#this project went wrong in so many ways

[inzanitie]

Look at my trebuchet

Look at it with fear >:D

[faerociousbeast]

hmmmm.hmmhmhmhmhmhmmmmmmm i think ive figured it out

[sarahreesbrennan]

Are all the themes in “in other lands” supposed to be a commentary on something? Or do you just like writing sex scenes between minors, age gaps, and reverse misogyny?

Genuine question.

Ohhh, my dear anon, I don't believe this is a genuine question.

But it does bring up something I've been meaning to talk about. So I'll take the bait.

Firstly. Yes, my work contains a commentary on the world around us. I wonder what I could be doing with the child soldiers being sexually active in their teens (people hook up right after battles), and the age gap relationship ending in the younger one being too mature for the elder. What could I possibly have been attempting when I said 'how absurd gender roles are, when projected onto people we haven't been accustomed by our own society to see that way'? I wasn't being subtle, that's for sure.

Secondly. Yes I do enjoy writing! I think I should, it's my life's work. Am I titillated by my own writing, no - though I think it's fine to be. The sex scenes of In Other Lands aren't especially titillating, to be honest. It is interesting to me how often people sneer at women for writing romance and sex scenes, having 'book boyfriends,' insinuating women writers fancy their own characters. Women having too much immoral fun! Whereas men clearly write about sex for high literary purposes.

… I have to say from my experience of women and men's writing, I haven't found that to be true.

I’m not in this to have an internet argument. Mostly people use bad faith takes to poke at others from the other side of a screen for kicks. But I do know some truly internalise the attitude that writing certain things is wrong, that anyone who makes mistakes must be shunned as impure, and that is a deeply Victorian and restrictive attitude that guarantees unhappiness.

I've become increasingly troubled by the very binary and extreme ways of thinking I see arising on the internet. They come naturally from people being in echo chambers, becoming hostile to differing opinions, and the age-old conundrum of wanting to be good, fearing you aren't, and making the futile effort to be free of sin. It makes me think of Tennyson, who when travelling through Ireland at the time of the Great Famine, said nobody should talk about the 'Irish distress' to him and insisted the window shades of his carriage be shut as he went from castle to castle. So he wouldn't see the bodies. But that didn't make the bodies cease to be.

In Les Mis, Victor Hugo explores why someone might steal, what that means about them and their circumstances, and who they might be - and explores why someone else is made terribly unhappy, and endangers others, through their own too rigid adherence to judgement and condemnation without pity. The story understands both Jean Valjean the thief and Javert the policeman. Javert’s way of thinking is the one that inevitably leads to tragedy.

Depiction isn't endorsement. Depiction is discussion.

Many of my loved ones have had widely varying relationships to and experience of sex (including 'none'). They've felt all different types of ways about it. If writing about them is not permissible, I close them out. I'd much rather a dialogue be open than closed.

I do understand the urge to write what seems right to others. I've been brain-poisoned that way myself. I used to worry so much about my female characters doing the wrong things, because then they'd be justly hated! Then I noted which of my writer friends had people love their female characters the most - and it was the one who wrote their female characters as screwing up massively, making rash and sometimes wrong decisions. Who wrote them as people. Because that's what people do. That's what feels true to readers.

I want my characters to feel true to readers. I want my characters to react in messy ways to imperfect situations. I love fantasy, I love wild action and I love deep thought, and I want to engage. That's what In Other Lands is about. That's even more what Long Live Evil is about. That sexy lady who sashays in to have sexy sex with the hero - what is her deal? Someone who tricks and lies to others - why are they doing that, how did they get so skilled at it? What makes one person cruelly judgemental, and another ignore all boundaries? What makes Carmen Maria Machado describe ‘fictional queer villains’ as ‘by far the most interesting characters’? What irritates people about women having a great time? What attracts us to power, to fiction, and to transgression?

I don’t know the answers to all those questions, but I know I want to explore them. And I know one more thing.

If the moral thing to do is shut people out and shut people up? Count me among the villains.

[ghostfacd]

SAVE THE GIRL

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!mentor!reader

summary: when you start to feel bad for the tributes, it’s when snow slowly starts to crack. when you snuck into the arena to properly send your goodbyes to one is when he loses it, making it his mission to get you out, even if it means costing his life

warnings: SPOILERS. descriptions of killing, Snow being a bad friend to Sejanus and manipulative, reader essentially replaces Sejanus in the movie’s original scene

“We all know how this works right guys?” Lucky Flickerman says, his eyes held a sparkle within them. “As soon as your tribute dies, you’re out!”

The screen flickers on the arena, its dusty surroundings filled you with a sense of dread.

You had gotten Lamina, a girl who you were afraid would die as soon as the timer went off. But she managed to impress you, and completely won you over when she had speared the other tributes’ pain and suffering by killing them with an axe.

“Coryo,” you whisper to the blonde hair boy who was almost drifting into sleep. “Coryo.”

“Hm?” He fixes his posture, “is something wrong with Lucy Gray?”

You shake your head, and only pointed to the empty desks surrounding you. “Many died.”

“Your point?”

It almost seems as if Coriolanus was bored of your commentary, he probably was, you did wake him from his sleep.

“This doesn’t feel right Coryo. Not at all. Any of it.”

Coriolanus lets out a breath of annoyance. It was always like that with him, he seemed always to be one step ahead—or at least he presented himself in that way, and he seemed like he was annoyed with anyone who wasn’t on the same level as him.

You and Coriolanus went way back. You were the first few to have known of the death of his father, Coriolanus had told you about it with tears in his eyes. Not because he missed his father, not really, but because he was afraid that there would be nothing left of the Snow family by the time the war was over.

When you first entered the Academy, Snow linked himself with Clemensia Dovecote, a pretty black haired girl who he had gotten close with, and if anyone didn’t know better, they might’ve been more than just friends. But Coriolanus and Clemensia came off as acquaintances by association to you more than anything.

He stopped doing group projects with you so he could do it with her, and he had made himself friendly with Sejanus, a boy who was originally from the Districts but managed to buy his way into the Capitol. Or at least, that’s what all of your seething classmates said as they looked at him in disgust.

“You sound like Sejanus.” Is all Coriolanus says, glancing back at his small television screen.

“Sejanus is our friend, Coryo.”

“Sejanus is district.” Coriolanus slams his hand on your desk, making you flinch. “No matter how much money he has, no matter how much he tries to fit in, he will always be district. And you? You might as well be district with him if you keep acting like this.”

Your brows furrow, and you start to get angry. Who the fuck does Coriolanus Snow think he is?

“And I suppose you’re so well off Capitol yourself, Coriolanus?”

The way your words drip with such venom makes Snow almost crumble, but he doesn’t, instead, choosing to inch his face just a meter over yours. “Don’t say anymore things you don’t mean, Y/N.”

And that was the end of it. Coriolanus Snow wins every argument, and you hated him so much. Why couldn’t he see this was wrong? You knew he had a heart in there somewhere, which was why he was helping Lucy Gray Baird in the first place. Unless he was doing it all for the Plinth prize, for the money.

As you watch your tribute fall to her death, the loud crack adding all to your misery, you wanted to throw the television and desk across the room, just like Sejanus had previously. They were monsters, all of them.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Coriolanus says, his eyes flickering up to meet yours.

But Coriolanus Snow can’t be sorry, he can’t feel empathy, he can’t feel pain, and most importantly, he can’t feel love.

As the games went on, Coriolanus was slumped into his chair, sleep overcoming his senses.

Dr. Gaul clears her throat, her loud but snake like movements made Coriolanus jolt awake, hissing as he accidentally hurt himself on the edges of the desk.

“I see you’re still here, Mr. Snow.”

“Is something wrong?” Coriolanus asks, eyebrows furrowing. “Is Lucy Gray okay?”

“Oh her? She’s fine.” Dr. Gaul waves the girl off like she meant nothing. “It’s your friend, I’m worried about.”

“My friend?” Coriolanus whips his head around to try and find you, but you were gone, leaving no trace.

“Yes.” Dr. Gaul motions to the wide television in front. “She’s in the arena right now. Doing this goodbye thing for her tribute.”

Coriolanus doesn’t want to believe Dr. Gaul, but how could he not when you’re shown so clearly in the cameras, putting flowers into the hand of your tribute. Almost as if you saw her as human.

“Now Miss. L/N hasn’t done anything like this in the past, so it does spark questions in my mind as to why she’s suddenly..” Dr. Gaul pauses. “Rebelling.” She says this as if it were poison on her tongue.

“From Sejanus, I would expect this. But from our own people, Coriolanus? Now this is absurd. I’ll make sure to get the name of the peacekeeper who let her in and have them executed.” Dr. Gaul gives him a smile, one that sends chills up Coriolanus’s back. “Now I happen to know you two are friends, close friends even; so I need you to go into the arena and fetch her out.”

“Me?” Coriolanus stutters out, hesitance clearly showing in his voice.

“Is that hesitance I hear, Mr. Snow?” Dr. Gaul steps even closer. “Everyone in the Capitol is asleep by now, which means they won’t see the foolishness Miss. Y/N is currently causing. You will go into the arena and take her out before she does anything more stupid. I will not let these rebels make mockery of my game, Mr. Snow. I will simply not allow it.”

And Coriolanus knows he has no choice but to obey Dr. Gaul’s orders.

He makes his way quietly into the arena, making sure his footsteps weren’t creating such loud noises to alert the tributes.

“Y/N,” he whispers as he gets close to your kneeling figure. He watches as you slowly put your hand over Lamina’s eyes, closing them for her. “Y/N.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you reply, not bothering to turn around to face the boy.

“But I am.” He grunts out in annoyance. “I’m here to save your ass because that’s what friends do, Y/N. So help me, and get up.”

You don’t listen to him, choosing to keep kneeling and watching your dead tribute instead. She looked peaceful, and you felt so guilty knowing there was nothing you could do to save her.

“Y/N, I mean it.” Coriolanus says in a more assertive tone. “You’re going to die out here. These tributes? They might as well be animals now, they’re gonna kill the both of us if we don’t get out.”

He grunts in annoyance when he doesn’t see you move, so he carefully walks over, placing his arm under yours, practically dragging your body up from your kneeling position.

“Cmon Y/N, you’ve got to help me.” Coriolanus whispers out. “You don’t want to die here, trust me.”

“HEY! YOU!” The two of you whip your head so quickly at the voice that it sends a dizziness into your head. “HEY!”

The remaining tributes, none of them were Lucy Gray, Wovey, or the boy from 11 with speed so quick that it took the breath in your lungs away.

“CMON!” Coriolanus grabs your hand, the both of you fiercely running towards the doors.

One of the tributes with one of his eyes shut had a sharp blade in his hand, successfully slicing into Coriolanus’s back and your arm. The two of you let out a moan of pain, the frenzy feeling of adrenaline overwhelming the both of you.

Coriolanus lets your hand go for a second, pushing the tribute back harshly, managing to make him drop his weapon. Coriolanus picks up one of the broken poles, repeatedly hitting the male tribute with it until his body stopped moving completely.

You thought he’d be done with it, but he lets out a scream of anger, plunging the pole into the tribute’s body, making you shriek out in horror.

“You’re okay, you’re okay!” Coriolanus breathes out to you, practically limping hand in hand with you as he sees the other tributes catching up from the distance. “Open the door!”

The peacekeepers opened the door, closing it right as one of the more fiercer tribute sticks her trident out. “You’re lucky you’ve escaped this time.” She growls out.

You fall onto the ground as soon as Coriolanus lets go of your hand.

“Hey,” he croaks out, kneeling to cup your face into his hands. “Hey, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

He sounds so reassuring, so kind, and not like the Coriolanus you had despised from earlier.

“I..” you can’t even get a word out before you’re full on sobbing, not caring if you were embarrassing yourself in front of Coriolanus and the two peacekeepers.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He places his hand on the back of your head, bringing you into his chest. “Everything’s gonna be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

“No one will ever hurt you, Y/N.”

And if there’s one thing Coriolanus Snow is good at—it’s ensuring he gets what he wants.

[angel-eyes05]

to leave the warmest bed i've ever known

pairing: spiderwoman!reader x miguel o’hara 

summary: after miguel’s fight with miles, you confront him in his office

warnings: this whole thing is basically one big argument there’s SO much angst, implied suicide attempt, HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, im projecting a little in some parts of this ngl (i cried writing a certain section of this, you'll know it when you read it lmao), mentions and descriptions of blood, gore, and death

word count:  4.1k

notes: i watched the movie yesterday…and miguel is on my mind. but i remember reading this namor x reader fanfic after i watched wakanda forever of a similar idea to this and i loved it so this is HEAVILY inspired by that fic, but just make it miguel. i would link it but ngl that was so long ago and i dont remember the author. if i end up finding it again ill put it here. also, just pretend miguel has been doing this whole spider society thing for a couple of years at least, it just needs to work like that for this ik its probably not canon but just roll with it lmao. and yes the title is a taylor swift lyric im so glad you noticed (im so sorry she's in my brain rn with the eras tour)

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The anger boiled up inside your chest as you stormed your way across the lobby. Hundreds of different Spider-Man variants were scattered across the area, some more injured than the others. It sickened you sometimes. How he had so many people under his grasp and just decided to throw some of them at the walls sometimes, not caring how hard they hit the floor because they were all just ammo to him. How despite his denials of it, that’s probably what your role was to him as well. Nothing more than a bullet in his massive machine gun.

You normally tried not to think about it, how his determination towards his goal sometimes meant lack of care for others. But this time he had just gone too far. You always had a soft spot for Miles, watching closely on him whenever Miguel would let you go though scanners of all the different variants. You admired his struggle, but eventual success to taking up the previous Peter’s mantle, and always hated how Miguel talked about him. You knew there was no way Miles could’ve asked for any of this. For the pressures and struggles of being a Spider-Man, for everything causing such a strained relationship with his parents, for the death of his uncle, and for what will be the eventual death of his father. You definitely didn’t.

Ok lets do this one last time. Eh, whatever, there’s probably gonna be 50 other introductions after this one so it doesn’t really matter.

Being Earth-837’s Spider-Man has never been easy. Especially since you were bit when you were only 13 (another reason you sympathized with Miles and Gwen). Your life had followed the order of canon events to a perfect T, your older brother killed in a fight with a robber only two months after you were bit. You tried to overcome the burden of your powers by trying to live as normal of a teenage life as possible, but it was mostly in vain, having to give up multiple friendships and relationships in fear of those you love getting hurt. This was only elevated when your boyfriend Peter was murdered in the crossfire of an encounter with Doc Ock. You didn’t understand. You couldn’t. What you had done to deserve all of this. All you did was just be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You wonder sometimes what would happen if someone was in the same place you were when you got bit. If someone else went to the closed down area of that museum and ran into that spider. That stupid spider that ruined your life. Those thoughts slowly started to disappear for a bit. For a few years things were easy. Things seemed like they were finally going in your favor.

You were 25 when it happened. The last canon event. Ever since you were a little girl you hated your mother’s job. Losing nights of sleep over if she would come home or not. She always did though. She was good at her job. Too good though. Good enough to get promoted to police captain, which for who you were, was basically sealing her fate. She saved so many people that day. You were too busy fighting Venom to notice how much collateral damage you were causing in the process. Your mother’s job was to evacuate all the citizens away from the fight. She died shielding a child from incoming debris. A noble way to go. But god was it gruesome. You found her after the fight was over, two metal poles impaling her. One through her stomach and one straight through her face, pools of blood growing bigger below her as she was left there, all the paramedics busy trying to save the heavily injured. You froze when you finally recognized her, unable to at first due to how mutilated her face was from the pole. Suddenly, you were transported back to being a six year old, falling asleep outside the door to your mother’s bedroom so you would know exactly when she would come home. Purposefully falling asleep in her arms so that she couldn’t go anywhere.

