leads to where since you figured you'll be staying here for awhile.

Each steps you take only make your excitement grows, something that you haven't felt this strong for ages.

Your eyes sparkle with wonders like a child again and you have a great feeling about this, despite your captain bad first impression.

You both walk into a room and the captain told you that your team would be meeting you when they arrive, so you sit on the small locker and swinging your legs, feeling nervous.

You didn't let your mind wandered for too long when the door swing open and 3 men walks in.

And good grief.

They were huge. And you didn't mean it in the dirty way.

Like literally. Especially the one in the back. Despite being behind the two other men you can clearly tell that he's the tallest and the biggest, his skull mask stands out as his eyes stare right into you, you feel absolutely fucking naked under them.

Price motion for you to get down and as you hop down you could almost feel your knees gave up.

– "Hello sailor.."

You mumbled, eyes glued to the tallest man in the room. You could tell that he's about 6'2" and a half.

Luckily Price didn't heard what you just mumbled and continue on introducing you to the team.

You smile cheapishly at all of them, deciding that it was enough eye candy.

– "Aye Rookie?"

A man with faux haircut call you, whom recently introduced himself as Soap wink at you playfully.

– "Name's Spring, sir."

You said, winking back, returning the energy.

– "What's with the name?"

Gaz ask, patting your back.

– "I can do em big jump, sir!"

You exclaim proudly.

Gaz look at you with mischief in his eyes, despite being older you can already tell this guy means good trouble.

Soap, who's probably the closest to your age sling his arm over your shoulder.

– "How 'bout yer show us hm?"

He said, letting his arm fall from your shoulder.

You nod and looking around, looking for a perfect thing you can jump on.

Before it lands on one and only Lieutenant.

Soap immediately notice and give you an unsure stare, knowing how Ghost hate physical touches.

– "Lieutenant?"

You call out, a fuzzy feeling form on your stomach.

And it explode into thousands butterflies when his eyes snaps to you, before they turns gentle.

It may look like he's glaring down at you but you both know that if you look close enough, you'd see the soft, gentleness in it. As if he's being careful to not scare you away. Or maybe it's your imagination.

You sure hope it's fucking not.

Ghost couldn't even believe it. He doesn't believe in this whole love at first sight deal. Just ridiculous.

And ironic isn't it, Lieutenant?

He wasn't listening to your chit chats before so when a soft voice calls out for him he was surprised.

And he craves more of your voice. He wanna hear you say his name.

And god you're so tiny standing in front of him.

You look so.. So fragile to him.

– "Uhm.. Sir?"

You call out again, slowly placing a hand on his arm, fucking desperate to get his attention back.

You definitely awoken something in him with that.

And you knew it when you can feel him tense up.

Ghost focus back on you again, nodding for you to do whatever you want.

Soap and Gaz was FLABBERGASTED.

L.T being soft? Man they whish they could record this right now.

But that'll be a dead wish.

You jog behind him, before running up to him and jump high. And holy shit.

You didn't lie.

You could almost jump over him.

But you didn't since there wasn't enough space, instead you land on his shoulder.

You would be concern for the neck you could broke but you weren't in your gears so you weren't heavy.

You cheers when you land on him, almost sending him to the floor.

He pause. Unsure how to feel.

[anystalker707]

Read before requesting

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Meet the author

♱ MCR MASTERLIST

♱ MCR MASTERLIST II

♱ MCR MASTERLIST III

࿐ ONE PIECE MASTER LIST

࿐ ONE PIECE MASTER LIST 2

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Includes: ⋆ HAIKYUU!! ♡ CREEPYPASTA ☽ JUJUTSU KAISEN

⭐ ACTORS MASTER LIST

Includes: ᯓ★TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET 🌿 HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN 🩵 CILLIAN MURPHY ✩ MARK HAMILL

[spittingbloodandscreaming]

Motel Sex (Gerard Way x Male reader SMUT)

Was supposed 2 post this erleir forgor about the passage of time please forgive me will work on requests tomorrow I haven't slept in 3 days

WARNINGS: nothing much really? Mild hair pulling?

AN: This has been sitting in my docs for a WHILE so I thought I'd finish it up and throw it here so there's atleast something while I work on the other requests

Gerard sighs at himself and looks around the empty motel room. The guys have left him the space to "Have some alone time with your ‘friend’. wink wink,” Frank said, emphasizing the wink out loud before leaving. Gerard glances at the time on the half-broken electric clock on the nightstand—only fifteen minutes until you planned to arrive. No big deal, right? He can wait.

Enough time has passed, and Gerard is watching one of the limited channels on the TV before he hears you knock on the door. Excited, he jumps up to answer.

“Hey, Gee!” you say as the door opens, revealing your boyfriend, a look of relief on his face as if he had been half expecting you to not show up. He greets you happily and hugs you tight before welcoming you in. “Where are the guys?” you ask, sitting down on one of the two queen-sized beds in the motel room.

“They went out for a while, givin’ us alone time. Should be leftovers, though,” he says, leaning in to kiss you as he finishes his sentence. “But I think I’ll be pretty full by the time I’m done with you.” Gerard leans further into you, pushing you fully onto the mattress. It’s very clear how amused by his own joke he is.

“What are you implying there, Mr. Way?” you say before giggling back into the next kiss.

