#80strashbag
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In the end of the night, I can feel your warmth. (Kyle Spencer x Reader)
summary: zombies eat brains... not pussies. WRONG. they actually eat them really well. 2.9K words!
warnings: 18+ below the cut!! smut (female receiveing), heavy heavy cunnilingus, s*xual guiding/coaching, praise (male receiving), carnal instincts, unga bunga brain Frankenkyle because it’s a serious problem I have, uhhhhhhh.
tags: @darlingjimmy @petersevans @kaiju-superstar @redwoodghost @kaismanwich @elsamars @thewolveswithin @marylovesevanpeters @80strashbag @iluwmycats @kai-slut @kaissweetlamb @twinkiemaximoff @evanpetersfansblog @spill-the-t @eventually27 @stucktothetwo @kai-andersons-blog @kai-anderson-whore @evansb1tch @viharmonscorner @yesdevineruler @anonymous0316 @enchanting-evan @fuckedbykai @nova-kayne67
ao3 link here! Full link below the cut!! Thank you to @redwoodghost and @kaiju-superstar for yet AGAIN beta-reading and sending me to the clouds.
“Mmmph….”
Three days earlier.
After a series of life altering events, you’d finally thrown your hands up and run away from home. The destination? Miss Robichaux’s School for Gifted Young Women, located in the mysterious city of New Orleans. As you rode the bus, one backpack stuffed with clothes and jewellery clutched tightly to your chest like a child, vibrant images of vampires, witches and voodoo danced in your dreams.
You saw yourself as a plain Jane who had been a little too influenced by the occult at a young age. A typical girl who had grown up on Stevie Nicks and tarot cards, you had never considered yourself particularly remarkable, though you’d always had a knack for making things happen a little too easily. Teachers and parents had always described you as an influential young woman — a deceptive umbrella term that hardly scratched the surface. You weren’t writing persuasive essays or excelling in Speech and Debate, you were sticking your fingers into someone’s mind like playdoh and rewiring it to do exactly what you wanted.
It was that deceptive umbrella term that brought you to Louisiana to begin with; you’d felt unheard, unseen, and misunderstood. You were struggling and nobody had the capacity to unravel your problems.
Cordelia, who was easily one of the most beautiful women you’d ever seen, welcomed you into her office. The interview was brief but compassionate. She’d asked you to explain what brought you to her home, what you felt your “powers” were, and reached to touch the top of your hand when you struggled with that word. She lingered, staring deeply at your fingers. After a moment, she inhaled and spoke again.
“Nothing is silly here. You’re safe. Everything you’ve thought was make-believe or… or childish isn’t. The world runs on magic.”
Cordelia had called one of the other girls into her office and given you an encouraging nod. The girl, who couldn’t have been more than sixteen, had jet black hair, and large glasses. She looked deeply frightened and you almost felt bad when you made her crawl on the floor like a crab before standing up and clapping excitedly. It took very little effort for you, Cordelia noted and wrote something on a piece of paper in your file.
Whatever you’d done, you’d done it correctly. Shortly after that, a girl named Zoe showed you to your new room. She was sweet, kind — the sort of woman that you thought would listen to every side of every story before making any judgements. She used to be a student witch here, she explained as you two walked, but she'd risen in the ranks and become so busy with being the Council — something very important, a hierarchy of witches — that she didn’t have time for the things she used to focus on.
Zoe opened the tall door, letting you step in first. Well-lit by the large and ornately trimmed windows, the room was white, matching the scheme of the rest of the mansion. Sparsely decorated, there were the necessities in terms of furniture and nothing else. There were two beds at opposite sides of the room… and a blonde boy sat cross-legged on the one closest to the door. His expression was blank, but his brows were laced together, conveying some sort of unknown sadness.
“This is Kyle. He…” she trailed off, her voice sounding unsteady. “He died. Madison and I, we… we put him back together and brought him back.”
You snapped your head to face her, jaw hanging slack in disbelief. “Put him back together? Like Frankenstein?”
Zoe nodded, and reached out to stroke his fluffy blonde curls. While he remained stoic, you noticed the tiniest flinch in his cheek muscles. The way she looked at him… you crossed your arms over your chest uncomfortably. There was history here. “He’s not the same. He tries though.”