When you used the key she had given you to get into her apartment that night, and you slept in her room, desperate to intake anything left of her before she was fully gone. You doused yourself in her perfume so it still felt like she was standing right behind you. You had always loved her smell. The smell of vanilla, curl product, and fancy perfume. They were attached to memories you had of her. Trying on her heels when you were a kid to try and be fancy like her. Smelling her hair in the morning before school to comfort you before she left for work. Despite all of this bringing you comfort, all it really did was cause further denial in your heart. That one day you were gonna hear the keys clacking in the keyhole to your apartment one more time. That’s all you really wanted. You would give everything up in a heartbeat just to hear her police scanner go off one last time. But it wasn’t going to. And it was your fault. Deep down you knew it was. You should’ve done a better job controlling the debris. You had always been a messy fighter, but you didn’t know it was going to mean anything until it was too late. 

How you got up to the top of that building is still a blur to you to this day. But next thing you know, you were looking at the New York City skyline from the very top of the Empire State Building. And at the very edge too. You heard some sounds behind you, but you just decided it was the wind howling from how high up you were. You were just so tired. Everything and everyone you loved was cursed all because of you. And with your mother as the most recent victim, you decided you finally had enough. You took a deep breath, eyes overflowed with water, as you set your foot forward.

Your plummet was interrupted by a sudden contact you felt to your forearm. Shock filled your body as you turned around to look at what had stopped your attempt. The blue hand was massive, nearly wrapping back around onto itself as it held onto you for dear life. You finally looked up at face that the hand belonged to. The mask that covered the massive figure was a strange one. Blue with strange red silhouettes for the eyes. It kind of reminded you of…your own costume? That couldn’t be though there was no way. This must be the afterlife or something. You already jumped and that's why you didn’t remember your way up to the top. This was some kind of creature trying to stop you from jumping down to hell below. His breaths were heavy and loud, almost like he was desperate to stop you. This convinced you that this was real, which caused you to try to escape from his grip. He was stronger than you, and was putting up a huge fight. You were slick though. Once you were out of his hand, you closed your eyes and quickly made your jump. Everything flashed before your eyes. Your brother, Peter, your mom. You were hoping to see them soon. This was very quickly interrupted again when you suddenly stopped falling. Something had attached itself to your stomach. You opened your eyes. A web? This web was much different than yours though. It was glowing a bright, neon orange.

The man was holding onto the end of it tightly with both hands. His mask then disappeared to show his face. His was long, matching how big the rest of his body was, defined cheek bones sticking out. Brown wavy hair slicked back with a few loose strands flying out in the wind. The look of desperation on his face stook out most of all. Why did he care so much? He didn’t know you, and you definitely didn’t know him. “Let me pull you up. Please,” he said to you between shaky pants. You stared at him for a bit before nodding. He slowly pulled you up with the string of his web, each move more careful than the last. As soon as your feet were planted safely back on the roof of the building, he wrapped you up in his massive arms. You appreciated the gesture, but you didn’t return it, still very confused about why he was so concerned. He was so big around your body though, you couldn’t help but feel a little comforted, feeling his still shaky breaths against the hairs of your neck. Soon after, he clicked on some buttons on his neon orange watch and led you into a portal.

The rest is history. You’re grateful he found you that day. It allowed you to meet so many people, Peter B., Jess, Gwen, Hobie, Ben, Pavitr, Margo. They all related to you and you felt like you could share things with them that you couldn’t do with anyone else. You had grown especially close to Peter and Jess, both of them having been in the game for a long time, just like you. They both knew how you felt, having lost so much and growing so tired after so many years. Peter even named you as Mayday’s godmother when she was born, a gesture that caused you to nearly kill him with your hug. Miguel though was different. He wasn’t nearly as social as the rest of your friends, but you found yourself having much more intimate moments with him (in more ways then one). You eventually found out why Miguel was so concerned for you the day you met. He had taken interest in your abilities early into looking for variants for his little “project”, but refrained from roping you into something so dangerous while you were still in your teens.

Once you were old enough though, he started paying more and more attention, hoping to catch you in a fight and recruit you then. But he was always pulled away with more important duties to attend to. That was until he witnessed your canon event. He had seen it happen so many times before through his scanners. It was going to happen. It had to in order for your universe to not collapse in on itself. But for some reason, yours hurt more than the rest to him. Especially how you coped with it. Seeing you wrap yourself up in her blankets and clothes broke his heart. He knew where this would lead to. That’s why he was there that day. To save you. He had to, or he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. You got your own watch immediately, along with your own room in the Spider Society headquarters. He stayed close with you for the first month of you being a member of the team. When he wasn’t out on missions, he was with you. You didn’t really know what to label you two as, but whatever was going on, you liked it. And he did too.

That is until Miles came into the picture. Once Miles was bit, all hell broke loose for Miguel. He was always in some alternate dimension catching some Spider-Man villain who got out and rangled them back over here, falling back over to you more beat up and bruised than the last time. You couldn’t imagine how much stress he was under, the fate of the entire multiverse up to him. You had some ways of helping him relieve his stress, but you wish you could convince him that he wasn’t alone in this. But nothing ever got through to him. He had become distant, aloof even. You tried bringing it up to Jess every so often, but she would just brush it off.

“That’s how he’s always been.” Not to you he hasn’t. This week has been hell though. With Spot making it over to Miles, Miguel had been going into rages all week. You had put up with it for now, but that was all about to stop. Watching how harsh he was being on Miles, throwing so many Spider-Men at an innocent boy, risking all of their lives in the process. Disregarding everything Gwen and Peter were feeling and then throwing Gwen back into her broken world with nothing. He had gone too far. No one else was going to stand up to him about it, so you knew it had to be you. Maybe he would listen, maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t really matter. He just needed to hear it.

“It’s not worth it you know.” The voice snapped you out of your thoughts, stopping you in your tracks. “You know how stubborn he gets over these things,” said Jess, trying to convince you to save your breath. “I don’t care. I have to at least try,” you responded, monotonically. “I just don’t understand how you can follow him so blindly and not see what he’s doing is wrong.” “Because he isn’t wrong. I don’t know about you, but I’m not just gonna stand by and let some kid’s stupid decisions destroy another Earth,” Jess argued. “He’s just trying to save his dad, I can’t understand how that makes him such a bad person,” you said, finally turning around to face her, shocked when she was closer to you than expected.

“You know exactly why. Don’t be so naive, y/n,” she shot back. “You can’t stop me,” you said staring straight into her. She shrugged. “Then I can’t help you.” She began to walk away. You did to, until you heard her say. “You don’t know how much he cares for you.” You turned around to face her again, but her back was still to you, her head tilted ever so slightly to look at you. “If you really do care for the kid, watch what you say to Miguel right now. Cause you might just give him the final push he needs to do what needs to be done.” You didn’t give her a response, and just simply kept walking. You felt Jess’ eyes on your back as you entered the elevator to get up to Miguel’s office.

The elevator ride up felt longer than it should’ve, as you tried to gather all of your thoughts and emotions together so even if he didn’t listen, your words would still stick with him in some way. You didn’t necessarily want to hurt him (though your fists were telling you otherwise), but you did want him to be aware of what he’s done. Once the doors finally opened, all of that work flew out the window as rage took over your body again, seeing Miguel up there looking at the scanners. The fact that he looked just as normal as he always does made you furious. It’s like nothing happened.

“You know, I could hear you coming in from the lobby,” he said, almost stopping you in your tracks. You hated when he did that. Claiming that he knew what your every move was going to be. Like you were under his control or something. “Yeah, well then you must’ve heard me talking to Jess, which means you know exactly what this is about,” you shot back, stopping to where you could see him perched up there. “Why don’t you just save me the conversation about morality and just come up here and kick my ass already. It’ll save both of us time,” he said, not even taking his eyes off the scanners to look down at you. This only added to your fury. “That’s not what I’m here for Miguel, so don’t you dare try to twist my words here. What you did to that kid was fucked up and you know it.” “Oh yeah, then why didn’t you try to do anything to stop me?” he questioned.

“Because I’m not stupid Miguel. I’m not gonna try to take down hundreds of Spider-Men at once.” “Oh, cause you’re so much better than that?” This wasn’t like him at all. That gentle, kind, and caring Miguel you once knew was gone, taken over by some sort of personal vendetta he had against Miles. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this all needs to stop before it gets taken too far. You’re getting into a fight you can’t win. That kid’s strong and so are his allies. And if you go any further into this, I won’t be here to help you.” He stayed still and only turned his head to look at you. “And what makes you think that you’re so important to my plan that it’ll fall apart if you leave? Have you really become that pretentious?”

Your body froze. Have I really? No no no, that’s exactly what he wants. If you begin to doubt yourself now, you’ll stay and nothing will change. You knew you were right. He was trying to crumble you down, but you wouldn’t let that happen. “And you really think that one kid is going to ruin something that you’ve been working for for years? How insecure you’ve become.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, turning back away from you. You did the same, wiping off your face in anger. “I hate it when you do tha-,” you said as you turned back around, but were cut off to find Miguel standing there right in front of you. He was close. Too close to your liking, although in any other circumstance you would’ve found this attractive.

He tilted his head up, but his eyes were down staring daggers into yours. You hated how much he tried to make himself seem more superior to you. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he repeated, this time slower as if you were a child. “He’s just a kid Miguel,” you said in a low, quiet voice. “An anomaly. And a dangerous one at that.” “God Miguel, all he wants to do is protect his dad, do you know how insane you sound right now?” you said letting out a slight laugh when you finished. You backed away from him a little. “He doesn’t know how much damage he’ll do with this. Saving his father will only prolong the inevitable. His world will be gone within hours if he does this. All I’m trying to do is make him understand,” he tried to explain. “By trying to kill him.” “You always have to exaggerate the situation,” he said palming his face. “But that’s essentially what you’re trying to do isn’t it? Why not snuff out the problem entirely by taking him out!”

He signed and began to walk away while you were talking, bringing up your anger even more. “Yeah, use all the power you’ve accumulated over the years and just take out the small problem! Except this isn’t just a fly on the wall Miguel. This is a child! An innocent boy who didn’t ask for any of this to happen to him, just like how we didn’t. I get it, I’m sorry that this job is stressful, I really am. But that gives you zero right to act the way you are!” You were screaming at him at this point. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want your emotions to get the best of you. But he was being too stubborn. This was the only way you thought you could get to him. You might not have wanted to, but you needed to hurt him now. It was the only way.

“You can’t be so power blind that you refused to accept the fact that there could be a way around Captain Davis’ death. You said we saved Earth’s before, I’m sure we could do it again.” Your anger only kept rising when he kept walking away and didn’t respond. “This is a personal thing isn’t it?” you asked calmly. You knew it was working now when he stopped walking. “Yeah, it it. You won’t let Miles get his happy ending. Because why should he be pardoned of his burden while the rest of us have suffered so much. While you’ve suffered so much.” The answer to your question was confirmed when Miguel stayed silent. “Just because you didn’t get the life you wanted Miguel, doesn’t mean you have the right to stop other people from getting theirs.”

You knew you overstepped the line when Miguel turned around and started walking towards you, fury burning in his crimson eyes. “Yeah, so what! What if that is what this is all about! You should know better than anyone how much this job takes away from you!” he screamed at you, backing you up into a wall. “Why should he get to be let off so easily, while people like you and me have to suffer so much? Don’t try to turn me into the villain here when I know you’re thinking the exact same thing, y/n.” He wasn’t entirely wrong. You had wondered it at some points. “I won’t let you turn this onto me Miguel, this is about you,” you fired back. “Oh no, you’re not getting off that easily. I know you’re thinking it. And you’re right. Why should Miles get let off so easily when you’ve lost so much.” He held your hands in his, trying to connect to you. “And you have mi vida. You’ve had so much taken from you and it’s unfair. Why should he only have lost one person when you’ve had three taken from you. Your brother, Peter, your moth-.”

He was cut off by your hand striking against his face in a harsh blow. “If you’re smart, and I know you are, you’ll keep those three out of them. I won’t let you drag their names through the dirt for something as stupid as this.” You both stood there for a while, both of your eyes looking towards the ground, hoping it would open up to swallow you both as an escape from this god awful conversation. You never wanted it to come to this. In all honesty, you cared for Miguel. You might’ve even loved him, if you were even capable of doing such a thing. You hoped he felt the same way about you, but in a job like this, he always had at least one wall up around you. It just wasn’t worth it anymore. You were too tired to keep trying for something that was most likely going to fall apart in the end. 

“You’re still going after him aren’t you?” you asked, finally breaking the silence. Miguel looked back up at you. “You can’t ask me not to. You know better than anyone why this is so important to me.” He moved his hand up to cup your cheek and kissed your forehead gently. You let it sit there for a minute out of habit before pushing it off your face. “And you must know why I can’t stay anymore then.” His shoulders dropped. “Whatever this thing between us is. It’s over. I can’t stay beside someone who can’t see what he’s doing is wrong.” Miguel’s dropped hand turned into a fist of anger. “Fine,” he spat in your face. “I don’t need someone like you in my way. You’re just a liability to this anyways.” He began to walk away from you back to his scanners. “Just don’t come crying back over to me when your little plan doesn’t work out, cause I won’t help you.” He used his webs to pull himself back up to the platform to keep looking for Miles. You stood there for a second, gathering yourself.

Five years. Out the door just like that. It bewildered you how easily a bond like you two had could be broken all because of one teenager. You began to make your way for the door before you said. “When this is all over…don’t try to find me.” He didn’t respond. Once the elevator doors opened, you rushed inside, desperate to get away from him. So many thoughts rushed through your head as the doors closed and you sunk down back to the lobby to leave. You didn’t have much of a plan. This could end up being a horrible idea. Your gut told you it was the right thing to do though. And that was enough for you. You walked out of the headquarters lobby with a new heart and a new mind, ready to take action for your new plan.

First though, you had to find Gwen.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: god that took longer than it should've. dw dw i'll do a part 2 if enough people ask for one. im not 100% sure how im gonna do a part 2 cause yk....idk how beyond the spiderverse is gonna go so tbh, we're just gonna make it go the way i want lmao. thanks for reading, ik this was kind of a long one lmao

NEXT CHAPTER

[zephrunsimperium]

Ford is a jerk to Fiddleford McGucket in Journal 3. Let's talk about that.

First I want to preface this post by saying that I adore Ford. He is a wonderful character who has influenced my life in countless ways for the better. All of the things he does in this list a) stem from his own insecurities that he's projecting b) are symptoms of Ford's narcissistic defense mechanisms c) or come from Bill's influence on him. However, just because there are reasons for his actions doesn't excuse them, especially considering just how many there are.

Here's the list of things he does, I'll analyze at the end of the post.

Let's get the petty things out of the way first.

The cubic's cube: I think it is just straight up an absolute jerk move to scramble this thing that's clearly a comfort to him and think it's funny.

Being in shape: It's obvious his comments here are from his own insecurity but on a deeper level it just speaks to how Ford sees him, I think.

Not telling Fidds about Bill: Obviously Bill was feeding him a lot of paranoia but it's the reasoning that he writes down that gets me. It's so condescending.