“Oh, you know,” Gerard says, mischievously smiling before grabbing you around the waist and getting on top of you. He’s straddling your legs, keeping you in place against the bed. Gerard grins wide, kissing all over your face. He’s utterly thrilled to be with you, to have you in his arms, even if it’s in a dingy motel.

Gerard can’t keep himself contained, giggling like a madman as he moves down to gently kiss your neck. He’s so caring with his touch, or at least tries to be. He keeps his hands in yours for the most part, squeezing them lovingly. Eventually, though, his hands travel up to your neck, long fingers resting on your pulse as he gently nips at the base of your jaw.

As the moments pass, Gerard’s kisses get progressively more intimate and prolonged, and eventually, his fingers start to dig into the soft flesh of your neck. You can’t tell if he’s doing it on purpose, or if he’s just that into it. Either way, you don’t mind, and that’s evident by the soft whines each one of his kisses pull from your throat. Something about those sounds make Gerard snap, grinding his hips against yours as he lets out a long drawn-out whine of his one. He licks a long line from the base of your neck up to your mouth, turning it into a rough, sloppy kiss.

Gerard trails his hand down your torso, hooking his fingers in the waistband of both your pants and underwear, pulling them down just enough to reveal your half-erect cock. He wraps his hand around your cock gingerly, and, ignoring the action, just the way he handled it was gay. 

Your muscles tense as Gerard keeps his movements steady, slow high-pitched whimpers filling the motel as he slowly moves himself down, putting his face at crotch level. He rests his head on your upper thigh. He looks up at you, face just inches away from your cock as he smiles oh so sweetly. You look down at him, voice trembling; “Please.” Gerard needs no other encouragement. He runs his tongue up the length of your dick slowly before shoving as much of you in his mouth as he can, which is, admittedly, a lot.

He sucks you off so perfectly, you can’t fathom how one man could make you feel this good. He has you grabbing handfuls of the sheets, bucking your hips and in turn making the back of your cock hit his throat. You arch your back and grab a handful of Gerard's hair, the other hand hitting the mattress. You’re practically screaming—you wouldn’t be surprised if the guys got a noise complaint because of you.

You only last a few more minutes before your moans begin to catch in your throat, and Gerard notices. He digs his nails into your thighs as he takes your whole length in his mouth, throat contracting around your cock as he does so, ripping a loud, broken scream from your throat. You use the handful of his hair you have as leverage, shoving him all the way down as your dick twitches—one final warning before you cum down his throat. 

Gerard stays in place until you’re done, swallowing around your cock before bringing himself up. He has drool and cum dripping down his chin, and his hair is a mess, and he’s smiling so wide you’d think he just got a million-dollar check and a puppy. He crawls back up to kiss you gently before laying his head on your chest and sighing. He stays silent for a moment, before clearing his throat and whispering. 

“I love you.” You can feel him smiling against you still.

“I love you too,” you say, sighing and closing your eyes.

“Y’know, we should probably get your pants on before the guys get back.”

[oldiesstationlover11607]

Masterlist

Started: 20 July 2024

Introduction post/meet the writer

Smut masterlist bc I know ur looking for it lol - requests are closed for smut

Requests - I take requests from lots of fandoms Note: I don’t write male x male smut I’m female and she/her so don’t really have experience to write for it but I'm happy to write fluff or angst for mxm. Smut requests are closed.

Current fandoms I write for: twenty one pilots, marvel, star wars, 5 seconds of summer, my chemical romance, waterparks

(But also just feel free to ask because I love so many things there’s a huge chance you’re in a fandom I haven’t listed and I’ll write for it!)

note - everything is fem reader unless noted below!

Twenty One Pilots masterlist

My Chemical Romance masterlist

5 Seconds of Summer masterlist

Other fics/bands

Waterparks:

Secrets - Awsten Knight x Geoff's sister!reader

[imagines--galore]

It’s another TASM Peter X F Reader idea:

“Post No Way Home implications about how Peter 2 (Tobey) told Andrew Peter to not give up hope after he returns to his own universe.

“While on another nightly patrol, Peter briefly wonders about if there were other unknown spider traits that his mutated DNA were still keeping dormant within him…until an alluring, sweet scent suddenly hits his spider senses.

“He moves cautiously towards the source, but is also unable to fight the beckoning trance. The scent’s source turned out to be a well hidden young woman, who had been running from one place to another, trying to escape pursuers who wished to use her alluring abilities for their own selfish gains.

“Spider-Man could see how low her trust in people were, as his first meeting with her revealed her highly raised guard towards his presence. But his drunken senses couldn’t stop sniffing the air near her. When he took in too much of her “special pheromones”, he’d let out a sneeze.

���By hearing his sneeze, something in the pretty girl made her drop her guard slightly.”

I’m still not sure how subtle I’d want some smut implications to be in this fluff, drama, angst, romance driven daydream. I just know that I understand the biodynamics of animal instincts, and that my own fondness for a mating call fits perfectly with the spider mating research stuff which I’ve been looking up.

Pairing: TASM! Peter Parker x Reader Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. Implications of sex but nothing detailed! And a brief mention of SA but you have to read between the lines to detect it. Nothing graphic. A/N: Sorry this took so long! It was a TALL ORDER! Love incorporating details into everything I write :3

Running away was something you were rather familiar with.

Not because you wanted to, but because you had to.