She straightened out her frown, visibly trying to move on from the memories.
“This used to be my room. But…” She dropped her hand to her side. He flinched more visibly. “It’s yours now.”
Zoe had told you that all Kyle needed was macaroni, kid’s shows on YouTube, and he wouldn’t bother you. For the first night, you conceded with those recommendations because his outbursts overwhelmed you.
On the second night, you woke up to the sound of rustling. Kyle sat upright in his bed, sheets draped over his lap, staring towards the window. You sat up in bed, pulling the sheets up to your chest. He turned to look at you and shrunk away from your gaze, ashamed. He quickly returned to a lying position, like a child who had gotten yelled at. The apprehension you possessed on the first night had morphed into wonderment. A reanimated boy, who despite being pieced together still had some semblance of sentience and emotion. It may have been cliche to analyze it through a Shelley-esque eye… but with sentience, came love. And with love, agony was sure to follow. You’d always been particularly enraptured with the idea of a monster needing love, trying desperately to understand it.
A line from Frankenstein came to mind as you watched him staring straight up at the ceiling, hoping you wouldn’t notice he wasn’t asleep. “I have a love in me the likes of which can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.”
So… what if you satisfied the first? Perhaps all he needed was some tenderness, some attentiveness.
“Kyle?”
No response. You swung your legs out from underneath the covers, planting your bare feet on the wooden floors. In only your nightgown, the chill of the air bit at your exposed limbs, prompting you to slip your arms into the lacy, green sleeves of your robe.
“Kyle? You wanna look at the moon?”
This time, he turned his head on the pillow to look at you. You began moving carefully towards him.
“You want to? The moon?” You asked again, making a circle shape with your hands and then unrolling them to point towards the window. He nodded, showing understanding. Clumsily, he threw the covers off him and got to his feet.
You took one step. He followed, ambling heavily behind you until you both stood close enough to the window to feel the chill that permeated the glass. He sighed heavily, the sound resonating in his broad chest. It was the first time you’d heard any sort of happy sound from him. His knuckles brushed against yours, but despite the quivering in your abdomen, you didn’t reach out to hold his hand. You wanted to, though. Very, very much.
On the third night, you woke up to the sounds.
“Mmmmmph! Mmm…arrr…. Mmmm…. ow.”
You rubbed your eyes, rousing yourself. Instead of being in his own bed, like he usually was, Kyle sat at the foot of yours, his legs pulled to his chest. “What? What’s wrong?”
He grunted again, scooting closer to you on the bed. Although the room was dark, the small night light in the corner illuminated just enough of his face to show the pained expression, the stress in his dark eyes.
“Kyle? What’s the matter? Try…” You whispered. “Are you hurt?”
He nodded. Then shook his head. “Hmmmph… I’m……”
“You’re what? What is it?”
He struggled to speak, but what did come out sounded distinctly like your own name.
Kyle’s head dropped heavily to his chest, shamefully looking down at his erection as it tented his boxers. He lifted his eyes, staring at you from underneath his heavy brow and fluffy locks. Both hands clenched into fists, he pressed down into his groin, moaning.
Oh…. Oh fuck, you thought. Oh my fucking god, he’s got a boner.
“It’s okay,” you reassured. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of… it’s normal. O-kay.”
Poor thing. He doesn’t know what to do…. He’s asking for help. He looked into your eyes with the most soulful, desperate pleading you’d ever seen. No man, even more together than him, had ever asked you for help like this. There was something underneath, another stain on his heart. You could feel it when your eyes locked for a second too long — but that wasn’t important. It didn’t change what you were about to do.
You fingered the ruched elastic of his boxers, scooping it towards you. The taut skin of his stomach was warm, and the heat increased as you neared the bush of hair. Kyle groaned and cloddishly bucked his hips to force your hand farther down. The searing hot tip slipped against the back of your hand, leaving a streak of precum on your skin.
“P……l…eaaasse…..” His chest was heaving up and down, forcing excited little breaths out of his open mouth.