The Gremloblin & The Shapeshifter

Something I think that's worth taking note of is the way Ford illustrates both of these instances. He brushes off Fiddleford's concerns multiple times and then Fiddleford pays the price and Ford sees himself as some kind of hero and Fiddleford this helpless victim. It just leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

And then afterwards the way he handles not just Fiddleford's anxiety but the genuine trauma he went through. I know he's an old man, I know that's how he was treated, but Fiddleford is supposed to be his friend.

The Portal Test

Specifically their interaction at the diner and Ford's reaction to Fiddleford quitting the project. Fiddleford SELFLESSLY spends untold hours on this thesis for Ford because he cares about him and sees him burning out, even though Ford hasn't been great to him and Fidds has been going through his own hard things - not just with the gremloblin and the Shapeshifter, but things with his family as well. Ford does not match that selfless devotion at all. In fact, he sees it as an insult.

Analysis

The reason I've been thinking about this is because of Book of Bill and how that's influenced the shipping atmosphere. There's this weird notion that FiddAuthor is a less toxic ship but I think that's absurd. Besides their hug at Weirdmageddon, these journal entries are pretty much all we see of Ford's relationship with Fiddleford and it doesn't paint a pretty picture. Yes Ford is excited to have Fiddleford come to see him, yes Ford has that sweet conversation with him under the stars, but I don't think it's a stretch to say that all the above evidence outweighs hat. At the very least it shouldn't be ignored.

That doesn't mean Ford is a terrible person and we should hate him. I believe strongly in nuance and Ford is a character that requires nuance. I don't think he's an evil person, but I also don't think he should be babied as this perfect wittle guy who can do no wrong either. Both readings do a disservice to him.

Ford clearly had a hard childhood. He's isolated himself his whole life and he's been severely traumatized by Bill. But that doesn't mean that he deserves Fiddleford's forgiveness - Ford wasn't really that kind to him and his actions inadvertently led to the memory gun/Fidds' exposure to Bill. Ultimately it's Fiddleford's choice to make; I wouldn't fault him if he didn't want to ever see Ford again, but I think it's a testament to his goodness that he still cares for Ford as much as he does.

So what do I personally think? Man. I'm just sad we don't know more about Fiddleford McGucket than we do. He's so essential to Bill's defeat and to Ford's past and he's such a cool character but we know so little about him. I want to know what his childhood was like, I want to know how he ended up in Backupsmore, I want to know why he cares about Ford as much as he does, I want to know why things ended so poorly with EmmaMay. But we may never know those things for certain. So with the things we're left... Yeah, I think FiddAuthor is a compelling reading, one that I certainly enjoy. I just worry about the fandom babying Ford.

[mentally-gone002]

i waited for you

summary: just pure fluff  

a/n: sorry it’s been a few days gang i’m working on a big project atm so if i go mia that’s why

————————————————————————

the white queen that once had a place on the marbled chessboard twirled between each of her fingers beside her head. her elbow propped on the table was covered by one of spencer’s many sweaters bunched up and sliding down her forearm. the way the sunlight streamed in through the beige curtains cast a light that made her look angelic. her hair was messy and beautiful. the way her eyelashes almost kissed the highs of her cheeks was making spencer swoon the longer he stared.

“spencer, it’s your move.” she tilted her head to meet his eyes, smiling gently at him. 

he straightened his posture with the quick clear of his throat before his eyes focused back to the chess game. he tried to think of the next move with his fingers hovering above the board but all he could think about was her. he looked back up at her and dropped his hand that would have moved a piece of the game. 

she noticed and held eye contact with him. “something wrong, baby?” her voice was oh so gentle and her hand slid across the table to take his in the middle. she could hold his heart in her hands and it would be safer there than in his chest. 

spencer shook his head, and stared at their hands. the corner of his mouth twitched up. “i…” he hesitated, “i think i love you.” the confession came out airy and barely audible. 

her hand still fiddling with the queen chess piece dropped, the gentle thud making spencer worried that her skin would have discoloration. she stared at spencer’s face, his eyes, nose, lips. she went over every detail like it was the first time all while her heart hammered inside her chest. she thought spencer would hear it if she didn’t breathe. 

“you don’t have to say it-“ 

“i love you.” she blurted, stopping his words in his throat. her hand that was holding his squeezed in assurance. “i was waiting for you to say it, just so i knew it was real.” 

spencer felt his heart ache at that. did she think he didn’t love her? he pulled at her hand as a way of silently telling her to stand up and walk to him. 

she stood, slowly, and rounded the small table until she was standing knee to knee with him. spencer slid his empty hand onto her hip, pulling her down to sit on his lap, straddling his waist. 

“did you think i didn’t love you?” spencer whispered because they were nose to nose. she only shrugged, fingers toying with the collar of the sweater he was wearing. 

her eyes switched from his left and right multiple times before her lips parted and she said, “i never doubted you for a second, but i wanted to be sure.” she smiled. “i waited for you.” 

he smiled as his eyes lingered on her pink lips. he blinked slowly, taking the time between his eyes closing to shift his gaze up to meet hers. “i love you,” he whispered, liking how the three words sounded when they were meant for her and her only. “so much.”

“i love you too.” her hands tangled in his hair as her lips pressed against his own slowly and with the most gentle intentions. 

spencer melted, his arms winding around her waist and his hands pulling the fabric of her sweater into his hands. he reveled in the feeling of their lips between each others, slipping and dancing together slowly. he sighed, breathless, when there was minimal space between them for needed breaths. 

she smiled at him, tracing his jaw with her fingers. “say it again.” she whispered it gently. 

it made spencer smile and kiss her again, once before he told her, “i love you.” he’s not afraid of wearing it out.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

kiss kiss fall in love | s.r. x pregnant!fem reader

your hormones have peeked at your five month mark. your belly started to properly show now and your tastebuds were only slightly concerning. at least the morning sickness was gone, top two worst things about pregnancy, second having to give birth.

you lounged on the couch as you watched your daughter and husband playing on the floor, bits of their hair covered their faces in a curtain. spencer was already teaching her the ways of chess, she asked him many questions.

“how come the queen isn’t wearing a gold crown? she’s special.” holding a black chess piece in her small palm. you chuckled at the childish question.

“well she is wearing a crown, but if you want we can paint it gold. she is the most important piece of the game.” spencer agreed with annabeth, ruffling her locks. he stood from the ground, made a quick stop to kiss your cheek and went into the hallway to comeback with the craft supplies box. he pulled out the paint pens, “why don’t you decorate all of them how you want? it’ll be our special set.”

annabeth went quick to work on coloring over the pieces, some covered in swirled and dots while others had hearts or stars. she even drew a couple of happy expressions, then one sad one, “because he’s just a pawn.” you and spencer chuckled at her reasoning.

you rubbed your palm along your swollen stomach, old stretch marks reappearing at the bottom. your cotton shorts and simple tank feeling suffocating even with minimal fabric. “oh!” a tiny yelp from your lips, eyes widening and mouth pursing.

spencer snapped his head your way, “what’s wrong?” hurrying over to you. annabeth stopped her work to watch both of you with her big eyes. you let a smile ease onto your face, “the baby kicked.”

annabeth scrambled over, “can i feel?” tucking her hands into her chest for restraint. “of course, sweets. here,” holding a palm out for her tiny hand to sit and you guided it over to where the kick happened.

“try speaking to them. they like hearing our voices,” whispering to your daughter when the baby didn’t kick right away. little annabeth leaned in close, her lips grazing your ticklish skin, “i can’t wait to meet you. i’m gonna be the best big sister to you.”

it took a moment but then another kick appeared, “kick! i felt a kick!” she squealed, giving a little jump to her body. she looked to spencer, “daddy! daddy feel the baby!” reaching for his hand like you did earlier.

spencer cooed and gasped with annabeth when another kick appeared. “hi little one,” spencer whispered close, “i’m your daddy and your big sister is next to me. we can’t wait to meet you.” another strong kick followed.

“okay, how about we give mommy a rest. cause my organs aren’t feeling happy about being a soccer ball.” ruffling at your daughter hair. annabeth pressed a kiss goodbye to the growing baby and went back to her art project.

spencer joined you on the couch, arm thrown behind your head and resting on your shoulders while you leaned into him. “how are you feeling? need anything?” his rich voice caressing your ear and making your heart race.

you turned to him with a bright smile, “i do actually. i need a thousand kisses from you. haven’t been given my usually attention.” pouting exaggerated.

spencer looked surprised, “a thousand? man i must be really behind.” clicking his teeth. you nodded, “you have mister. better get started.” puckering up with your eyes closed.

spencer’s light giggles filled your soul and then his lips on yours caused a craving. “more,” a quiet demand.

a fast peck, “oh this is gonna take awhile.”

a lingering drawl, “we’re getting somewhere.”

another fast kiss, but you could tell spencer didn’t move far away. his breath tingled your wet lips, “i’m gonna have to call hotch to babysit if you want all those kisses.” a fifth kiss before his weight left the couch and his footsteps disappeared. you thought it was a little funny he was gonna call his boss on an off day so your child and his could have that playdate that’s been in the works.

“bethie,” calling for your daughter with outstretched arms. she worked her way beside you on the couch an wrapped her arms in a side hug, here genetic reid puppy eyes glaring upon you. “would you be okay to have a playdate with jack today?” smoothing a hand over the crown of her head.

“really?” eyes wide with excitement. you nodded, “you have to be a good girl for mr and mrs. hotchner. that’s daddy’s boss and our friend, say please and thank you. and also make sure you’re cleaning up after yourself.”

spencer walked back into the living room, “the hotchners are on their way. and they happily agreed to bethie joining them on their trip to the aquarium.” scooping annabeth up, both of them yelling “aquarium! aquarium!”

“i wanna see the stingrays!” annabeth declared to jack when him and hotch appeared at your door fifteen minutes later. the three of you watched the two chat while you packed her little backpack of supplies, you handed it off to hotch with a grateful smile.

“thank you for accepting on short notice. i just really want to be alone with my husband, im deprived of attention. i’m wilting like a flower.” sighing and aching as you talked to hotch.

the older man smiled and lightly chuckled, you’re one of the few to crack that stone facade spencer says. “jack’s been missing her anyway, he was trying for a sleepover as well tonight.” you raised your brows, “we’ll see how the afternoon goes.”

once you were completely alone, you dragged spencer behind you into your shared bedroom. “more kisses please,” sitting at the foot of the bed.

spencer moved to stand in the space between your spread legs, his hands cupping at your cheeks like you were fine china. your wandering fingers slid under his plain t-shirt, sitting in his waistband and rubbing against his slim stomach. “don’t keep me waiting, pretty boy. i will start getting angry.”

spencer bent in and let his plush lips mesh with yours, his nose tickling at your cheek when he changed angles to broaden the intimate act. a hum sounded from your throat as you opened your mouth wider and let your tongue wonder, desperately needing a french kiss. a moan echoed in the room as spencer moved from your lips to your jaw, further down onto your neck.

“this- this is nice,” letting a hand sink into the ends of his hair. your nails scratching at his scalp as your eyes fluttered and pulse spiked.

“i love you so much,” lips causing a shiver to erupt. you sighed, “i- i love you too. so lucky for- for marrying you.” your hands starting to mess with spencer’s belt and zipper.

“gonna show you how loved you are.”

[baddiewiththebook]

ONE OF THE BOYS [PART 3]

-> While you pine hopelessly over your best friend, Eddie Munson. You hear the sentiment 'one of the boys' one too many times and you've decided to change that. All in the name of the one boy who won't even look at you, or so you think.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language and suggestive themes [no smut]

-> a/n Oh, my god. When I tell y’all that everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong. I stayed up all night writing and editing just to get it out today, so you don’t have to wait another week when I’m off from work again. Yesterday, I was going to surprise y’all with a back to back upload, but when my laptop died and all of my content got deleted, I needed a pause. Anyway, I hope you enjoy Part 3 of a series I didn’t know would become a series.

[Part 2] Part 3

-> <-

You decide to wake up at five because your eyes wouldn’t stay shut any longer. Ripping the blankets off your body, the cool air nips at your skin. You shove your toes into your slippers. Tripping over your tennis shoes, you rethink how close you are to your desk. Feeling around for the corner, you find the desk and you begin to aim yourself the other way. You yelp when your waist collides into the doorknob and you silently curse to yourself while trying desperately not to wake your family. Shuffling through the dark, you take mini steps to your bathroom.

Closing the door behind you, you flick on bathroom light. Squinting, your eyes adjust and the shock of the bright room dulls. You use the toilet first, before your bladder combusts. While washing your hands, you meet your own face in the mirror.

Mornings weren’t your best look. Your hair mats to one side because you’re a side sleeper. Sometimes when your sick you’ll lay on your back to keep your stomach from getting nauseous. Instead of drying your hands on a towel, you toss them back into your hair to mold and shape what’s on your head. Massaging your scalp, you forget your worries for a moment. You wash your hands of the hair that sticks to your hands, and then you dry them off.

You bounce back from the shower when you twist the hot water handle. Water splashes in your face anyway. Steam breathes into your bathroom and you almost feel suffocated by the hot air. That’s what wakes you up in the morning. You strip, then step inside allowing the beads of hot water to bake your skin. The soap you use is plain and boring. It moisturizes the layers of your skin without leaving a scent behind. You watch the bubbles drain below you.

Leaving the shower is harder to you then getting back in. Your day will begin as soon as you step out. Going to school feels like a chore. Your classes all have projects due by the end of the week or by the end of the month. Then there’s the obvious boy you are trying to avoid. Before you can imagine any lewd situations between yourself and him (and trust that you have plenty), you switch off the water to your shower.

You don’t like washing your face in hot water, so you wait until your dry and you have a towel wrapped around your body. The icy water pricks at your pores. You dry, and you apply a thick layer of moisturizer to your skin.

Finding yourself vulnerable in a towel, and thrown into darkness once again because you have forgotten your clothes in your bedroom, you shimmy across the hallway once again.

When you choose a lotion, you act as though you won’t pick the same option you have been for as long as you can remember. The label reads ‘Fruity.’ Simple enough. Throwing on an extra spritz of perfume to compliment the lotion. You like to spray perfume while you’re bare to ensure the smell sticks to you, rather than your clothes.

Wrapping yourself in your robe, you want to take a peak at the sky. Rain clouds form above. Gray all day. You happen to, also, see that Eddie’s trailer is dark. Wayne Munson’s truck is on, and he’s in the driver’s seat waiting for the engine to warm. He goes to work early, and he stays late. That’s how you got to spend so many days and nights at Eddie’s growing up.

You’d tell your mom that you were spending the night with your friend Robin, and she would cover for you in a heartbeat. She must have known what was going on before you did. Did that even count - if you didn’t know?

You shy away from the window.

Going through your closet, you find an acceptable pair of denim that’s right on your hips and loose at your ankles. The striped sweater you call your favorite will scratch at you skin all day, so you put on a plain shirt on underneath.

If the you from a few months ago, saw you sitting at your desk whipping out all of the tools and the sponges that it took to apply makeup to your skin, you’d shrivel in a corner and cry. You got used to the feeling of the brushes against your skin. The way your face feels with a bit of foundation. And the sticky feeling of mascara pressing on your eyes.

As you finish powdering your nose, your stomach growls. Your hungry.

The sun is beginning to wake, and you’re able to move through the home a bit smoother. You find yourself in the kitchen pawing through the refrigerator. No one has gone grocery shopping in a few weeks, so your options are limited.