Because your blood contained a special kind of mutagen that created a pheromone that had the ability to attract any male who preferred the opposite sex. The problem was you had no control over your ability and on more then one occasion you had to shake off potential males from succumbing to the sweet scent that emanated from your body.

It had taken awhile but somehow you had managed to suppress the scent. Using a strong perfume helped. Flowers were even better. Perhaps why you had begun to make a living out of it by opening a flower shop and staying within the confines of it. Whenever you moved somewhere, opening a flower shop was the easiest way to mask your scent.

Now most girls would use such an ability to their benefit, to try and lure some rich and successful male. You, however, had no desire to do so. You didn't want anyone to fall in love with you because of some chemical that effected their brain. So it was no surprise that all you in your experience of encounters was a handful of kisses. Some of these were unwelcome, as were multiple other advances. Luckily, you had the good sense of taking a few defense classes and had managed to escape.

Though that didn't mean you weren't scarred from those instances.

Still, despite your condition and the multiple times you had upended your life because some male would become a little too obsessed with you, you still held on to hope. That maybe one day someone would fall in love with you for you.

Who knew you would meet that someone when you were just about to give up hope.

You had been run out of your most recent home by some rather unpleasant people. People who wanted to harvest your blood, extract the scent from it and use it for their own gain. You had no idea how they would do that, but you weren't about to stick around and find out. So, you had packed up with just the essentials and escaped into the night.

They were persistent. And for more then a few weeks you took to wandering the countryside and trying to evade capture. You went from one state to the other. You allowed your body to accumulate dirt and grime to mask your scent even more. But, truthfully? You were beginning to loose hope of ever finding peace again.

There you were, crouching in some alleyway in New York, clutching your bag to your chest and trying your best to avoid detection as you sobbed softly, cursing your ability that had brought nothing but misery to you ever since it originated.

                                           ————————–

Since his return from alternate Earth and meeting his two other alternate selves, Peter had been feeling better. At least emotionally. There had been something about that comradery that had him forgetting all of his sorrows and just focusing on the bigger picture. On hoping that he would find love and family just like the other Peters had.

And it helped that Peter had told him not to give up hope. To keep looking for his own MJ. And though Gwen would always be his first love, she would want him to move on wouldn't she?

Still it would take time before all of that happened, but at least he was on the path of healing.

What he hadn't expected that his road to love would start with a scent that would overcome his senses and have him nearly falling from the sky as he swung through the city.

It was a sweet scent that coiled through the air. Something stirred within him, an urge that pushed him to find the source as soon as he could.

And perhaps it was that feeling that compelled him, or maybe it was the way the scent clung to his very skin, calling out to him like a siren that had him swinging towards the source.

As the scent grew stronger, his mind continued to make deductions.

It was definitely feminine. He didn't know how he knew, he just did. And while the initial scent was sweet and alluring, he could also sense several underlying emotions that was masked by the powerful scent.

Fear. Loathing. Hopelessness.

Again he had no idea how he deduced that. Maybe this was another one of his powers? He knew he had not unlocked all of them. Besides didn't he read that some spiders had the ability smell with their feet and through their hair? maybe this was some extension of his spider sense?

The scientist side of him was rather curious about all this, however the side of him that urged him to find the source faster won out for now, and he dropped into the alley where the scent was strongest.

                                           ————————–

The sudden arrival of the masked hero had your heart beating faster then ever. Normal males you could handle, but one who was super-powered? How would you fight him off?!

You watched as he craned his neck and you knew he was sniffing the air, trying to detect where you were. You closed your eyes, hoping and wishing and praying you would suddenly disappear.

No such luck.

The trash can you were hiding behind was pushed to the side and you had no choice but to open your eyes and look at Spider-man as he stood in front of you.

"Please don't hurt me." The whimper was falling from your lips before you even thought about it.

For his part Peter couldn't help but stare.

While the scent had gotten stronger, confirming that it was indeed coming from you, there was nothing much he could do now instead just look at you.

You had gotten incredibly thin during your weeks on the run. You were covered in dirt and your clothes were torn in many places. Not to mention the soot that partially covered your face from where you had rubbed it on you in an attempt to mask your scent a little more.

He also took in the fear that he could now scent much clearer. The way your eyes were wide with it, and how your body trembled.

It broke something in him, and despite his instincts screaming otherwise he pushed the effects of your scent to the side.

Though not before inhaling deeply one last time to allow your scent to consume his very being.

His body didn't seem to like what he did, perhaps while one part of him thought the scent irresistible, another part saw it as a threat and sought to dispel the scent from his body with a very loud sneeze.

The sudden reaction had you blinking up at him in surprise, your initial fear forgotten.

Given the nature of your ability, you had read almost everything there was about airborne particles. And you knew that sneezing was a way of the body rejecting these particles.

A small spark of hope ignited in your chest as you bit your lower lip before speaking. "Please, I need help."

The desperation in your eyes and the fact that you had reached out to him for help was the last straw. The last of his initial urge took a backseat and he gave a nod as he reached out a hand to help you up.

"Lets get you someplace safe."

                                           ————————–

That first encounter had been rather awkward.

And it certainly didn't stop there.

Once you were in the aforementioned safe place, which was his apartment, he set you down on the floor and you were quick to put some distance between the both of you.

You had volunteered to walk to the address he gave you, with him keeping a lookout as you did. He hadn't offered to pick you up, probably thinking it was a bad idea given how your scent was calling to him.