You swallowed the lump in your throat and gripped his cock gently. It twitched against your hand and you felt another hot, viscid ribbon coat your knuckles. Oh fuck. He jerked his hips again as you began stroking, smearing his wetness along the shaft. He slackened the muscles in his neck, letting his head fall onto your shoulder.
“Good? Does that feel better?”
His head moved on you, up and down, so you assumed it did. You decided to test it by going a little faster, and squeezing his cock a little harder. Instead of the guttural, almost pained groans he’d given you before, the most pathetic little whimper left his throat. You lifted your gaze to the ceiling, rolling your eyes back. He was putty in your grip, begging for you with every muscle in his body. And that… drove you insane.
Carefully, quietly… you reached to your legs, gathering the edge of your nightgown into your palm, pulling it up your thigh until you had enough room to reach your own arousal. Wasting no time, you circled your clit slowly, slipping a finger inside between rotations.
“AAAAAGUHHH!”
You clapped your hand over Kyle’s mouth, eyes widening like saucers in the dark. You whispered louder than you ever had in your entire life. “Shhh! Kyle! Shhh!” He breathed hard out his nose. “I can’t help you if you’re loud… they’ll hear you.”
Underneath your fingers, Kyle’s plush lips parted just enough for you to notice. You froze. He looked down as far as his ocular anatomy allowed and his pupils dilated, the blackness consuming the already deep brown. His tongue swept across the underside of your fingers before forcing itself between them. He gripped your hand tightly at the wrist and yanked it down in a startling display of his inhuman strength.
“Wuh…. Want.”
You jerked your head back, confused. “What?”
He brought your hand back up, and like a child claiming that a toy was his, Kyle licked your pointer and index finger from the base to the tip of them. He swallowed.
“Waant….”
Holy shit. You realised. You realised what it was he wanted…. The hand you’d used to cover his mouth was that hand that you’d previously been fingering yourself with, the fingers that were coated in your own wetness. He wanted… that.
Nervously, you pulled your hand from his boxers, the elastic snapping against his tummy. You nodded once and inhaled a deep breath through your nose, a feeble attempt at pacifying the bundle of live wires you called your nerves. Kyle’s eyes never left yours, watching you intently as you planted your hands on either side of your body as leverage to push yourself back towards the head of the bed. You laid back on the pillow, knees touching and obscuring Kyle.
When you opened them, your breath rushed out from your lungs. He was so pretty, the way the moonlight illuminated his curls like an angel’s halo, outlining his broad form. His plaid shirt hung open, teasing at the body beneath. And then, of course, there was the erection. The fabric of his boxers were pulled tight.
You tilted your head down, pressing your chin against your chest. Your eyes were misty, doe-like, and you almost stuck your fingers in his mind to tell him to come to you. But he did it on his own accord and your heart gave an adoring flutter. Coming forward onto his hands, Kyle crawled on the bed to you, and you welcomed him in between your thighs. He lowered himself down onto his stomach.
“Good boy,” you whispered. “You’re so good, Kyle…”
Kyle opened his mouth on your pussy, lapping at it hungrily. The smoothness of his teeth grazed your clit, and the heat of your arousal was unimaginable, burning deep within your core. You’d been eaten out, but not eaten out. Not like this. Zombies ate brains, not pussies.
And yet… you were being devoured within an inch of your life. Every clench brought out more cum, and Kyle was there to drink it up, flicking his tongue from your entrance to your clit repeatedly, until your vision went blurry with twinkling stars. Every time his tongue returned to its starting position, he always lingered and sometimes slipped in, delving into something he wanted more of. He was tasting you over and over again. Your mouth opened, at first giving nothing but the sound of your breath. His lips closed around your clit, his tongue driving up into your entrance, and a high pitched whine clawed its way out of your throat.
And just like that, the pleasure was gone. Kyle pulled away, panicked.
“Bad?!”
You shook your head quickly, panting. “No, no…. Good. Very good, Kyle.”
His worried expression softened slightly, but he still looked unsure and scared to keep going. The sound you’d made… all he knew told him it was that he’d done something wrong and he’d hurt you.
“B….buh….. bad…… sssssound…..”