You take the box of Honey Comb cereal off the top of the fridge. A bowl off the drying rack will do, and there’s even a spoon next to it. You pluck out your mom’s cigarettes that she “hides” inside the box. She doesn’t count them when she smokes, so you know that you can sneak one into your pocket for later.

After pouring yourself a bowl of cereal, and stealing your mom’s cigarettes, you grab the milk from the fridge. It’s heavy. When you open the milk the rancid sour odor spoils your appetite.

“Jesus!” You curse.

The expiration reads about a week ago. Gross.

You toss the milk.

Even though you’re completely grossed out, you shovel a few bites of dry cereal down your throat. Dipping your head under the sink for a drink of water, you slurp down the crumbs sticking to the sides of your mouth.

By the time you’ve brushed your teeth, your watch reads seven fifteen in the morning. If you head to school now, you’ll be there by seven thirty.

That’s exactly what you do.

The drive is quiet. Most of the town hasn’t woken yet for their day. Shops still have signs in their window that read ‘Closed.’

You’re allowed into the cafeteria with the other early birds once you get to school. Finding a group of girls you’re in home room with, they welcome you for a study session.

“You look so pretty,” Michelle gushes over your makeup.

You smile. “You too. I love your shirt.”

“I got it on sale,” she tells you the name of the store. “We should all go shopping on Saturday.”

“Girls day out!” Lisa snaps her fingers. “Count! Me! In!”

The three of you small chat for a bit, before you dive into your awaiting assignments. They’re there to help you. You reciprocate the action when they want advise.

The school bell rings.

You pack up, and you wave goodbye for now. But, you’ll see them again in just a few moments when you get to class.

Heading to your locker for the first time in months, you have to try the code twice. The third time’s the charm. You take the specimen in your locker between your index and your thumb. Finding the nearest trash can, you throw the moldy sandwich away. At least the smell hadn’t penetrated through the bag yet.

You’re just zipping up your backpack after ridding yourself of about a hundred pounds of unnecessary textbook weight when someone shouts at the end of the hall.

Petty squabbles between students, you’re usually able to ignore. However, as all the noise is headed in your direction, you hear your name in between cursed and yells. A catastrophic tornado blows your way. Your feet are firm to the ground in terror.

Roxie’s purple, and about to blow a blood vessel judging by the vein nearly popping out of her neck. Hot on her trail is petite Indie, who’s begging for Roxie to just listen to her.

“Hey, you!” Roxie jabs her finger in your face.

Indie tumbled over her own feet, “Roxie!”

You check over your shoulder in hopes that someone might be there. No one is there except a few onlookers she’s drawn in her tirade. Now, you’re thinking. Eddie couldn’t have spilt the beans this quickly. Could he?

“Oh, I’m coming for you, bitch,” she snarls.

You’re toast.

Roxie is larger than you in all retrospects, but she’s especially big in muscle. If she’s about to pummel you, then you’ll be knocked over and split in two like a pin and she’s the ball going a hundred miles an hour.

“Can’t we talk this out?” Indie asks through gasps of air.

You stare between them. Indie isn’t after you by the worried expression she holds. Still unsure exactly what Roxie’s prattling on about, you decide to wait before you interject.

“Is there something going on between you and Eddie?” Roxie demands.

See, you knew their relationship wasn’t casual! Still, you did nothing wrong. Yesterday, you didn’t even express to Eddie that you liked him in the first place. You wanted to drop the conversation, and he kept going. This is his fault. Why isn’t he about to get a fist to the face? Who’s to say he hasn’t already? Yikes.

Roxie sucks her tongue to her teeth.

“Uh-,” you’re still loading in the information, and you hesitate to answer right away. “N- no?”

“Is that a question?” Her hot breath hits your nose.

You bring your hands down to your sides because you can’t let her see you trembling like a leaf. If she smells fear, she’ll know she’s won. Her prey is hers for the taking.

You’re tired of this. “Eddie and I have nothing going on. We’re just- just friends.”

You have a hard time saying that, but not for the reasons that Roxie has in mind. You’re not even sure if Eddie wants to be your friend anymore.

“Okay,” she sticks her tongue into the flesh of her jaw, and then says. “How come last night he moaned your name instead of mine?”

Blood rushes to your ears. Your face is on fire, and you’re sure everyone can see so.

Onlookers jeer and whisper amongst themselves. Rumors are already beginning from mouth to mouth; and, hitting ear to ear.

You would also like to understand what she meant by “moaning your name.” Spare the details. Obviously, you knew what happened last night. You wipe the winner’s smirk off your face, before Roxie even notices.

“I don’t know,” you fold your arms across your chest. “Shouldn’t you ask him?”

Roxie squares her shoulders. She clenched her fists until her knuckles are white. Cursing a few more angry words your way, she’s a bull ready to charge. You might as well be wearing all red.

“What’s going on here?!”

Miss Brown sticks her nose into the hallway and notices the crowd of people. Before anyone can do anything rash, she pushes her way into the center of the chaos. With an ostentatious sort of sigh that suggests she’s better than all of you, she starts breaking up the fight.

“Off to class,” Miss Brown shoo’s them.

“Let’s go, Roxie,” Indie grits her teeth.

Roxie eyes you one more time. “Fine. I’ll be seeing you later.”

You gulp.

It’s time to play a new game around school: Hide from Roxie! Winners get the very rewarding prize of not getting their face beat in.

You dart from class to class all morning. A huge target sticks to your back with Roxie aiming for a bullseye. Meanwhile, Eddie is still no where to be found. He’s probably hiding under his sheets at home, full of shame when he mistook your name for hers.

That’s just fine by you. You still didn’t want to see him either. Or, maybe you did. First, to clear the air about you liking him. A little flimsy crush isn’t going to break a friendship, right? You’ll get over it in time. Secondly, you’re sure that him naming you is a big misunderstanding. He just got distracted or something.

After lunch was over, you planned to sneak through Mr Campbell’s empty classroom. He doesn’t have afternoon classes, and you can easily shoot through since there is a door on either side of the hallway.

“Over there!”

Roxie has the cheerleaders involved now. No doubt they want a piece of judge, jury and conviction too.

Colliding into something solid, you topple over onto the tile. You’re swept away in thought and you forget to watch where your going. Mr. Campbell has that skeleton on wheels that he’ll leave just about anywhere. But, you haven’t knocked over that stupid skeleton.

It’s Eddie.

“Oh, God,” you rub your backside.

Eddie gasps, “What are you doing?”

“What am I-,” you snap. “What the hell are you doing? Your girlfriend almost tackled me like linebacker!”

Eddie shushes you. “Do you want her to hear? She’s not my girlfriend. I told you it’s casual.”

“Casual?” You want to yell, but you also don’t want her to hear. The last thing you need is for Roxie to see you in the same room as Eddie. “Whatever you have is not casual.”

“I messed up, okay?” He rubs his temple. “Jesus!”

Your chin lifts at the familiar brrring of the school bell. Now, you’re skipping class. You’ll get another hour of detention no matter if you stay here or go to class.

“You’re hiding from her too?” You conclude.

Detention doesn’t matter to Eddie. He just wants to ensure you’re okay. Judging by the way you’re creeping through empty classrooms, you’re doing just about as good as he is.

"I'm not hiding," he jumps when someone's locker slams. "Okay, so maybe I am hiding."

"This is so humiliating," you cry.

Eddie apologizes, “I’m sorry-,”

“You’re sorry?”

You’re grateful that the light in the room is limited. Otherwise, you don’t know if you could have a conversation with him right now. Eddie has these eyes that you could simply drown in.

“It was an accident,” he claims. “You’re the one who said-,”

“I didn’t say anything,” you correct him. “You’re the one with the wild imagination.”

“Wild imagination?!”

“Maybe I do like Jeff, hm? Or- or maybe I’ve come to realize that Gareth is a great guy. Did you think of that?” You stand before him, while he scrunches down into a chair. “Eddie Munson you’re selfish - no, you’re self centered. All about Eddie- it’s Eddie’s world and we’re all just there like puppets on strings.”

“You done?”

“No!” You snap. “Yes.”

“How could you call me self-centered when you’ve been prancing around this place like the rest of the guys don’t exist? Everyone wants to know where you are all the time. Why would I know? Oh, because you’re supposed to be my best friend,” Eddie rubs his hands across his face. “God, when did things get so complicated?”

"When you started calling me one of the guys in middle school, and I just wanted whatever you wanted,” you admit out loud. “Why do you think I changed when Gareth mentioned Roxie? I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Eddie’s unreadable. Although dark, you can see his thoughts bubble and burst.

“It doesn’t matter,” you continue. “You don’t like me like that.”

“Who’s to say that?” Eddie’s voice comes out barely audible.

You shake your head. “Don’t pity me.”

Eddie kicks the stool from under him, “I’m not.”

“Eddie,” you pick at your nails. “What we have is a great friendship. I’m lucky that you’re in my life. I don’t want to risk messing that up. Are- are you okay with that? Are we okay?”

Eddie doesn’t want to leave the air so broken. While the words are spelled out in front of him, he can’t find a way to bring them out.

“We’re okay,” he says.

-> <-

Flicking a green bean on his plate with a fork, Eddie can’t be bothered to bring the food to his lips. Nothing passes his mouth. He watches the ice crystals on his steak defrost because he doesn’t want Uncle Wayne to worry that he’s messed up dinner, since this is the first one they’ve shared in a while. Wayne told his boss that he wanted to be home tonight for Eddie, and here he is.

“You’re not eating?” His uncle points out because Wayne has eaten half of his meal, and he worries that Eddie is appearing a bit gray and slender.

Eddie replies. “I ate a lot at school.”

“In the years that you’ve been under my roof, you haven’t stopped eating,” Wayne lowers his head to meet his nephew’s eye. “Try again.”

Eddie pushes the microwaved dinner aside. A low hum comes from the television, and he’s not even sure what’s on. Someone’s bobbing around like a baboon trying to make a woman smile. Yet another attempt from Wayne to make Eddie relive his childhood, he guesses.

“That girl your seeing isn’t pregnant is she?” Wayne presses when Eddie won’t talk. “Eddie Munson, I’ve told you to use a condom-,”

“No,” he cocks his head to rethink. “No, she’s not.”

Even if Roxie was pregnant, she’d get an abortion and make Eddie pay for it. Actually, he still owes her for the condoms.

Eddie wants to be done with women for a while. But, there is still this pinching on his ears that reminds him you’re still there. He’s actually wearing a pair of your studs that you forgot at his house one day. Since Eddie is prone to losing just about everything, he’s decided to wear them so they don’t get lost. No one even notices except for him. They hide behind his hair.

“Look,” Eddie wets his lips. “If I tell you, then you have to promise me you won’t do that weird ‘oooh’ thing you do. Got it?”

Wayne claps his hands together. Say no more. He’s solved the case! That little lady across the park has had her eye on him since the day Eddie moved in. Wayne really likes her. ‘Thinks she’s a great ball of sunshine that can keep Eddie under control. He’s been just waiting for Eddie to wake up and smell the coffee!

“Really?” Wayne excites.

Eddie exhales. “Don’t-,”

“Wait,” he lectures. “You’re not seeing both of them are you? Eddie Munson that is wrong, and I won’t tolerate that behavior. I taught you better.”

“No-,”

“Seriously, boy. Wear a condom. It’s not just for you, but her too you know?”

“Wayne-,”

“You can’t be spreading your butter on everyone’s toast.”

“Wayne!”

“I knew it,” he blabs on. “Ever since I caught you two brushing each other’s teeth. Oh, I saw this coming - I did!”

That incident happened once, and Wayne would never let Eddie live that down.

You smoke one joint.

After sitting in his room complaining of boredom, you tell Eddie you had never brushed someone else’s teeth before. He hadn’t either. You wanted to try. But, Eddie would only let you if the offer went both ways. Wayne burst in when you were scrubbing his tongue. You splattered toothpaste all over the mirror, while Eddie tried to keep you from squirming so he could scrub your teeth.

“You need to learn how to knock,” Eddie tries sailing with the conversation his old man is going on about.

Wayne challenges. “You know there’s no closed doors when you have girls over, Eddie.”

“Oh, my God.”

Reliving the memory, Eddie wants to make more with you. Cooking. You’ll cook. He’ll burn food. You’ll tell him he’s doing a wonderful job anyway because you’re too sweet to tell him to get out before he burns the house down. Eddie visions that you’ll teach him a better way to organize his clothes. You’ve already tried to show him how to fold, but Eddie only lasted a week doing your method before going back to shoving the clothes in whatever drawer is the least bit full. He’ll now admit that he only let you teach him because he wanted you close. He wants you close. Always.

It’s not just domestic stuff he sees. He wants to take you on a date. Many dates. He wants to take you out of Hawkins, even if it’s for just a day. He misses your laugh. Seeing you cry today broke him. Knowing that you’ve changed everything for him, and he didn’t notice. Because at the core of all the makeup and the hair, he guesses, that he just didn’t care. He loves all the extra, don’t get him wrong, but all he can see is you.

“What are you going to do, boy?” Wayne wonders.

Eddie replies in a question, “What if everything goes wrong? I- I can’t lose her, Wayne.”

“Son-,”

“What if I just turn out like him? Like my father?”

Eddie’s lip quivers, as he bites back the tears he’s been holding onto for years. Not a day goes by does he not miss his father, even if the years weren’t kind to him. His father is locked away somewhere in State, but he hasn’t visited. They’ll take one look at Eddie and they’ll try to lock him away too.

“That’s not you, Eddie,” Wayne opens his arms. “Come here.”

Eddie drops his head onto his uncle’s shoulder. Tears slide down his cheek and across his chin.

“Deep breaths,” he rubs his hand across Eddie’s back.

He doesn’t cry for long, and Wayne wipes his tears when he’s calmer. This isn’t a usual interaction between them, but neither of them care. Wayne takes away a stray eyelash from Eddie’s cheek.

“You like this girl?” Wayne says as a fact more than a question.

Eddie nods.

“You have to try,” he insists.

“Yeah, okay,” his nephew agrees.

Wayne and Eddie end their conversation there. Eddie eventually eats (after microwaving the food because he could have broken teeth on that steak), and the show that his uncle makes him watch isn’t half bad. Their night comes to a close when his uncle snores.

Mouth agape, head tipped over and his feet propped up, Wayne would be out for the night.

Eddie tucks his uncle’s toes beneath the blanket Wayne was hugging. Tip toeing his way into the kitchen, he puts both forks into the sink along with their drinking glasses. The TV dinners find home in the trash can. While Eddie left the television on to lull his uncle in his sleep, Eddie flicks off the living room and the kitchen lights. He sneaks off to his bedroom, the only bedroom in the trailer. Wayne gave up the space for Eddie to grow into.

Eddie finds that sleep won’t do.

You project onto his ceiling like a film about his life. There you are. Every new milestone. Eddie didn’t think about just how many times you were there for him. His birthdays come to mind, even the ones he didn’t want to be there for because he doesn’t always feel like he deserves to be celebrated. You’d sneak off to get him a beer when his uncle was distracted with all the other kids invited.

When you kept him from going outside, while Wayne drove up in his brand new van that was a gift for Eddie when he got his license. Wayne took on extra hours just for him. That might just have been the night his heart beat a little faster for you. Watching you perform songs in your living room in that ridiculous feather boa and sunglasses, Eddie’s drawn to laugh at the memory of you out of tune and off key. You didn’t care. The hair brush you swore was a microphone was just not working that night. You’re much better performer in the shower, you’d said.