Still he needed to pick you up to enter from the open window of his apartment. Safety reasons, he had said, didn't want anyone in the building to have seen you walk in.

Still those brief seconds, where your bodies had pressed together, he had been hit with your scent and while it was masked with other scents and was definitely muted, it was enough to make him feel.....something he didn't wish to think about for fear his thoughts would get away from him. Then he had sneezed again and all those thoughts dissipated.

"Why don't you clean up and get comfortable?" He offered, waving in the direction of the bathroom. At your stricken gaze he held up his hands in a placating manner. "Don't worry. I promise I won't do anything. I can control myself. Besides, I'm gonna go and do a patrol around the block. Make sure we weren't followed." Also because he wanted to give you time to adjust, which honestly, as you dwelled on it later, was rather thoughtful of him.

As you gazed at your reflection in the still foggy mirror, you couldn't help but allow yourself to smile at hos relaxed you felt. Not to mention how nice it felt to be clean again!

Giving your hair one last shake to get rid of any water droplets you stepped out of the bathroom, only to be greeted with the sight of Spiderman without his mask.

He must've heard you because his gaze turned towards you at the same time.

And you stared.

And he stared.

For how long? Neither of you really knew.

While the scent had been dull before, surely it was at it's peak now. And while his olfactory senses focused on the scent, his eyes were busy taking you in and wandering just how he had missed your beauty before. He could blame the dirt and grime that had covered you from head to toe.

Your thoughts were no better then Peter's. You hadn't expected him to take off his mask, and the sight of the young man, who didn't look that much older then you, had you doing a double take. He was handsome, there was no denying that. You wandered just how comfortable you felt in his presence, despite having met him not even an hour ago.

Finally, Peter cleared his throat and scratching the back of his head, an act he did when he was nervous, he spoke. "So, mind telling me what kind of trouble you're in?"

                                           ————————–

That night you told him everything.

Starting from when you had developed your ability to the multiple times you had been forced to leave, and now the people who were after you. For once in your life you didn't hold back. Everything that had ever happened to you came spilling out and it just felt so nice to share your troubles with someone else. Someone who could actually help.

Because thats exactly what Peter did. As soon as you were done telling your story, and explaining your ability he explained how he was also partially a scientist and, if you were to give permission, he could draw some blood from you and figure out your abilities.

Maybe even find a way to help you suppress it.

Where a few hours ago you had scarcely allowed yourself to hope, now your eyes swam with tears and you couldn't help but feel your heart swell. You thanked him, over and over, till he had to ask you to stop. And if you could, you probably would've hugged him.

But for now, you were content to remain with him until the danger was past and perhaps you would emerge from this ordeal with a cure for your abilities.

                                           ————————–

What had initially been a stay for a week or so slowly turned into months. The threat to your life had been taken care of, courtesy of a few well-placed calls by Peter, but now you stayed with Peter because you felt safe. And Peter, being the kind-hearted person that he was, had opened his home to you for as long as you needed.

You had been able to find a job at a nearby local flower store. You had no desire to live with Peter for free. You would be paying for your things, as well as whatever rent and utilities that came your way. Honestly, Peter was grateful that you were helping out. Living by himself hadn't been cheap, not to mention he had to keep his job at the Daily Bugle, and make sure the city was safe.

So having you to help out, was definitely a plus in his books.

Other then that though, there was also the pleasure of the company the both of you gave each other.

You had been hesitant at first, thinking that perhaps your abilities was what compelled him to take an interest in you. And you had even voiced it once, when Peter had demanded to know why you looked so scared when he came into the room.

Of course his entire demeanor had changed, and he had explained how while your sweet scent did call out to him, another part of him saw the scent as a potential threat and so rejected it completely. Of course, he let out the part where the former was much much stronger then the latter, but given your backstory, and all that you had gone through, Peter thought that it was probably for the best that you had some sort of relief from not being scared all the time.

Studying your blood was a rather interesting thing.

And he did figure out a little trick that would help suppress your abilities.

Not all the way, but enough so that people wouldn't be effected by you.

He had presented you with a perfume he had created specifically for you. One that had several chemicals mixed into it to mask your sweet scent. You had been hesitant at first, saying you had tried perfumes before, but he had only smiled at you and winked.

"You've never tried a Parker Original."

You had giggled at that, before nodding and agreeing to try it out.

That day he had taken you outside. At first you had clung to his arm, afraid that the next man passing by would begin to follow you, but to your surprise no one did.

Not a single man or woman glanced in your direction.

Throughout the entire walk around the block your heart was racing in your chest, fear and excitement coursing through your body. Peter had been a constant at your side, a comforting presence, ready to defend you if the need arose.

And once the both of you returned home, you had promptly burst into tears. Peter had panicked a little, thinking something was wrong, but you simply shook your head at his inquiry and threw your arms around him in an embrace that had his heart picking up speed, and for his body to grow warm.

And it had nothing to do with your scent, for he could not detect it anymore either.

                                           ————————–

From that day on, everything changed.

The entire world was open to you now. You could go anywhere, go back home, start your own business.

But you found yourself where you were. Living with Peter in his small apartment.

An apartment you had begun to see as home. Why? Because you had strewn several decorations of your own choosing all around it. You had filled the cupboards with snacks that you and Peter both loved. You had a little corner where your bed was in the living room, which was your own personal space.