“Nonononono. Very… very good. I made that sound because it feels good. You’re doing a good job.”
He huffed out a breath, the warmth of it washing over you. You writhed, the backs of your thighs rubbing against his bare shoulders. Bent at the elbows, Kyle wrapped his forearms around your legs, wide hands twitching ever so slightly as they caressed you. There was something overwhelmingly erotic in the way he fearfully looked up at you from between your legs. You drew your bottom lip in, biting down as hard as you could to stifle the moan that threatened.
“Please,” you whined. “You’re doing so good, Kyle. It feels so good. You like it, right?”
He nodded, dropping his gaze to look at your cunt, a puddle forming on sheets below. His jaw hung slack as he went back in, his lips enveloping you fully. His tongue was hot and you were sensitive, writhing in his grip. You weren’t aware that you were writhing away from him until his fingers came to life, digging deep into the soft flesh of your thighs.
You arched your back as you came on his tongue, taking fistfuls of the sheets and tightening until you felt the fibres squeak against each other. Kyle growled into your cunt, pulling you closer into him. His tongue flattening against you, feeling the pulsating clenches as they happened.
Kyle straightened up to his knees, stiffly pulling his boxers down over the curve of his ass. His stiff cock sprung free, the swollen head, red and leaking. He seemed to know what he wanted to do, but didn’t know where to start. You scooted down, pressing your legs further open. Kyle shuffled forward on the bed, the springs creaking underneath you.
“It’s okay, Kyle… it’s okay.” Keeping your eyes on him, you took hold of his cock again and gently guided it towards your wet slit. “I’ll make you feel better.”
He allowed himself to be guided, following your direction. His squishy tip slipped in, compressed by your tight walls. The sound that Kyle made — something between a choking breath and a groan — was the only warning you got that a switch had flipped. He knew exactly what to do.
Kyle sunk his length into you, taking only a moment to revel in the feeling of your warm, wet insides. He quickly found his rhythm, bucking in and out with steady intention as he watched you with half-lidded eyes, mouth hanging slack. His pelvis slapped against yours, knocking against your clit each time your bodies met. The visual drove you insane, sending streaks of hot arousal right to your core.
“Gggoooooodddd….” He groaned. “G-good.”
He picked up speed, and you desperately tried to maintain coherency, nodding. Your nails dug into his back, holding on as tight as you could. “Guh-HOHm- my god. Good, yes. G-good, baby.”
Kyle’s large hands snaked their way to your shoulders, encasing them in a steely grip. He pulled himself into you, harder and harder until you felt an unfamiliar ache in your insides, where he could go no farther. You came for a second time with a high-pitched whimper and Kyle kept his pace, grunting. Your wetness splashed against your thighs as he thrust into you, and when you lifted your hips up slightly, Kyle’s fingers curled in, clamping down on your shoulders with a crushing strength. You held back your cries of pain, grinding your hips against his as he pumped into you. Just hold on… let him finish….
Finally, he released his hold on you, collapsing onto your chest with a heavy breath. Once the vigorous movement had subsided, your sweat-soaked bodies were no longer immune to the lithe, chilly fingers of temperature. Still, you were warm underneath him.
So, so warm.
Kyle fell asleep with his cock inside you. And for the first time in three nights, he didn’t wake up once.
#Kyle Spencer#Kyle Spencer x reader#kyle spencer x y/n#AHS Coven#Kyle Spencer imagine#American Horror Story#Frankenkyle#myfics#ahs smut#american horror story coven#frankenkyle x reader#kyle spencer smut#kyle spencer x you#AHS fanfiction#Kyle Spencer x yn
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packing up to go
pairing: steve harrington x fem byers!reader
summary: the moving boxes are being filled and tears are being shed.
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October 7, 1985
She kept saying, “Fresh starts will be good for everyone” “This is good for us.” Any variation that came to mind, Joyce Byers said it aloud to make everyone feel better. It never worked though, all four of you, plus your friends hated the idea of your family moving to the other side of the country.
California was thousands of miles away from everything you grew up loving and hating. Everyone was now a phone call, letter, or five-hour plane ride away. It sucked. So you sulked and held back tears as you packed the last of your room into cardboard boxes.