Eddie sits up in bed, and he can see that your bedroom light is still on. Your curtains are drawn, but your silhouette dances about. Bouncing up and down will sometimes get rid of your last bit of energy, Eddie’s witnessed your routine first hand. Your wild, and Eddie finds this fascinating.

When your silhouette disappears, but the light remains, Eddie concludes that you’re reading a chapter book. You told Eddie to try reading sometime because that’s what helped you get to sleep. He bought his first book that very same day.

The Lord of the Rings was your suggestion. Not that he hadn’t found it first, but he wasn’t about to point it out. Eddie sees the book hidden under a lighter he used last night.

Smoking seemed obvious to him. He couldn’t sleep, so he would light up. With Wayne home, though, Eddie didn’t want the smell getting to him. He’s pretty sure Wayne knows he smokes by now, and he doesn’t care. Eddie isn’t a reckless smoker by any means, and he keeps to himself. If Wayne found out he was selling, that would be a different story.

Never the less, Eddie reads page after page of the same book he’s been fascinated by for weeks. He immerses himself into the books wishing he could be the hero, rather than the one who runs in the face of danger.

Eddie hears your front door open and close. This interests him and tips his head up. Tossing the book aside like he’s suddenly been hypnotized, he looks through his window.

You’re on the porch in thin pajamas and a robe. A lit cigarette slots between your fingers. You only smoke when you’re stressed. Pacing back and forth, Eddie understands that you’re talking to yourself. He just can’t make out the words.

This is creepy. Eddie shuts his window, and sinks back in bed. Leaving you alone - leaving you alone.

The words in his book blur into blobs of unrecognizable text. All he can see right now is you on that porch. You’re alone - and you’re probably cold. He has a blanket that he could offer. Maybe he could- no, he is leaving you alone.

Eddie wants to untangle the knot he has in his belly. He even tries to convince himself that he’s still hungry. But, he knows he won’t eat. You’re there. Even if you were caked in mud, you’d still be the most beautiful girl in the world to him. Actually, he has seen you caked in mud before. You were definitely hot then too.

Oh, God. What was he doing?

Pulling open his closet now, Eddie finds a jacket to slip on over his pajamas. He takes an extra blanket with him. It’s a bit torn up, but the blanket is clean. Wayne washed the blanket a couple of days ago, along with Eddie’s sheets which he claimed he could smell from across town. Eddie was not that dirty. It was the weed - but, er - don’t ask about the stains. He doesn’t know what they are or where they came from. Seriously, don’t ask.

Wayne is still snoring in the living room. He mutters in his sleep when Eddie opens the front door, and he doesn’t see Wayne stir once the door shuts.

His uncle stretches, and wakes up enough to take a leak in his bathroom. By the time he returns to the living room, he catches a glimpse from the window in the living room. His boy is with you on your porch making you smile and making you blush.

Wayne doesn’t need to spy. He’s seen this movie before when his brother made moves on his girl. It’d be a few more years until Eddie is born, but the picture is already there.

“Atta boy,” Wayne cheers to himself.

Eddie’s sitting with you, and sharing a cigarette. You’re not sleeping either. Dried black makeup you haven’t smudged off is stuck under your eyes. He wants to swipe it away, but he doesn’t know if he should.

“Is your mom in tonight?” Eddie asks.

You shake your head. “No, but my dad is such a deep sleeper. He’s nothing to worry about.”

Eddie worries about your dad catching him there with his only daughter, then your mom who likes to call you both “crazy kids.” Your dad is stern. Overprotective. He’s jokes about having a gun locked away somewhere, but Eddie still has no idea if he is joking. You won’t tell him because truthfully you don’t know.

“What’s got you up?” Eddie brings the blanket closer to you because he sees your shoulders dance.

You shake your head blowing out smoke to the left where Eddie isn’t.

Eddie takes a drag from the cigarette after he says, “I don’t think I’ve been all that honest with you.”

He reads your face.

“Not like that,” he can’t look at you, so he counts the floorboards of your porch. “I said we’re okay, but I don’t think we are.”

Your heart skips in your chest. “What do you mean?”

While Eddie might not be able to look at you, your eyes are all on him. In the moonlight, he’s like this shiny thing. You can’t put your thoughts into words, but he’s carved by the shine of the moon. He might hide his face with his hair, but when he hunches over you relax a bit.

You haven’t been able to put yourself in bed. Knowing that Eddie was there had wrecked your mind. You’re itching to be near him.

The whole day you thought about nothing, but him. How unsatisfied you are with your earlier conversation. You thought being the one to take charge in the conversation, and assert yourself, might make the blow easier. Truthfully, it hurt even worse.

You spent the evening sobbing in your room like a baby. Friends. You signed your name at the bottom of that contract. But, then, you thought about the day you’ll find a nice boy that will like you back. You’ll get married. You’ll get a house. Everything will be okay. But, as you thought about your life, your mind wondered about Eddie. What happens when he finds a girl? He’ll have a wife and he’ll have a house too.

You’ll be at that wedding. Sitting in a chair that’s not too close to the front, but also not all the way in the back. The band sits in front of you. They might not be able to pronounce the brand name, but their check cashes on their suits. All of your friends are his friends.

Eddie’s fiancé is faceless, but her gown is breathtaking. They’ll say ‘I do.’

You’ll cry along with them, but the tears you shed are ones you let out at a funeral. Are you just supposed to sit there and pretend like you don’t want to throw up?

Because that’s not you standing at the alter.

That’s some chick he’s met on the road while he tours with the band. Sure she’s great. But, the sight sickens you. Maybe that means your selfish, but you can’t do this. You can’t see Eddie with another woman. You refuse to see it because Eddie’s always been with you.

“I’m sorry?” You’ve spaced out while Eddie is speaking.

He begins to say, “please don’t make me repeat myself.”

Throwing the cigarette to the ground, you stamp out the flame. You wrap your hands around his neck, and you pull him forward. Eddie's lips meet yours in an awaited embrace. Longing and passionate. His hands burrow into your hair pulling you ever closer. The tender touch of his fingers fall to your waist to tell you he's not going anywhere.

You can't be sure which one of you pull away first. But, when your eyes open you breathe a sigh of relief. Eddie is still there, and he's about as hot in the face as you feel. You let out a breathy laugh, and he hides his grin behind his hair.

It doesn't take long for him to ask,

"Can I take you out sometime?"

And, of course, you say. "Yes!"

-> <-

tags: @hellfirenacht @queercodedcharacter @ogoc-19 @littlewinchester1 @stardustingold @ghost4love @spenciesprincess @animechick555 @foggyfooz @aactuaaltraash @loves0phelia @sofaritsalrightt @thisisktrying @somethingvicked @sebastiansstanswhore

[ashwhowrites]

No cash, no problem

Summary- Y/N can't afford to pay Eddie for the night, but he has a different payment in mind

⚠️smut- oral sex and fingering ( age gap but it's all legal )