But most of all?

You didn't want to leave because Peter was here.

Over the course of the past few months, you had actually begun to fall in love with him.

It had been a slow process, because in the beginning you hadn't allowed yourself to feel anything. Thinking that perhaps it was simply gratitude that you felt because of how much he was helping you out. But surely gratitude didn't make your heart beat faster every time he smiled at you.

Gratitude didn't make you daydream about kissing him.

Gratitude didn't make you want to see him smile. To make him smile. He had such a lovely smile.

And gratitude certainly did not make you dream about him in the most sinful of ways at night.

While you struggled with your own feelings for him, wandering if they were true or not, Peter was in his own little turmoil.

He didn't know when it had happened, but he knew that he had begun to fall for you.

Maybe it was your sweet disposition. How you would always have something kind to say to him. A trait he was surprised you had given how cruel the world had been to you.

Perhaps it was your ability to make him feel wanted. Wanted more then just as Spiderman. You made him feel wanted as Peter Parker.

His falling for your definitely had something to do with the fact that you made him feel less alone in the world, and made him want to actually live again. If you could face the world with a smile, despite all that you had faced then why couldn't he?

                                           ————————–

It all came to a head one night.

That night spritzing the special perfume had slipped your mind for some reason or the other. And after so long of not scenting it in the air, Peter was instantly able to pick up on it as soon as he came home.

It didn't help that you were standing there with popcorn and an offer for a movie, wearing one of his old shirts.

If your scent alone didn't drive him crazy, then his own scent mixed with yours would certainly serve the purpose.

You both sat together on the sofa, side by side, barely an inch apart, your shoulders brushing as the movie began. But neither of you were really paying attention to what was happening on the screen.

There was something different about tonight, you could both feel it. And while your scent contributed to it, it wasn't the only factor. You kept glancing at one another out of the corner of your eyes, looking away when your eyes would meet by accident.

His barefoot briefly brushed against yours, prompting your entire body to warm at that brief contact.

It wasn't until the two characters on screen were confessing their love for one another, that you finally allowed your gazes to meet properly.

And held.

It held long enough for the both of you to slowly start leaning towards one another. You briefly caught sight of the credits beginning to roll from the corner of your eyes, before your eyelids dropped lower, and your lips pressed against Peter's.

That first kiss was sweet and tender. Loving and affectionate. Neither of you pulled back, and you had no desire to pull back.

Not as Peter's hands came up to play with your hair. And certainly not when you ran his hand down his chest and melted against him when he took the kiss further.

The intensity of the emotions you felt in that moment prompted your abilities to increase the level of pheromones. And while Peter had the good sense to pull back, you only moaned in disappointment at the loss of his lips against your own.

"Are you sure?" He breathed against your neck, where he had placed his head on your shoulder, nuzzling his nose against your neck to inhale your sweet sweet scent.

You nodded, smoothly reaching down to grab the hem of the shirt your wore, and sliding it from your body and tossing it aside.

"I have never been more surer of anything in my entire life." You whispered, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

And that was the final words of coherency you spoke the rest of the evening.

Whatever self-control he had been holding on to, broke completely. Neither of you had a proper memory of that night as you fell into each other's arms, allowing yourself to be swept away by the throes of passion.

Lips met in passionate embraces. Hands explored bare skin. Legs intertwined. Your sweet arousal merging with his own, creating a symphony of scents that had your skin burning with need. Sinful sounds echoing in both your ears as a new pleasure spot would be discovered. Bodies meeting in a dance that allowed you both to reach the peak of your pleasure.

What you did recall the next day, was the feeling of complete and utter bliss as you woke in his arms. And as he stirred and opened his eyes as well, you hoped and prayed that you would get to see him smiling like that every morning for the rest of your days.

And as for Peter? Well, he was sure he had finally found his MJ.

You.

[strawberrygrungecake]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

hi everyone! welcome to my blog!!

𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄:

my name is kylie! i've been writing since 2018, and after a long break, i've decided to get back into it. music is one of my favorite things ever, so i mainly write about that. some of my favorite bands include sum 41, blink-182, metallica, nirvana, my chemical romance and SO MANY other bands that will eventually be mentioned on here.

𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐈 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑:

- metallica (james, lars, cliff, kirk, jason)

- blink-182 (tom & mark)

- sum 41 (maybe if i get requests?) (cone, stevo, dave, deryck)

!! this list will most likely change and/or expand over time !!

𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎:

taking requests! i will be taking requests so please feel free to ask for anything you’d like to see! i will try to get to them asap. before requesting, i kindly ask that you refer to my lists of what i will and will not write. any requests that go against those guidelines will be deleted. thank you!

will write! fluff, smut, angst, fem!reader, gn!reader, head cannons, one-shots.

will not write! male x male (as a female, i don’t feel comfortable writing this as i don’t have experience in that area), age/role play, noncon, hardcore fetishes, etc. !! will add to this if necessary !!

warnings! since this blog will include smut, i kindly ask that any minors do not interact with those specific posts. i will do my part and include a warning before each post!

other accounts! i also have a wattpad account under the same name. that is the account i use to publish series, although i currently don’t have anything published. i’ll probably be more active on here than i will on there.

safe space! this blog is meant to be a welcoming and safe space for everyone. therefore, no hate of any kind will be tolerated here. this includes any form of racism, homophobia, transphobia, etc. in addition to that, feel free to reach out whenever! i’m always here to talk and i’d love to make some new friends!