“I’ll miss you, Mr. Teddy. Nice and soft.” Steve’s voice bounced off your bare walls while hugging a stuffed animal from your childhood.
You sighed dramatically, “Guess that means you’ll mourn his loss more than mine. I get it, bears before girls.” Tapping off your box of clothes.
“Well, me and Mr. Teddy have a history. You wouldn’t understand.” Lovingly petting the plushies head.
You scoffed, “What history? You’ve ‘met’ him two years ago. My grandma gave me him for Hanukkah. When I was four.”
You walked over to Steve, who stared into the doll's cold black eyes, and you felt a pang of jealousy towards the doll. You can leave the bear with Steve and he’ll get to hug it to sleep every night, it’s cotton-filled ears won’t short-circuit whenever Steve says I love you. A stuffed bear will be able to stay with Steve when you can’t and it makes you sad.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Steve set Mr. Teddy atop your box so his hands could reach out to cup your cheeks. You didn’t realize you had tears falling until Steve was getting blurry and he was knuckling away the waterdrops.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to be separated from you.” A blubbering mess as you wrapped your arms tight around Steve's middle, trying to burrow into his yellow sweater.
“It's gonna be okay, baby. We’ll still talk on the phone and I’ll start sending letters and pictures so you aren’t missing out. And I’m gonna save money so I can visit you during the holidays.”
You sniffled your tears as Steve pressed a deep lingering kiss to your hairline. “I love you too much to lose you.
So you're stuck with me one way or another.” And he squeezed you tighter.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
-
taglist: heartyhope / @preciousbabypeter / @dessxoxsworld / piper3113 / @animiacorn / @burn1ngw00d / @drxwstxrkxy / @m-rae23 / @noisyeggsmoneystatesman / yournan69 / @thats-s0-ravenn / @ameliabs-world / @mayonesavegana / @gracella0709 / @gengen64 / @alecmores / choclate32 / @stvrdustalexx / @redheadedfangirl / @agustdeeyaa / @yappydoo / @liberhoe / hehehehannahthings / @ladybug0095 / @sweeter-innocence-fics / j-6o / @voteforevilthoughts s / @harrysflowercrownrry / @ilovereadingfanfics / @sorrow-has-a-place-here / @80strashbag / @sunsumonner / sweet1peach / @cierrajhill / we-out- here-simping / nix-rose-a / @x-theolivia / @stylesyourmine / @starkeylover / @ihatepeanutss / @yeehawbrothers / @parkershoco / @scorpiolystoned /
#the byers harrington story#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fic
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movie night - steve harrington
↳ requested by @001swhore - BORROWING STEVE'S PURPLE YELLOW SWEATER OMG idk this isnt like an actual fic concept but ig just a blurb ab reader stealing steve's clothes <333
↳ summary - what ensues when steve gives reader a key to his place
↳ a/n - tysm for the request my love!! i’ve never written for steve before so i really hope you like this. please feel free to send in more requests for steve harrington i really enjoyed writing for him :)
↳ content warnings - none. NO SPOILERS FOR SEASON FOUR
↳ word count - 1.7k
↳ just a reminder that reblogs are seriously appreciated as it helps my work get seen by more people! <3
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@bucky-j-barnes @amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines @80strashbag @ilikefruitgummies @d22malfoys @ninuffi @thosedamnnewsies @eldriidd @murd3rrhouse @icarus-star @lovin-aurelia @demigirl-with-problems @alexxavicry @simplymurdock @sydnee-writes @savagejane1 @whitemengirl join my tag list
Movie night at Steve’s house either went two ways. If Robin was there, all three of them would squish on the same couch together (despite Steve’s huge living room), with a bowl of popcorn sat in Y/N’s lap as she was usually in the middle. They would talk and laugh throughout the whole movie, and would have a great time. If Robin wasn’t there, Y/N would be practically asleep on Steve’s shoulder by the end of the movie.