Single milf!reader x babysitter!Eddie

~~~

Eddie struggled to find a job, he did his dealing but he also wanted a job so Wayne could know where the money came from. But based on his appearance and reputation in the town, not many gave him the opportunity.

Then he met a stressed-out mom in a store. Way in over her head and struggling to keep her three kids in check. He helped that day and now months later, he found himself their babysitter.

Eddie adored Y/N and her kids. He met her ex, he was a total dick and a shitty dad. The kids loved him, he got along the best with the two boys. They talked about movies and video games. He got along with everyone and he had a good relationship with Y/N.

Eddie had all the kids down for bed by the time Y/N arrived. He sat on the couch as he watched the TV low. He watched as she bent over to take off her heels. She sighed deeply and ran her hand through her hair.

"Stressful night?" Eddie asked, his voice causing her to jump and turn around. A relieved smile as she noticed it was Eddie. He muted the TV as she walked over. He eyed her dress, the way her body looked amazing. Her curves are more at notice with the tightness of the material. Her perfume smelled amazing and she looked gorgeous.

"You have no idea," she groaned, she began to dig around in her purse. Eddie assumed for cash for the night.

"Tried a date, right? Complete asshole, who didn't even pay for dinner. Then doesn't drive me home so I had to take a cab," her voice got more stressed as she dug around in her purse faster. "Which now I realize I gave the last amount of my cash to the driver and now can't pay my fucking babysitter." She groaned, throwing her purse on the floor.

Eddie held back a small laugh at her mini meltdown. "It's alright, Y/N. Don't worry about it." He said.

"No! You do so much for us and deserve to be paid. I mean you got Ben an A on his project, and Kasey won't shut up about you. I think she's in love. And Jack adores you. I mean you do more than their father." She ranter, steering away from the topic. "Can I double it next time? Or I can write a check?" She struggled to find a solution and she was so frantic about it. Eddie couldn't help but watch her fall apart.

"Those are all fine. Or honestly, it can be on me. It sounds like a shitty night." Eddie offered, he stood up, his body up close next to hers. He felt his fingers inching towards her before his brain knew.

"I need a bath then I'll be fine. But I'm still paying you some way." She smiled gently at him as she touched his arm. A short way to show her affection and a promise. She went to move away but Eddie moved faster. His hand grabbed her arm, and he brought her hand up to his mouth. He watched as she froze and sucked in the air. Her mouth slightly opened.

"I think I know a way you can pay me. A slightly different method." He whispered, then he took her ring finger, one that used to have a band around, and slowly put it in his mouth. He was crossing a huge boundary and he prepared for the slap across his face. But instead, she moaned and zoned her eyes in on his mouth as he sucked her finger.

"What's that?" She whispered, her voice cracked and she coughed to try to fix it. Her eyes never left his mouth as he let her finger go with a pop.

"Let me eat," he started, yanking her arm to bring her body smack against his. She stumbled into him but he kept them in balance, "that pretty pussy, momma." He whispered against her lips.

She wasn't sure if she got drunk off her glass of wine or if Eddie was truly hitting on her. He was an attractive boy, but he was just in his twenties and she was ten years older than him. It was way too wrong to feel this turned on.

"The kids." She mumbled, turning her head to look up the stairs. Eddie grabbed her chin and brought her face against his again. His lips were right on top of hers.

"Then you'll have to be quiet then, huh?" He smirked, raising his eyebrows as he challenged her.

"But..." She trailed off. She tried to wrap her brain for an argument but she felt like her brain shut off.

"You say stop, and I'll stop. Let me make you feel good, take away your stress. Feast on you like you've never felt. Not by that loser ex-husband and not that loser from tonight." His dirty words made her submit. A little pleasure wouldn't kill her and he was of age. And based on the hardness she felt against her thigh, it was something he wanted.

She nodded and allowed his lips to smash on hers. She gasped as he slammed her against the wall and his hands immediately slipped under her dress. She moved her tongue into his mouth and her hands went in his hair. She was rough and tugged. Harder each time she heard the growling sound he made.

She moaned against his tongue as his fingers moved her underwear aside, and his fingers fucked into her. Her head fell back and his mouth latched on her neck. She cradled his head as she began to ride his fingers. She bit down on her bottom lip to keep quiet, not trying to scar her children for life.

She gripped his hair harder when his thumb rubbed her clit and his teeth sunk into her flesh.

She got her breath back when he pulled away, but her break didn't last long. He dropped to his knees and pulled her leg over his shoulder. He growled at the sight of her wet pussy, pulsing and asking for more. He didn't need the extra wetness, but he still spit right on her clit. A way to mark her as his.

She threw her hand over her mouth the second his tongue was on her clit. He knew just how to suck and flick. He made her knees shake. His fingers were back inside of her as he sucked on her clit.

Eddie loved the taste of her on his tongue. She was sweet and way better than he imagined. He couldn't deny the amount of times he thought of doing this. And the many nights he craved to taste her just like this.

He didn't care to be clean, he was messy and sloppy. His tongue moved between her folds to taste every inch, removing his fingers just to circle his tongue inside. Her body arched off the wall and he could feel her digging at his roots.

Eddie moved his tongue back up to her clit, and his fingers entered her again. He went fast and slipped in three fingers, and then slipped in a fourth one. He felt her snapping before she even made a sound. Four fingers deep as he fucked her and spelled his name with his tongue on her clit, sucking harshly at the very end as she came.

Her body slumped against the wall but he kept his mouth on her, shoving her against the wall and he held her up as he finished tasting her. She was sensitive and shaking but he made sure to lick up every single drop.

She tried to catch her breath when he gently placed her leg back on the ground, he moved her underwear back in place and pushed the underwear against her sensitive clit. She bit back the whine, the material soaked up her wetness. He pushed her dress back down and cleaned off his mouth.

He smirked as he took in her fucked off state. "no cash, no big deal."

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger

[nastyaromatherapy]

can we get dark ethan where he takes reader’s virginity through non con? sorry if this request is too dark only if you’re comfortable with it 💜

Unwanted encounter (18+)

Ethan your econ partner, loves the idea of taking your virginity.

pairing - ghostface!ethan landry x cheerleader!fem!reader

one shot length, 2.2k+ word fic

warnings: non con, first time, minimal knife play, hair pulling, creampie, reader is smart w an airhead personality, pervy ethan

read more cut isn't working so sorry for that 🌚

Your professor partnered up you and Ethan for an Econ project. Ethan at first, was not at all thrilled. You were popular, didn't care much about grades, and had the douchiest boyfriend.

He on the other hand, actually wanted that A, and didn't have many friends outside of the core four. He wasn't that close with them either. You wanted that A too, he just wasn't aware of that. He already created a version of you that was untrue in his mind.

But when the day finally came, and he was over at your house, he realized how wrong he was about you. He realized that you were actually really smart, nice, and funny. You actually had a personality.

He asked to see all of the research you've conducted, and you showed him pages of notes. "You're smarter than you look y/n," he teased. You rolled your eyes at him. "What's that supposed to mean?" You asked, taking offense. "I mean you look like the average cheerleader that's fucked more then half of the football team."

You gawk at him and his incel driven ignorance. "I haven't even fucked my boyfriend on that team," you corrected, annoyed. "I'm a fucking virgin- you know nothing about me." He went silent not knowing what to say, but the thought of you never being taken like that before made him throb in his jeans.

"Fuck I'm sorry, it was just a joke." He apologized, voice getting quieter the more he spoke. "Joke," you repeated, clicking your tongue. "Just get the fuck out of my house, my boyfriend 'll be back soon. He's not going to be too happy with you here. He doesn't like dogs on the bed," you snark, pointing to the door.

He looks at the ground and apologizes under his breath again before leaving the room.

Your boyfriend didn't come home. He texted you, "Gonna be out a little later than usual, emergency with the guys." You believed him, Ethan knew he was out fucking some girl. Guys like him can't live with abstinence.

Ethan sat at home, jerking off to videos of you on the sidelines in football highlights. He groaned whenever your skirt lifted up when you jumped, exposing some of your dark navy panties.

He had to know how it felt to be inside you. How tight you would be, never been stretched before. He imagined your moans, begging to be slow your first time, loving the way he impaled your cunt.

He pumped himself faster, getting closer to the edge, imagining his hands were your soft, delicate ones. Then his mind wandered to other places, how would your lips feel, wrapped around his tip? He came just at the thought, shooting ropes onto his grey sweats.

He just had to feel you, he had too. So, he put on his black robe and mask, the one he planned to use to execute Sam, Tara, and the rest of their friend group with. But today, he had other plans.

He creeped to your rich boyfriend's house, seeing you in bed reading a book in the window. You were listening to god knows what with your airpods, bopping your head to the music while highlighting pages of the book. He gave your phone a ring, and he watched you doubled tap the earbud to answer. "Hello?" You asked with that sweet voice of yours he relished in. "Hello y/n," he asked using the voice changer. "Hi!" You respond bubbly and obliviously.

"Watcha listening to?" He asked huskily. "Ariana Grande," you giggled out. "Who's this?" You ask the mystery caller. "Oh only your biggest fan," he replied, voice smooth. "I look forward to seeing you every game, you're my favorite." You blush at his creepy compliment, continuing to annotate the quotes in the book. "Thank you, I work hard. But seriously.. who are you?" You repeat.

He chuckles to himself, "What? You want to see me? Want me to show myself?" You shake your head giggling, unaware of the danger coming your way. "No, I just need your name." You said.

"Need," he repeated. "Y'know what I need at a time like this? A warm cunt I can stretch out," he groaned. Bewildered, you check your phone to see who called, no caller ID. "Uh, what?" You awkwardly chuckled, growing uncomfortable.

"You're a virgin, right y/n?" He asked. You nodded, unaware you were being watched, but you did it subconsciously anyways. "You ever thought about it? Getting fucked by a cock?" He asked through the phone. "Of course I have. But it's never been the right time, y'know? I want my first time to be special."

As you spoke Ethan snuck his way into the house, making his way towards the room where you basked. "Trust me," he spoke, breath heavy. "It will be," he finished, stepping his way into your doorframe.

You screamed out, scared, shaking uncontrollably. "Oh my god! Get the fuck out I swear to god, my boyfriend will be back soon, and he will not be happy with you." He tilted his head, knife in hand. "And you think he's happy with you?" He asked, plunging onto the bed, mounting the top of you, struggling to hold you down. He started to graze the blade of the knife against your jaw. "Every weekend," he drags out, still using a voice changer through the mask. "He goes missing. He goes to the sorority house and knocks up a couple of sisters."

You tear at the news, not wanting to believe it. "You're lying!" You spit, trying to escape his grasp to no use. "No, doll. I am telling nothing but the truth." You reach up to try to pull the mask off to no use, he pinned your arms down onto the bed. He sighs and gets up off of you, pointing the knife at you so you stay put.

He places a camera on the dresser, facing the bed. "What'd you say we get back at him, hm? We make him a little movie, and he see's how good I fuck you?" He said, climbing back onto the bed. You cry, "Please no." You shake your head with tears streaming down your red cheeks. "Please fucking yes," he mocks, reaching up your nightie.

You gasp when his gloved hands grasp your body, making their way up to your breasts making you whimper. "Your boyfriend ever touch you like this?" He asks. You shake your head a no in response, sniffling a little.

His hands moved down to your delicate lacy panties, slipping them off swiftly. You gasp as the cold hair hits your pussy. He takes the gloves off of his hands and tossed them onto the floor before toying with your folds. You weren't soaking but you were getting there, wetness dripping out of your pussy.

He attempted to slip a finger inside but you were so goddamn tight. You whined having nothing ever been in there before, not even a tampon. He finally got one in and you moaned out, kicking your foot a little. "Easy," he whispered, trying to make room for another finger. You were much wetter on the inside then out. "Please, if you want to live just s-stop. My boyfriend will actually kill y-" You were cut off by your own moan when he slips in his second finger.

You moaned at his big fingers, extremely sensitive. "No, stop- Ethan," you moaned out. His face shot up when you said his name. You noticed his reaction. "You don't even have to hide it," you said breathily, chest heaving. "I've never told anyone I'm a virgin." With that he slips the mask off, revealing his cute but devilish face and sweaty curls. He bit his lip and curled his fingers deeper inside you making you screech.

You shook your head a no as you felt yourself grow close, but your body was going against your protests, molding itself against his touch. "Ethan please s-stop," you pleaded as your thighs started to clench. Your hips completely contradicted your words, bucking into his fingers before letting out a final scream and secreting fluids onto his fingers and your sheets. He inhales before leaning down and sucking your clit, extending your high.

You huff and puff, chest rising and falling. Ethan pops off of your clit and goes for your lips, kissing you. You don't kiss back, trying to retract your lips as much as possible. You couldn't deny he was a good kisser, but he broke into your house and fingered you against your will, and made you orgasm.

"Come on, baby," he grunts into the kiss. "You can't deny I'm the best you've ever had." You shake your head when he finally pulls away. "You're the only I've ever had! Please Ethan, I love my boyfriend, I don't want this." You cry, but he keeps groping you through your dress anyways, making you throb again. "Well maybe I don't care what you want. I care what your cunt does." He says, kissing at your neck as he continues to toy with your heavy, cloth covered tits.

Your nipples grew perky and you moaned as he sucked on that sweet spot on your neck. He left a mark on your neck and pulled away, then he started to pull down his pants. After that he took off the whole costume, leaving him naked on your bed. "You look so sexy in that dress, but you're going to have to take it off." You shook your head a no. "No?" He mocks. He picked up his knife from the side. "Guess I'll have to cut it off." Your eyes grow wide, not wanting to ruin the expensive gift from your boyfriend. "No!" You yell, stopping his actions. "I'll take it off," you say weakly, pulling it over your head.

"Good girl," he cooed. "God you're beautiful." He groans, pumping himself in his hand, eyeing your pretty, dainty tits. "Come on, try it," he urged, guiding your hand to his length. You wrapped around him perfectly, hand more gentle than his own. He groaned as you jerked him, feeling disgusted with yourself. On your boyfriends bed, giving your econ partner a handjob.

He groaned and grew more desperate, needing to be inside of you more than anything. He removed your hand from him. "Turn around," he spoke, motioning you to face the headboard. You choked on tears, complying worriedly. He pushes your face into your pillow and guides your ass up. He grabs the knife and grazes it along your back, making your spine shiver.

"Ethan please, we can forget about this, I swear." You beg, but it doesn't stop him. Ethan teases your opening with his tip making your mouth agape. You involuntarily start to push back against him, scooting your ass back to meet his cock. "Slut," he remarks, slapping your ass cheek leaving it a bright red.

He grips your ass with his hands, making you suck in air a little, before he pushes in a little more than the tip. You groan at the stretch, face contorting uncomfortably. He let you adjust a little, only using the tip for a solid minute. "Ethan please stop, it hurts s'much," you whined. "Hurts? I'm not even halfway," he chuckled out, continuing to fuck you with his thick, pink tip. You cried, stomach bubbling up from the stimulation.

Your wetness seeped onto his cock, making it easier for him to ease his way all the way in, slamming his hips against your ass making you bite your pillow, screaming into it. "That's it," he whispered, slowly thrusting in and out of you. You moaned into the pillow, arching your back.

He grunted and started to get rougher, slamming his hips against yours, every thrust making the bed frame hit the wall. He gripped your hair and pulled your head out of the pillow, your face covered with tears. You moaned, gripping the sheets behind you while taking him from the back. You felt yourself getting close again, stomach tightening as you felt the sensation of having to piss. He felt you clench around his length and whispered in your ear, "Cum on my fucking cock, slut."

In response to his words you screamed out as you came around his cock, leaving a creamy ring around his base. He let go of your hair, letting you collapse back onto the bed. He continued to hold your ass up, continuing to hit it roughly, groaning at every one of your throbs. You started to salivate a little against the pillow due to your excessive whines.

He wiped the sweat off of his forehead while panting, getting close. His thrusts through sloppy and less uniformed. "Gonna breed this pussy, and you're gonna wish I was in you every second of every fucking day," he spat out, huffing and not being able to hold back any longer. With a final thrust, he came deep in your cunt, shooting spurt after spurt inside you. After he pulled out, his cum dripped out of you followed by the sound of flatulence.

You laid there and didn't even realize how much time has passed. Ethan disappeared through your window that was now open with his camera with everything documented. Through the window, you saw lights of a car, and soon your boyfriend stumbled in, eyeing your cum dripping cunt.

[shallyouobeyme]

Map

Platonic!Yandere!Damian x reader (GN)

Summary: Damian and you have to work on a project together and he realizes how you seem to be invisible to everyone else - how you want to be invisible - and something in him makes him want, no need, to figure out why...

! Minors Do Not Interact !

TW: Domestic abuse (not shown directly), planned kidnapping, Dark content, yandere, This is all fiction, I do not condone this

Day 4 of my Yandere Writetober, Tomorrow word is 'Golden' so if you have any ideas lemme know

People did not think Damian was sentimental, most of all his family. If a person had an idea of who Damian was, but wasn’t close to him or hasn’t personally met him then they could probably still assume that in private he might be a bit more emotional than in public. This person would be wrong though. Sure, in private Damian might be a little more open and showed a few more emotions, but most of those were rage, pettiness and sarcasm. Damian was a lot of things, but definitely not sentimental. At least not usual. And then you came into his life. 

From the moment he was born, Damian had a map of how exactly his life would be played out. Then he was brought to his family and the map changed. From wanting to become the next head of the League of Assassins, he now wanted to become the next Batman. He wanted to step up once his father needed to step down and take his rightful place as the head of the family. Alone.

Everyone and everything else that was a hindrance in that way - be it his age, school, villains, friends or even his own family - was just an obstacle on the map of his life. He thought you'd be just the same, a Problem to be taken care of and to leave behind. Just another annoying child in his class - which Bruce insisted he attend - that weren't fit for the reality of life he faced every single day. It was just typical that he had to be stuck with you working on a project for a class in which he had a grade to make up, because of too many absences. He didn't bother to question why you had to do the project, he just wanted to get it over with.

"I'll be doing the project - I doubt you could help anyways - and you can just put your name on it as well, then I don't have to bother with you," Damian sneered to you once class was disbanded, already more than done with you and with the situation. You seemed to turn into yourself and he recognized how shy and intimidated you were and if he had been just a tad more empathetic he'd feel bad. Damian rolled his eyes and turned to leave when your hand tugged on his uniform's blazer.

"Uhm... I-I'm sorry, but-but I'd really like to-to work on the project together, I-I really need this grade," you stuttered, your head lowered in shame, even though you had no real reason to be ashamed. Damian wanted to make a snide comment about how the project was definitely better off if he was doing it on his own, but something about how small and fragile you looked kept him from doing so.