[gloomzombie]

I'll Bury You For This

Pairings: Jeff the Killer X Male Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,554

Chapter Five: The Pros and Cons of Breathing

Ch.1 , Ch.2 , Ch.3 , Ch.4

August 21. 12:34pm.

Gage’s arms around me aren’t enough to pull me out of the blurry and noisy state my mind is in. His lips press against my cheek before he pulls out of the hug. “I’ll see you Monday, then?” He asks, and I nod. Though he’s right here, he sounds so far away. “See you,” I responded. I hesitate for a second before giving him a small kiss. “Bye Gage,” I whisper. His face flushes. “Bye, Y/N.” I get on my bike that was left just outside his door, and take off down the pristine pavement.

The ride home is quick, not only because of the relatively short distance, but also because I’m not paying attention. I got to the house faster than I really wanted to. I’m putting my bike down against the house without really registering it. Only when I’m at the door do I take a second to slow down. I sigh heavily. I don’t want to go. Why did I waste my time with Gage like that? I wish I could’ve stayed. I shake my head and stick my key into the knob, twisting open the door.

When I walk in, John isn’t there. Thank god. I shut the door behind me quietly and make my way down the hallway just as silent. I peek into his room to see him passed out on his bed, snoring. I quickly go into my room, then shut and lock the door. I sit my backpack down next to my bed and lie down in it. Ugh. Going from Gage’s back to this is terrible. I take my phone out and check the time. 12:47pm. I bite my lip. I guess I should start getting ready.

I got up and changed outfits, because for some reason I didn’t bring some for today; this morning I changed into what I wore yesterday, which did not smell good. The stench of cigarettes and beer isn’t exactly pleasant. I slip into some more comfortable pants that I got from the last time I went to Hot Topic, along with a My Chemical Romance shirt I got the same day (with a long sleeve underneath of course). I slide a studded belt through the loops on my pants. I don’t feel like being extra today, so I leave the accessories at that. 

I unzip my backpack and take out my meds along with the water bottle I left in there yesterday. I press the capsule pill to my tongue and swallow it down with gulps of water. I hope I don’t get a headache this time because I never did take one yesterday. I sit back down on my bed. I’ll just listen to music until it’s time to leave, starting with Siouxsie and the Banshees. 

August 21. 1:54pm.

I took the familiar route to my favorite bookstore. I figured I should walk since he usually drives me in his car once we meet up. I’m not entirely sure how that’s gonna go. The last time I was in his car, he made me drive (illegally, I don’t have a license) while he and his ex made out drunkenly in the backseat. All throughout the walk, my mind was swarmed with a buzzing sound. Not literally, but it might as well have been just sound with the way I couldn’t stop fucking thinking.

I’m sweating by the time I reach the store, only slightly, but enough to make me feel disgusting. The lovely breezes at night have been getting cooler, but it has barely dented the warmer weather during the day. I wish I wore a tank top today, but even just the thought of having people stare at my arms and wrists makes my skin crawl. I hate attention, especially the bad kind.

I sigh as I sit down on the sidewalk, beside the door. I watch cars and bikes pass by as I listen to music, waiting for Xander’s car to show up. I hum along to the lyrics of I Will Not Bow by Breaking Benjamin. I will not bow / I will not break / I will shut the world away / I will not fall / I will not fade / I will take your breath away.

I sit up at the sight of his black toyota pulling into the parking spot in front of me. I pause the song and take out my earbuds, putting them back into my pocket. I stand up, brushing off my pants and sliding my phone into my back pocket. I suddenly wished I wore a light jacket so I had something to do with my hands, though that wouldn’t have been great due to the heat. I could’ve worn just the jacket if I had thought about it.

I think he trimmed his hair up, because it looks all choppy, much more so than before. His hair’s been freshly dyed black too, some dye still staining his neck. He walks up to me, his hands shoved into the pockets of his skinny jeans somehow. “Hey Y/N.” He smiles at me and it makes me feel nervous. He’s gonna want to talk to me about whatever it is later it seems.

“Hey Xan.” I respond coolly. I’ve already decided I’m letting him do all the talking until he wants to address the elephant in the room. “Well, let’s go.” he responds after a second of staring at me. Weird. I lead the way inside. “Where do you wanna go?” I ask and turn to look at him. He shrugs. “I dunno. I guess wherever you go the most.” I roll my eyes and walk down the countless bookshelves into many different rooms. 

I can feel his hand touch mine a few times, which makes my eyebrows furrow. I don’t say anything about it, as his touch doesn’t linger, but it’s still really weird. He doesn’t usually do physical affection with me; that’s something he saves for his girlfriends and hookups and crushes, even though that’s not the word he likes to use for them.

We make it to the familiar Y/A + Horror section, a section that I always visit. I tap my finger on my chin as I look down the aisles. I didn’t think about buying any books today, but I probably will- especially since Xander’s paying for lunch. “So, what do you usually get when you come here?” I hear him ask from the front of the area. He’s looking at the Stephen King books, though I doubt he’s gonna buy anything from a bookstore. 

“Whatever’s on my list. I just finished a series, so I don’t have much to really start with now.” I bend down at the knees to look at the bottom of the fantasy shelf. I carefully picked out a book- Realm Breaker by Victoria Aveyard. “You have a list?” I stand up straight and walk down an aisle back to the novels. I picked up one of the books that they stood up straight and examined it- Girl in Pieces by Kathleen Glasgow. I’ve heard really good reviews about it. 

I take the books in my arms, holding them close. “Yeah. How else am I gonna keep track of all the books I’ve read, and all the ones I want to read?” I ask, walking up to where he’s standing. He’s looking at the Twilight books. “Think I’m gonna get one.” He mutters. I stare at him, my eyes widening. “Really?” I ask. “Twilight?”

“Well yeah. Is there something wrong with that?” He gives me a glare. I shake my head. Why is he being so defensive? “Of course not. Just, why Twilight?” I ask, looking not at him, but at the bookshelf. “Because I know you really liked those books, and hated the movies apparently,” He murmurs in the last part. His words rattle in my brain. I don’t understand them. He’s never shown interest in my interests like this. So what changed? Maybe he feels bad about practically leaving me to deal with my shit alone for months straight. But, then again, I know him well enough to know that probably isn’t true. Xander suddenly gaining a conscience? Please.

“Well, yeah. They left out so many important scenes from the books, and oh my god, don’t get me started on how they changed the way Rosalie tells Bella her story in Eclipse.” He laughs. “Guess I’ll have to read the books first then.” I look back at him and he’s already looking at me, a small smile on his lips. My face heats up. “Yeah. You will.”

I shake my head a little and step back. “But you really don’t have to buy one. You can borrow mine. I have the whole set plus Midnight Sun.” I offer. I’ve underlined stuff in the books, but it's just a romance- not anything personal, so I’m really not worried about him reading them. He looks down at the book in his hands. Slowly, he shakes his head. “Nah. I think I want to start collecting books the way you do.” He looks back up at me. “Do you think I should get New Moon too?” 

We make our way through the endless hallways to the front with our books. I placed mine on the checkout counter. “Just these two?” Melissa asks. I still have to thank her for the last time I was here; she rounded my total down because I didn’t bring enough cash. But not while Xander’s here. As I go to speak, he interrupts me. “Four. I’ll be paying,” He places his books beside mine. Melissa nods and starts scanning the books. I glare at him. I can feel my face grow unbearably hot. Why is he paying for me?

“Your total is 48 dollars and 34 cents for two used hardcovers and two new paperbacks. Cash or card?” Melissa smiles at me, then looks at Xander. After he hands her the cash, he takes our books into his arms before I get the chance to take mine. He smiles at me, then leads the way to the door. As soon as the door shuts, I pull my books from his arms into my own. “I can pay for my fucking self, you know.” 

I don’t wait to see his reaction. I step down onto the pavement and stand by his passenger door, waiting for him to unlock it. I stare at my reflection in the glass. I grimace and open the door as soon as I hear it unlock. I slide in and place my books down in my lap before closing the door. I put on my seatbelt and stare at the books, running my hand over the cover of Girl in Pieces. I distract myself by thinking about how different the cover feels than most paperbacks I own. It’s soft somehow; pretty looking and pretty feeling. 

“I didn’t know that’d make you so upset,” Xander speaks through the silence, starting the car. I chew on my bottom lip, tearing the skin. I fight the nerves and look over at him. His eyes are on the road as he pulls out of the parking lot. Have his hands always looked that good? They’re more veiny looking than I remember. He’s probably practicing with his guitar again. 

I sigh. “Sorry for that. There’s a lot on my mind and I-” “No, no. I’m sorry. For assuming you wanted me to pay, and, well…” He trails off, and as I look at his face, I see how he looks different, even there. There’s a softness to his features that wasn’t really there before. He looks somehow different than he did a few months ago.

“Where do you want to eat?” he asks, his fingers tapping the wheel to the beat of the music. I look away. “I don’t know, really. Anything is fine.”

He takes us to the diner we used to go to every other day. I think it makes me emotional, but I can’t really tell if it’s this, or if I was already feeling it. When our food is ready, he takes it in one hand and, weirdly enough, mine in the other. What’s happened to him that he’s wanting so much physical affection from me? When we get in the car, I place my books in the backseat with his so I can hold the food. I lean my head up against the window as he drives silently to the park, with A Day To Remember playing in the background. 

As he drove, I kept my phone by my leg. That’s usually not a great sign, when I don’t use my phone the way I always do. It’s getting bad again, I’m sure. I never realize it until I’m already deep in it.

He parks the car, but sits there for a moment. “Y/N?” he asks. I look over at him. He’s got this sort of pained expression on his face. One I’ve only ever seen once. When his dad cheated on his mom and the yelling, throwing things, and beating started; he’d come sneak into my room through the window I’m not allowed to open. It was the only time I really felt like we could’ve been something more, even though I knew even then it wasn’t happening. 

I’d let him cry into my shirt, clinging onto me as if I was the only thing he needed. And I was, but not in the way I really wanted. He’d talk to me about it through sobs while I rubbed his back, and wiped the tears from his eyes. Those were the moments I really knew I loved him. And even now, some twisted part of me still does. God I can’t think about that anymore, can I? 

“Yeah?” I bite my lip. He turns to meet my stare, and it looks as if he’s about to cry. “Y/N..” He whispers, and his hands move from his lap up to my face. It feels like my throat is closing up. I can’t breathe, so I turn my head away, his hands retreating back. “Let’s go,” I say, opening the car door quickly and sliding out. I shut the door and look around.