That was the first detour from the life on his map. That moment of emotion that no one witnessed, not even you because of how your head was held down. And it was only the beginning. He scoffed at your request, but it wasn't truly malicious like before.

"Fine, but we'll do it at your place today after school, no discussion," Damian stated and left no room for arguments, turning around and leaving the room, not hearing your small sound of protest.

During the rest of the school day, Damian couldn't help but watch you from the corner of his eyes, he saw how you were hidden in your uniform, seemingly wanting to merge with the backdrop of the classroom, how you kept completely to yourself and seemingly managed to become completely invisible to anyone but him and some of your teachers.

So after school, he had to keep his eyes peeled open to see you come out since you really seemed to disappear between all the other students. He went over to you and told you to lead the way home, not bothering to offer to have Alfred drive the two of you since, for reasons he didn't understand himself, he wanted to spend the time with you alone. Detour number two.

The way to your home was spent in silence, Damian looking around sceptically and you turned into yourself like you always seemed to be. The route to your home took you out of the more or less safe and high-income neighbourhood of Gotham Academy to the less secure area not that different from the region around Crime Alley. He wondered how your parents were able to afford your tuition for Gotham Academy, but he knew that you were rather good in school so he figured you were on a scholarship.

When you finally arrived at a rundown apartment complex you brought him to a flat on the fifth story, carefully opening the door as if you were afraid of making any sound.

"I'm sorry if it's a bit messy," you mumbled vaguely in his direction as you carefully opened the door and Damian realized it was the first thing he had seen you say since you had asked him to let you work on the project as well. Then you lead him into the apartment and everything somewhat fell into place.

To say it was a bit messy was an understatement. There were empty bottles of beer, vodka, wine and all other kinds of alcoholic beverages, Damian even caught sight of some less legal substances, but he decided not to mention them aloud, already seeing based on the darkening colour of your face and the way you tried to avoid looking anywhere near him that you were highly ashamed and emberassed. Detour number three.

He saw how you looked through the open doors into the other - not cleaner - rooms and he could hear your relieved sigh when there was no one else in there with the two of you. Then you lead him into your room if one could call it a room, which had a size just barely big enough for a measly small bed, a box usually meant for laundry filled with your clothes and a small desk that looked like you had taken it from the side of the road. There was no chair or even a stool.

Damian noticed Jason's influence - much to his anger - when his first thought was that 'Harry Potter would feel bad for you'. His next thought was that you didn't deserve to live like that, that you deserved better. Detour number four brought him right off of the road like never before.

"Uhm... You-You can sit on the bed if that's okay, I'll-I'll sit on the floor, then we can work on the project," you spoke hesitantly and shuffled to sit on what little space was left on the floor, but was stopped when Damian pulled you to sit beside him on the bed.

"There's enough space here for both of us," he argued and turned to you. "But- uhm- we don't have any space for the project then."

You were right, he supposed, as he saw that both of you sitting on the bed were basically taking up all the mattress had to offer. He sighed and decided that he was already neck deep into whatever was happening so he might as well see where it was going.

"Then we won't do the project today," he stated in the same tone that left nothing up for discussion and you seemed almost relieved, "We can work on it tomorrow after school in the library."

"O-Okay, I'm sorry it's so-" You stopped in your tracks, seemingly on the verge of tears, and then gave it another go, "-I'm sorry you came here for nothing, I can lead you to the door."

"I'm not leaving yet," Damian said much to your surprise as he saw the shock displayed on your face, "first I want you to tell me what is going on here." He tried to tell himself that it was just his vigilante persona shining through, but deep inside he knew it was you that made him so curious about this situation.

"What do you mean?" you squeaked, obviously - but badly - trying to hide something. Damian let his instincts lead him as he quickly took your hand and pulled up your sleeve, he had been noticing how you were playing with it every time you were scared or ashamed. He wasn't all too surprised to see blue, purple, green and yellow splotches littered over the area, some bruises new, some old. You tried to pull your hand away, but Damian's grip stayed strong.

He pulled your hand even closer to him as he inspected the arm and asked: "Did your parents do that to you?" He looked up at your face and saw tears welling up in your eyes. It made you look even more fragile and delicate than he already thought you looked like throughout the day, but it also made this rage well up inside of Damian. How dare these people make you cry, how dare they hurt you. He wanted to rip them apart, wanted to make sure nothing and no one ever hurt you again.

"Tell me the truth, I will help you, I promise," Damian encouraged you and received a weak nod from you as your tears started to flow down your face in streaks. "Okay, give me a second, I'll be right back, don't worry." Damian used his blazer's sleeve to gently wipe away some of the tears - something that his family would believe to be a lie if you had told him about it - and got up to leave the room to call Alfred to come pick him and you up.

He told Alfred that he'd be inviting a friend for a sleepover, hanging up on a too-stunned-to-speak Alfred who was surely already on his way to inform Bruce of this new development, he didn't bother to tell him that he planned for it to be a more... permanent... sleepover.

You needed him, you needed him to protect you, to care for you, to make sure you never again had a reason to cry. You were such a pure, fragile soul, one that didn't deserve to be left alone in this cruel world, he was sure that once his father had met you he'd understand. He'd feel the same way. You'd be safe with them, they'd become your family, the family you deserved and needed.

And if Bruce didn't agree if Bruce told him that he was crazy, that he couldn't just take you away from your life, no matter how bad it was, and take over your entire existence... well, he had already become ready to derail his entire plan, had become ready to redraw the entire map of his life just for him to have you along, so he might as well return to his roots because he was sure his mother would be more than happy to take you in as long as it made Damian return...

[agaypanic]

Regina's Barbie (Regina George X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: You’re Regina George’s latest project, but her reasoning for fixing you up is completely different than what you think.

A/N: a little drabble based on this ask that i answered a couple days ago bc it keeps getting interaction and lowkey i cant stop thinking about the concept ugh

***

“Hold still.” Regina scolded for what felt like the hundredth time, hand holding your jaw firmly to keep you in place while she put blush on your cheeks.

“Sorry.” You whispered, looking at the wall behind her so you didn’t have to face her intense gaze.

When Regina approached you one day, twirling her perfect blonde hair around her finger as she asked you if you wanted to hang out, you thought it was a prank. It had to have been, because there was no other reason why Regina George would even consider getting close to a ‘nobody’ like you. But when you stuttered out a response, her grin seemed genuine when telling you to meet you at her car after school. Sure enough, she was sitting in her car with the rest of the Plastics, beckoning you to come over and sit in the seat behind her.

Gretchen and Karen seemed to be a bit confused by your presence but didn’t question Regina. They welcomed you, but didn’t go out of their way to make conversation with you while Regina drove to the mall.

When she parked, Regina basically pulled you into shops by the arm, her friends rushing behind you. She thrusted some sweater into your hands, telling you that you just had to try it on. And when you tried telling her you couldn’t afford it, she rolled her eyes, took a credit card out of her purse, and dragged you to a fitting room.

And now you were here, perched on Regina’s bed while she did your makeup. She had insisted that the way you did it was all wrong and that you needed to know the proper way to do it. Gretchen and Karen weren’t here, which surprised you a bit. But you knew better than to question Regina.

“Okay, now you need lipgloss,” Regina said, looking through some of the glosses she had bought you. She opened one and looked at you. “Pucker up.”

You gulped at the demand, but did as she said. Regina grabbed your jaw again, a bit more gently this time, as she swiped the wand over your lips. She bit her lip in concentration as she stared at your mouth.

“Perfect.” She muttered, capping the gloss and taking you to one of her many mirrors.

You hardly recognized yourself, but Regina definitely didn’t do a bad job. She smiled at you through the mirror.

“What do you think?” She asked, leaning her head against yours a bit.

“I look…” It was hard to find an end to your sentence with the way Regina looked at you, like you were a piece of meat. “Pretty.”

“Hell yeah, you do.” She fiddled with your hair, trying to put it in a style she thought would be more suitable. “Oh my god, I totally forgot. We’re going to a party later, so we gotta find something for you to wear.”

“What?” You were a bit taken aback, not expecting to go to a party tonight. Especially with Regina. “Couldn’t I just wear this?”

Regina laughed, and it didn’t seem like that fake, almost mocking laugh she’d do when people tried to be funny with her. It sounded genuine, like she was actually amused by your question.

“No way, Y/n! Wait here, I think I have something you can wear.” She sped into her closet, leaving you to stand awkwardly in her room. Luckily, she came back quickly with a two-piece outfit. Regina went behind you, hands holding the clothes up to your body. “You’d look so good in this. Besides, it’s better than, like, anything you own.”

She kissed your cheek before sending you off to the bathroom to change. It was so quick that you barely registered what had happened until you were already switching your clothes for hers. You caught sight of yourself in the mirror, seeing a faint lip print on your cheekbone. You decided to leave it, not wanting Regina to get mad at you for messing up the makeup she spent practically forever putting on you.

When you left the bathroom, Regina was fixing up her lipstick in the mirror. She turned to you and smiled a bit, straightening up a bit.

“See, I told you you’d look good.” She took your clothes, throwing them on the bed, before noticing the mark she left on you. Regina stepped closer to see it better, soon looking at you with the same hungry look from before. “Keep that, it’s hot.” Then she walked away to change her shoes.

You took a deep breath. This was gonna be a long night.

***

Part 2

[bella-goths-wife]

How would Pet reader and Alastor interact after he returned from his 7 year long absence?

How would Alastor and pet interact after his absence

I assume you mean in the canon au and not the alastor makes a deal with you au but if I’m wrong feel free to request again :)

I’m sorry it’s not much interacting but they don’t really meet much at this point in the story

Warnings: abuse mentioned, obsessive behaviour

After his seven year absence, alastor did try to subtly seek you out

He lingered around where he met you and expected to find you in the same position you were in seven years ago, a starving little fawn on the street who was desperate enough for shelter that you’d be willing to make a deal

But he didn’t find you, not a trace of the little doe eyed fool he had felt such a familiarity with

So he cut his losses for the meantime and decided that he would trouble one of the many souls he owned to stalk you down

So imagine his surprise when on a random afternoon he passed by angel and heard your voice from angels annoying little gadget

He asked for a closer look and there you were, the person who had been on his mind for the seven years was stood with the Vs surrounding them

You looked different though

You were cleaner and more well fed, meaning you had been able to escape the cold streets and found food

But there was a difference in your eyes as you posed with the Vs, there was a lack of something

Your eyes didn’t hold the same curiosity or passion that he knew of the girl he met several years ago who was so eager to learn more about her abilities

You looked like a candle lit flame that was running at the bottom of wick and was being drowned out and smothered by candle wax, your fire was slowly dying inside you

He demanded angel showed him everything out there that pertained to you, and angel gladly did with the small hope that maybe alastor would take enough interest in you to help you

Alastor absorbed every piece of media you were in and every sound you had created, anything that the internet held of you alastor would consume

He observed how the passion slowly died from your face and the years went on, he heard how your music which was once so alive and inventive turn into something generic and easily forgotten

In many ways he prepared himself to mourn the person he had met, he doubted that there was any of you left to mourn considering the Vs had drained your presence of its spark

Alastor felt something he hadn’t felt in a while, he felt pity for you

He heard of the horrifying things your were subjected to on a daily basis and he just couldn’t stop the sympathy from bubbling to to the service

He was no good soul owner himself, he was fairly abusive but that’s only when he had to correct behaviour

He felt overwhelming jealousy and anger at Vox over how Vox had claimed your soul before him and ruined you

Alastor could have made you into something great, something more than a pet to the rich for when they felt cruel or bored

Alastor was almost ready to give up on you and see you as a failed project, but something stopped him

angel had mentioned your acts of kindness towards him and alastor had to hear of your very intriguing presence from Charlie, so he decided to test you before giving up to see if you were worth more effort

He followed you for weeks on end with his shadows, and he saw many things

He saw how your cunning side could slip out when you saw an opportunity to escape a punishment and how manipulative you could be

He also saw how your anger had gotten the best of you on many occasions and watched as your powers manifested into something dangerous, something lethal

He fantasied about making you into a powerful being, someone who could one day be on a level close to his

He wanted to sculpt you like a sculpture and make you into something bigger than the pentagram had ever seen, he wanted to protect you from the past and make you strong enough to protect yourself from the present

He had angel dust sneak into your room and slip a radio under your bed so he could listen in to your surroundings

He heard you be your authentic self without having to water yourself down

He heard your moments of brief happiness and he heard the many overwhelmingly cruel acts committed to you

He heard your sobs and swear for a minute he felt himself grow caring enough to want to comfort you

So he played a soothing song from the radio once you were too distracted by your sobbing, so it could calm you to sleep and at least offer you the minimal comfort he could offer to you

He felt himself growing attached to the idea of bringing you back to the hotel and surrounding you in his arms like a child to make sure you wouldn’t have to see the faces of your abusers again

He began concocting plans to help you escape, and he was determined to one day own your soul so he could sculpt you in his image like he intended to do several years ago

He had never felt himself caring about anyone this much, he had a need to know where you were at all times and even felt himself grow antsy to see you in person and talk with you like you once did

Parts of him even felt a paternal sense of worry and concern over you in a way he’s never experience before

And he was determined to save you from Vox and bring you home

@lilyalone @repostingmyfavs @the-faceless-bride @idontreallyexistyet @hazbinhotelxreader @corvid007 @fandomaddict505 @buttercupfangirl @ivebeenthearchersstuff @sparkleyfishies @perkypeony @rerarlo

[in3rci4]

maybe you could do TBP boys x GN reader who is always serious and calm and doesn't have the habit of smiling, smiling for the first time

Thank you for the request and for giving an idea too 😊🥹 ! I appreciate it , hope it's not too bad ❤️‍🩹

" And then they smiled , that's what i'm after . A smile on their eyes , the sound of their laugher"

The title comes from a small piece of the lyrics of the song " Drift away" from Steven Universe

Prompt : The Black Phone boys reaction at the reader who's always serious and calm , smile and laugh for the first time

Characters included: Vance Hopper , Bruce Yamada , Billy Showalter , Robin Arellano , Griffin Stagg , Finney Blake

WARNINGS !! : Character x reader content , no use of y/n , idk what else to say , Gn ! Reader , Reader might have some backstory I guess ¿? maybe a mix of Fluff and Angst ¿? Some gonna be shorter than others , spelling mistakes

Vance Hopper

You two knew each other for some time now , you were home schooled not so long ago so you didn't had an idea of Pin Ball Vance Hopper reputation . The moment the teacher assigned the both of you for a project , you weren't walking on eggshells like everybody else did with him while talking , you didn't expect anything from him , for you , Vance was just ... Vance . That's the exact reason why you befriend him in no time , your non judgmental personality , and you were completely unaware he wasn't like this with anyone , anyone but you . Even if your words were nice and honest he noticed how cautious you were with your movements and expressions , he thought it was weird at first , your voice didn't matched with the look in your face in his opinion , but Vance got used to it pretty quick , he's not a smiley guy either , he was ... A little more grumpy person than you . Just like usual , in the weekend you would stay by his side watching him play his Pin Ball game , and also making sure he didn't beat anyone if anything went wrong with it , but those are details . You got hungry and decided to buy Mrs Ellen a small snack bag , when you went back to the side of the machine ( not too close to possibly bump it though ) he started to get close to beating his high score . You gasped in excitement and then he heard the sound of the machine saving his new record on the top of it . Vance let go of the arcade game machine and started to shake you excited as well by your arms , you doing the exact same thing with the snack bag still in your hands

" You did it Vance , you finally beat your high score !"

You said with a smile while laughing of enjoyment

" See !? Told ya , told ya I would fucking beat that shit , didn't I !? "

You kept laughing and smiling from the happiness of had seen it happening after so long , so many failed tries were worth for this day to happen . Vance in the other hand stopped moving your body to stare at you instead .

You were smiling , smiling in a genuine , happy and .... He would say in a beautiful way too . Is this how you look like when you're happy ? The real you ?

Maybe he should try to get you to smile more often .

Confused about the sudden change of attitude you asked him with a small giggle

" Vance , are you ok ? "

Yes , he would be ok , as long as you are with him for a little longer like this .

Bruce Yamada

He was a popular and loved guy , he didn't had trouble hanging with almost everybody in school, and Bruce didn't have to do any effort in finding someone to date either . And yet , a particular classmate of his , you , was the one that had all his attention . A person that minded their own business and never had smile in front of anybody before , and still looks like a magazine model .

Bruce wanted to get close to you for years , but he never had the opportunity , ironically , he never had the courage to go straight at you and tell how good looking you are , you look so serious that you kinda scared him , but not enough to stop liking you .

The biology teacher didn't had a clue how happy he made Bruce the day he paired you and him in a project for the science , finally he could have his opportunity , his chance with you . Dying of anxiety inside like his first baseball game , he asked you

" Hey , I know we never talked before and stuff , but would you like to stop at my house tomorrow to speed up things ? For the project , you know ? Maybe we could go out somewhere in the weekend if everything goes well "

Looking into his eyes and with suspicion in yours you asked as well

" As a date ?"

He wasn't expecting you to be straightforward as well , so he fidget with his fingers a little and with a nervous yet bright smile he said

" Yeah , I mean , if you want to of course "

The recess bell rang and everybody stood up to be free again , you grabbed your book and walked towards the door , but before you leave you said looking at him

" it's a date then "

With a smile that could've killed Bruce if he didn't want to stay alive to see you tomorrow , God bless the biology teachers man .

Billy Showalter