This place used to have more woods, but then they started adding to the playground- more climbing rocks, swings, and other weird stuff I can’t put a name to. I start walking to the picnic tables when I hear his door shut. I sit down on one of them, Xander taking a seat in front of me. We take the food out of the bag and start eating in silence. 

I can’t help but think about the way he’s been acting today. It’s so different from how I know him. It’s kind of worrying me. I gaze at him, his attention on his food. I examine his face more. His eyes are sunken, though the lines under his eyes are only slightly noticeable. I look him down and I notice he’s gotten skinnier. Skinnier than usual of course, as he always was twig like. 

His eyes meet mine and my face heats up, my eyes drop down to the fries I haven’t finished. I eat a few more, and after a few seconds, Xander speaks up. “I’m 3 weeks sober, y’know.” I raise my eyebrows and look up at him again. He’s still looking at me, but his facial expression is serious. Of course it is, this is something serious.

“Really? From what?” I ask and immediately regret it. He grimaces and I realize that’s really not something I should ask since there’s so much it could be. “Sorry.” “No, it’s fine.” He sighs, looking back down at his food. “Everything, Y/N. The drugs, the alcohol…the cutting too,” he mutters. He jams a fry harshly into the ketchup dumped onto his hamburger wrapper. “Well, everything but cigarettes. I won’t be able to quit those for a while, or at least not anytime soon.” I nod. “Hey, that’s awesome Xander. Really, I’m proud of you.” For the first time in months, I reached out to touch him, caressing his hand. He looks back up at me, and I can see the tears welling up in his eyes. 

I can’t help but feel like crying too. In the past few days, I’ve been getting more and more prone to it. I usually don’t cry nearly as much as I have this week. More reason to believe it’s getting bad again. Though I guess this is different. Reasonable. My best friend is sober for probably the first time in years. This is the farthest he’s gotten with it; he’s only ever been able to get to one week before he starts with, “Y/N, please let me drink some of your beer. I promise it’ll be just one drink,” or “Pass me the bong, will you? I know, I just couldn’t take it anymore. You understand, don’t you Y/N?” 

He turns his palm upwards, holding my hand in his. “Thanks. That means a lot.” I smile, and he smiles too. A sad smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. I pull my hand back, and his smile drops. “Besides that..” He starts, and takes a deep breath. “I wanted to…apologize.” Well, that I did not expect. Hoped for? Yes. Expected? Absolutely not. 

I wait a few seconds before responding. “For…what?” I ask. His fingers tap on the wooden table. “For…well, being an asshole. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out before, or come to school, or-” He inhales sharply, looking anywhere but at me. “Did you not come to school because of..me?” I ask, my jaw dropping a little. I never thought he did that because of ME. 

He nods, still not looking at me. “Not all of it was because of you. There were a lot of reasons. Mainly because of how fucking hard it is to go there and want to stay sober, but it was also because I can’t stand all the attention anymore. It was because I didn’t want to see my shit ton of exes again or..” he sighs before looking at me, finally. “I didn’t want to see you because looking at you made me feel...bad.” 

I blink. How do I feel about this new information? How am I supposed to feel about it? I chew on my lip as I process what he’s just said. He doesn’t like all those girls that follow him around? All the girls that surround him constantly? And looking at me makes him feel bad? “Why?” I ask. I have to know. 

He hesitates, his fingers scratching at the table. “Uh..Well…” He groans, moving his hands up to cover his face. He mutters something into his hands, but I can’t understand it. “What?” He slams his hands down on the table and I flinch. “Because I can’t stand to look at you when you don’t look at me.” My brows furrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He stares at me, his deep brown eyes piercing into mine. Suddenly, his hands are cupping my face the way they did in the car. In a quick motion, he pulls my head forward and his lips meet mine. I’m so taken off guard by this that I sit still for a bit. What the fuck? I push him away from me, swing my legs over the bench and stand up quickly. “What the fuck? What the fuck is wrong with you?!” I’m screaming at him and I don’t even care. “Who the hell do you think you are doing that to me?” I’m breathing in and out so harshly, it feels like my lungs are on fire. 

“Y/N-” “Kiss my ass, Xander. I loved you. I loved you for so many fucking years. And when I’m finally, FINALLY, getting over your ass you go and do this? And I’m supposed to just go along with it?” My face feels so wet; my throat feels like it’s closing up and I’m choking on the words that spit out of my mouth.

I start to laugh, but it sounds and feels so wrong with all the crying mixed with it. “What the hell is wrong with you, Xander? And I started to believe you were getting your shit together,” I pick up my trash and move as fast as I can to the nearest trash can. The sound of crunching leaves follows me. “Y/N please,” He whines as I throw out my trash. I spin on my heels to face him. I don’t think twice about it; I punch him in the face as hard as I can. 

He’s shocked, flinching away from me as soon as my fist pulls back. His nose is bleeding, and I’m sure it feels even worse with the tears streaming down his face. “I loved you too. I just didn’t realize it,” He’s sobbing; there’s so many cracks in his voice I barely understand what he’s saying. “Just leave me alone, Xander.” My voice is just as pitiful sounding as his. He pleads with me more, begging me not to leave. I don’t care. I don't care. I take off, sprinting out of the park as fast as my feet will let me.