His dog Harper was Billy's loyal companion , a very well behaved girl too , never biting things that she shouldn't , no barking unless there's danger or she's commanded to , not jumping into people in excitement , in general , a really good girl . The mornings delivering News Papers are much better with her by his side , at that hour people are still processing their awakening and there's little people on the street , but the ones that are outside never got a complain about her , in fact , they usually want to ask for permission to pet her instead . Lately someone that he seen outside at early morning was you , sometimes with groceries in your hand , sometimes only walking by yourself . You were one of Billy's classmate , but he doesn't talk with anybody in it , at least not anymore , and you were no exception . Sometimes he founds himself staring at you and then snapping out of it , trying to ignore whatever feeling he had to do such thing , but something about you , that mysterious unexpressive charm , the stern look in your eyes , is something that he can't quite describe with words and is afraid of digging for a definition in his mind . Unfortunately for this boy one of those mornings you decided to walk your rescued male dog and Harper for the first time ran away towards the dog to meet him , both with waggy happy tails sniffing each other . Billy stops his bike at a mailbox and runs towards her , to you

" Harper ! Harper ! I'm Sorry , she's never like that , I don't know what's up with her "

The female dog comes close to you waiting to be petted , and you were more than happy to give her what she wanted

" it's ok , she's a really good girl , she just wanted to meet the new handsome boy here "

Billy knew you were referring about your dog , but his stupid brain still made his cheeks burn from the blush , why's he's being like this ?

Harper licks your hand and you giggle from the tickle feeling in your palm , you smile , and he smiles too . More pleased about the morning you said

" You want me to walk with you while you deliver your papers ? Then we can both take the dogs for a walk "

Something more mysterious about you was how quickly you made Billy accepted the fact once for all about his crush about you , maybe the moment your face light up with your smile had enchanted him

" Yeah , I don't mind , Harper hasn't seen that many dogs around anyway "

Harper always helping him in the simple things , she's for sure getting a special treat today after you're gone .

Robin Arellano

He may not seem like that , but he's a person with a good memory and remembers a bunch of people even they don't remember him ( Difficult to say since almost everybody in school knows his name ) . He remembers you from elementary school , Robin thought you were the cute one of the class , although his classmates prefer to call you the " quiet " one . He noticed how you never changed , always focusing on your studies and never smiling , not even for the photos , not even for politeness , always keeping your expressions neutral and seriousness in your way of acting .

Life crossed your paths the day a bully that didn't find his victim who didn't showed up in school decided to go after you instead , poor choice of decision , because Robin did , he showed up , and beat him up .

After he was done , he walked on his way to the boy's bathroom , but you stopped him , and Robin was deep down afraid he messed up things instead of making them better between both of you

" Robin ! "

Trying to keep his cool when he hears your voice behind him , he turns around and responds

" yeah ?"

Without finding more words to describe your gratitude , you kept it simple and said with a gentle smile

" Thank you "

Yes ! He did impressed you ! It was all damn worth it !

" No problem "

Robin walked again feeling like the main character of an action movie , and you smiled at him too ? You ? The good looking and serious you ? Nah he ain't forgetting this day for nothing !

Finney Blake

This year he wasn't sitting alone on the back on the class , well , he was still on the back on the class , but he was sharing his desk this time , with you . Finney had to admit it was hella awkward , I mean , he can't complain that much since it could be worse or Finney himself is too much of a shy guy to start a conversation or keep it on with a stranger . You , his desk mate , never talked to him , not even once , and your cold serious personality didn't make things easier , the two of you introverts , teachers never had to complain about the noise that you guys could make in class . A regular day in math class the teacher talked about the possibility of numbers being negative and being under the 0 , this got the interest of the students because it was something relatively new so far .

Finney murmured to himself casually

" Damn , not even numbers can't stay positive "

It was a bad joke ? Yes , but it was so unexpected he stole a snort and giggle from you , you had to shut yourself up with your hand or else more laughing would be heard by the teacher .

In Finney's opinion it was a terrible one , he's not even that funny , he was surprised yet amused at your sudden change of expression . Maybe he could push his luck a little further ?

" I guess we can't be negative if we just started "

You stopped from escaping a laugh from your mouth once again , maybe Finney couldn't see your complete smile , but your half closed happy eyes got his ego fly over the roof .

They say " stay with the one that makes you laugh "

So don't worry , laugh all you want from now on , he's good at math anyway , he can always teach you if you got too distracted for him .

Not like Finney minds your company at all .

Griffin Stagg

The day he saw you smile after 2 years of watching you keeping your face as unexpressed as possible , was the day a older group of bullies bumped into him , and God , he was so fine with being invisible for other students and not dealing with being a punch bag , that he tried to run away as fast as he could before they could do anything . But stronger and experts on making kid's lives hell , they quickly grabbed his shirt and started to mock him and test him in front of everybody in the cafeteria . Griffin didn't say anything , he couldn't , or else it would be worse , he knows that like the back of his hand . 3 tall dudes , 1 grabbing his shirt , 2 grabbing each of the boy's arms , it seemed like everything was lost , but you pulled up the one in front of Griffin by the shirt and tucked him to the ground . The two boys left pushed Griffin to the ground as well , and went straight to attack you .

But you dodge all of them easily .

After giving the whole cafeteria a show to watch , the boys got up and swore that it wasn't over , but you couldn't care less . You walked towards Griffin and offered him your hand , he stays still without knowing what to say or do more than stare in confusion , until he spoke

" Thank you ... For helping me "

With a big bright smile that didn't fit someone like you , so serious and capable of defeating 3 guys , you responded

" It's nothing , now get up Griff "

Griff ? No one has called him like that before . But , it doesn't sound bad , right ? He kinda likes the nickname .

[dottiro]

Hide & Seek

Unreliable summary:  If you’re a visual learner, Dottore is more than happy to give some help. // Dottore brought you to Snezhnaya so he can perform conscious brain surgery as an act of love. Warnings: Yandere, Medical malpractice, awake brain surgery, kidnapping without an actual kidnapping scene, Dottore cuts through the skull of a person (not you), being drugged, Dottore dissects a brain (affectionately), GN reader, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!! Note: This is a rewrite of THIS fic from my old blog. This could've been longer, but I cut out the gore parts to make it less dark. // This fic is NOT set in the canon Teyvat; it is a mix of my modern AU + personal projection. My perception of him might not align with the OG. I wanted to write this scenario in my way/this is supposed to be a SERIES—if I post more of this AU the setup makes sense (trust).

You used to study in the illustrious Akademiya, hoping to pursue a life filled with studies regarding the human psyche. 

You used to—until you got acquainted with Zandik and your life turned around for the worse. 

Perhaps if you weren’t so busy pursuing knowledge, you would’ve seen that his help was never given without a debt to repay. The charming facade with which he lured you in is only one of the many masks he wears. Zandik, or as you now know—Il Dottore: the second of the eleven Fatui Harbingers, never intended for you to escape his grasp.

Not then,

Not now.

You try to remember where it went wrong.

Your head buzzes with a weird feeling when you open your eyes. You’re dazed, and your environment is unfamiliar to you. For some reason, your mind can’t think straight. 

Outside the window, you watch snowflakes twirl down until they meet upon a pool of white that stretches beyond the horizon. Only a few pine trees interrupt the otherwise dull landscape.

You try to remember how you got here, only to find a gap in your memories.

The bed in which you woke up is unfamiliar too. At the foot end, you see your jacket. It has been folded neatly and is accompanied by your shoes which are tucked underneath the bed. 

It had been visible enough to notice but placed purposefully to avoid anyone tripping. 

Someone put it there on purpose.

After inspecting the pockets of your jacket, you find that your belongings have been taken.

Your eyes move further across the room until you catch a familiar sight. The notebook that had catalysed your current situation. Similar to your jacket and shoes, it has been placed in sight for a reason. 

When you open the notebook on a random page, you can see new additions; or rather—changes.

Zandik’s handwriting covers your own, dominating your thoughts in writing as he does in voice.

You close your eyes as another wave of nausea hits.

At the start of a new school year in the Akademiya, you met Zandik in one of the off-campus libraries. He came crashing into your life like a bullet flying out of its barrel and straight into someone’s chest; aiming for his target and striking the bullseye without effort. 

In this metaphor, you were his target and the arrow Zandik himself. 

His actions have been destructive to many, but with you still alive at his side, you’re inclined to believe his intentions are physically harmless to you—which feels like a juxtaposition. Zandik’s weird infatuation with wanting to be accepted might be the sole reason for your current survival. 

In your admiration for his ingenuity and endless knowledge, you became captivated and blind to everything that opposed the perfect ‘Zandik’ you had created in your mind. In this blind fever, you had made him feel as if he was. To be free from the title of ‘outcast’ had sparked something in him, and he would do everything to hold onto this new feeling of approval and pure endorsement.

For a while, life with him was profitable for both parties involved. 

To have a friend like him is to feel like you are unstoppable. But, once he felt he was giving more than he could seize, he forcefully started claiming what he believed was rightfully his.

Ultimately, Zandik did not take your life—he reformed it.

All you had, is no more. 

And he is to blame.

One day you are in a lecture at the Akademiya, and the next you wake up in an unfamiliar place. In any other situation, you would have recognised the surroundings earlier. However, with the fog in your mind, it takes a while to uncover your location; Snezhnaya.

Your hand rests against the window to steady yourself. Even with the thick glass separating you from the outside world, you feel the cold touching your palm. Snow continues to rain from above. A few solitary snowflakes land on the window. They melt and pool at the bottom, freezing the window shut and locking you in.

An agitated sigh escapes your lips as your mind continues to drift between awareness and stupor. 

Through the hallway, a voice carries a conversation with only its echo in response. Mysteriously, the mutters come in and out of earshot—as if they were moving from room to room. The sound of footsteps follows. At first, they approach. Then, they leave. 

Your fingers press into your scalp when you drag your fingers through your hair. When you place your hands into sight, you open and close them. For some reason, they seem distant, as if not your own. 

Before you follow the sounds, you ensure that you’re grounded by steadying your breaths.

ㅤ

You leave your jacket and shoes at the end of the bed, leaving the room barefoot.

· · ────── Ω ────── · ·

The building that cages you resembles an old villa. Evident from the layers of dust, it has been unused for at least a decade. The majority—if not all of the furniture you see has been hidden by white fabrics. 

To you, it’s easy to see. This home has been neglected. Whether the owner of the house wanted to forget its existence or not is up for speculation. 

As you walk further into the hallway, you see a frame with an old Kamera picture of Zandik hung on the wall. Another white cloth hangs over it, but it must have gone loose since the left side reveals part of the picture.

You catch a glimpse of his younger, more humane, face. 

For a moment, you wonder when and how he became a Harbinger. You wonder how this young man turned into this creature that brings destruction everywhere he goes.

Ultimately, you decide to ignore it, choosing to press forward instead of lingering in the past.

Then, over the noise of your thoughts, you hear an odd sound. Somewhere near you, an object is being rolled across the floor. It’s an unusual sound—something that throws you off. Yet, the noise isn’t rough. 

The more you listen to it, the more you recognise it as wheels on a cart being pulled along. You decide to stand still for a moment, hoping the fog in your mind clears so you can pinpoint where the sounds come from.

Your hand brushes against the interior wall as you take another step forward. 

A warm orange light invites you in at the end of the hallway. As you approach closer, so do the noises become louder. 

You discern a deep voice, talking to what seems to be himself. The man sounds educated, arrogant—but also sophisticated, and carries himself with more pride than grace.  

For a moment, you’re certain it’s not Zandik; who is more animated, dynamic—and compared to this voice, softer with tone, but then you walk into the room to be face-to-face with him.

“Good evening.” Dottore greets you. His voice is steady, never revealing any emotions to you.

If he hadn’t heard you walking up the room, he does a good job hiding it. His response to your arrival is instant; as if your entrance had been expected. 

His attention on the previous task is disrupted, and now his sole focus lies on you. The silver glint of his mask shines in the evening glow as he tilts his head towards you.

Curiously, you take a set into the room. 

A large wine-red carpet covers most of the wooden flooring of the space. In the centre of which, stands a large dinner table. Most of the lighting comes from the candles that have been lit, or the open windows that bring in the last of the golden hour. 

On one end of the table sits a man in a wheelchair. When you see him you realise the sounds from earlier must’ve been him being pushed forward. 

With a controlled smile, Dottore holds out one of his arms—gesturing to the room. “Do take a seat, guest.” 

Your eyes follow his outstretched arm towards the only other chair in the room. Conveniently, it’s placed at the other end of the table, though, you doubt Dottore was occupying the seat before you. 

Cautiously you approach. As you enter the room, your confused state worsens. In the atmosphere hangs a sweet scent that makes your mind dizzy and unable to focus. 

A cold breeze comes through one of the open windows. The goosebumps on your arms only occur once you notice it. Have your senses been dulled?

Dottore smiles calmly. 

“What did you do with me?” You try to ascertain the hazy feeling that suppresses your logical thoughts. 

You’ve been drugged.

Dottore circles the man in the chair. You notice the return of the strange mask covering the upper part of his face. The sharp beak shape cuts through the air as he moves his head. 

“For someone so passionate about other people’s physiological responses, you fail to acknowledge your own. You’re anticipating something that’s not going to happen. Anticipatory fear rarely benefits anyone.” 

He moves his head away from you. You’re able to release the breath you’ve been holding.  

In front of the man in the wheelchair is a medical tray. It’s empty, although various surgical equipment surrounds it. When you squint your eyes, you can recognise a scalpel among them. 

You wonder if you could take it.

Dottore muses to himself, continuing to weave endless sentences that do not yet make sense. “Did you ever get to see the human brain? I find that preserved ones lack the sense of joy the living ones bring me. Unfortunately, something must be dead to be preserved… I find hardly any preserved being is worth more than a living one.”

Your eyes sneak up as you pass the tools and find Dottore inspecting you. A diplomatic smile is forced underneath his mask. You fail to obtain a weapon to defend yourself with.

As you approach the empty chair, Dottore walks up to the man in the wheelchair. By the time you sit down, he is playing with the scalpel you tried to take.

“It truly dulls the process. It lacks a sense of… efficiency. Why study a corpse when you can pick apart a living one?” A different light is cast upon him when he tilts his face down. In the shadow, his smile becomes sinister.

“What are you doing?”

Dottore holds the scalpel with his middle finger and thumb, letting his pointer finger rest upon the handle. He lifts it, admiring the glint that falls upon it. “You shouldn’t ask. I find that it spoils the surprise.” 

Finally, your fight or flight instinct kicks in and you try to stand up. 

Your legs bobble and your hand slams against the table trying to keep your balance. You fall back into the chair. The sweet scent has made you lightheaded with a tingling feeling in your limbs. It’s accompanied by a fast, irregular heartbeat—as well as the pounding in your ears. 

A chuckle escapes Dottore’s lips. “Already standing up? A doctor would have recommended you to rest. If you’re tired, you may return to bed, although, you’d miss the grand performance.”

He mocks you with his sweetest voice. Your poor coordination and confusion must make you look like a newborn deer trying to stand up on its feet. Pitiful.

For the first time since entering the room, you take a closer look at the man in the wheelchair. The male appears average in height and weight. He has no noticeable features and seems only a few years older than you. He has been silent the entire time, only ever muttering to himself. otherwise looking around helplessly. His body is covered in sweat, drenching his pale blue shirt with wet stains. 

A horizontal line paints his forehead. 

“Segment 495, say hello to Y/n.”

Segment 495's smile is droopy as he parrots Dottore’s words.

Dottore places a hand on the shoulder of the man. “Did you know that the Akademiya has a grand collection of preservations in the name of science?”

He retreats his hands and puts them folded onto his back. After taking a sharp inhale, he circles the man; stopping when he stands behind him.

Dottore continues,  “The Akademiya collects preservations received from donors. In most occurrences, the specimens are from average people, dulling the broad collection with nothing unique to study. Truthfully, it is unfortunate how such collection can collect nothing but dust.”

Your thoughts are uncontrolled. When you look over the set of tools, the scalpel is gone. Your stress increases due to the operation setting and the sweet scent in the air. 

What will Dottore gain from this? 

What’s today's lesson?

He inhales sharply through his nose, “A human can undergo a conscious brain surgery. You know how it works, I assume?”

You part your lips. Weakly, you shake your head.

“Excellent.”

Dottore reveals the knife from the hand on his back and he takes hold of the man in the wheelchair. With one arm, he snakes to the front and grabs his jaw. The other pushes the sharp edge of the scalpel along the line already there, easily sliding through and breaking the previously dried blood; reaching through the skull without complication.

Your sight blurs, and you helplessly watch the knife circle his head.

He’s going to exercise a conscious brain surgery.

With his precise and steady hand, Dottore can make a full circle before long. Then, he lays the scalpel down and grabs the hair on the man’s scalp, pulling until it parts, leaving the brain visible for you to witness.

You breathe out.

“Zandik—” 

“You see, the brain itself feels no pain, Y/n, if that concerns you” 

Dottore picks up his knife from the medical tray, pointing it towards the front of the brain. 

“For example, Segment 495 won't miss this little piece here, which is part of the prefrontal lobe.” 

“Wait.” You try to intervene, but you realise you have no leverage. “You don’t have to do this.”

Dottore makes a small cut, cutting through the meninges. Then, he grabs another tool, holding down the frontal lobe as the scalpel cuts through. “Sometimes, a subject can live without a part of their frontal lobe. However, there is a risk of losing one's expression of speech as well as a few means of movement and cognition.”

You watch the man’s expression fall when Dottore removes the part he had cut out. The mouth of the man falls open, and although he stays alive, something has undoubtedly died. 

Dottore lays the removed part of the frontal lobe on the empty medical tray. Then, he goes back. 

“Please, stop this.” You try to plead with him. 

Using whatever strengths you have left, you try to stand up. Unfortunately, you hardly move out of your chair. Whatever drug lingers in the air, it is stronger than your adrenaline and will.

Again, Dottore’s precise hands cut into the brain. The man makes a strained sound and drool begins to fall out of his mouth. 

Another piece is added to the medical tray, slowly forming a collection as Dottore empties the man’s head.

Under the influence of sedatives, you struggle to maintain your composure and senses—witnessing the horrifying spectacle that unfolds helplessly. 

You black out before the man breathes his final breath.

ㅤ

ㅤ

ㅤ

Segment 495 started to lose organ functions a few days ago. It’d eventually lead him to die without ever completing the experiences Dottore put him under.

It is unfortunate but Dottore still grants the dying man one last reward.

On the medical tray, Segment 495’s brain lies fully exposed. Each cognitive function is separated for you to behold and admire. In death, the stranger became preserved in your memory. 

· · ────── Ω ────── · ·

A gift. 

From Dottore to you.

©dottiro. Do not copy, repost, translate, feed to AI, or take heavy inspiration from my content. Thank you for reading ♡