When Robin joined them, she spent the time laughing with her friend and enjoying the time with both of them, and whilst she did lean against Steve throughout the movie, she wasn’t entirely focused on him. But when they were alone she couldn’t get close enough to him. Most of the time his arm would be tucked around her back so she could completely wedge her shoulder underneath his armpit, snuggled into his side. All she could feel was his warmth against her skin and all she could smell was his cologne, and that was enough to have her dozing off on his shoulder by the time that the movie was over. Steve’s parents were never home so usually he would wake her briefly so they could go to lay down in his bed, but she would sleep happily for the rest of the night. They didn’t watch movies in the day anymore for that reason.
Dustin would join them sometimes, and by that she meant he would just drop in unannounced halfway through the movie after he’d spent the day with his friends. Sometimes he squished in between Steve and Y/N on the sofa, and sometimes she’d get woken up by Dustin excitedly rambling to Steve about something, whilst the latter tried to shut him up because Y/N was asleep against his side.
She probably spent even more time at Steve’s house as winter drew closer and closer, the chilly October air rounding her into his house sooner than usual like a dog rounded sheep.
He had given her a key to his house in late September, when he noticed her arriving earlier and earlier to Family Video to meet him from work most nights of the week. She didn’t mind waiting; she spoke to Steve and Robin, and even helped with anything that needed doing something just to lighten the load on the others a little. She knew he didn’t like her waiting, though. He didn’t want her to get bored waiting for them.
“Hey,” It was an hour until he finished on the first Friday of October, and she had turned up with a smile, despite the rain that drenched her head to toe. Steve had come around the counter to greet her, and pressed a kiss to her temple before he gently brought her aside. “I’ve got something for you. Close your eyes and hold your hand out.”
Y/N playfully rolled her eyes though did as she was told, her eyelids fluttering shut as her hand opened palm-up. Steve lifted her hand to press a soft kiss to her fingers which made her giggle, before he dropped something small into her palm. When he told her that she could open her eyes, the fluorescents reflected against a key in her hand.
She stared at it for a moment, before she looked up at her boyfriend with a confused expression. “Thanks?”
Steve chuckled as he fondly shook his head. “It’s a key. They’re used to open doors, sometimes cabinets,” He teased, and she huffed as her arm knocked against his gently. “It’s a key for my house.”
She looked up at him then, her eyes softening as her lips parted in surprise. “Steve…”
“My parents are never home and now that it’s getting colder I don’t want you waiting for me here. You can just wait at mine and get comfy.” He shrugged, like it was nothing. Like giving her a key to his house was nothing.
Steve seemed surprised when she practically flung herself at him in a hug, and pressed a kiss to her head when he held her closer with an arm around her wait. She mumbled a thanks into his neck, and closed her eyes as he held her closer, both of them momentarily ignoring Robin as she complained that Steve wasn’t helping her.
She used his key most times they were planning to spend the evening together. She still came to meet him sometimes, though; when his parents were actually home or if she’d just had a bad day and needed to see him sooner. But every time she did use the key, she smiled fondly to herself as she used it to unlock his front door, sweetened by the memory of him giving it together.
It was storming on the last Tuesday of November. Y/N didn’t mind storms, but the rain that had drenched her was freezing, and by the time she had gotten into Steve’s house she was shaking with the cold. It would only be half an hour until Steve got home, she told herself. She could wait that long. Barely.
She had a drawer of things in his bedroom, and Steve had no problem with washing her clothes with his, so the first thing she did was go straight up to his bedroom and peeled off the soaked clothes from her skin, and pulled on her pyjamas once her wet clothes were in his washing basket. Her pyjama trousers were thick, and probably would have warmed her up in no time on a normal day, but she was still trembling from the cold as she walked around Steve’s room, putting some of his things away for him. She was debating just getting into his bed to warm up when her fingers clasped around a yellow jumper that hung off of his bed frame. He had been wearing it the day before; he knew it was one of her favourites on him. Without thinking she pulled the soft jumper over her head, sighing as she pushed her arms through the too-long sleeves. It still smelled like his musky cologne, and she took a deep breath through her nose as she pressed it into the collar. The smell was calming, and maybe it was that or the warmth of the jumper that slowly stopped her trembling.
By the time Steve was home, she was curled up on his sofa with a book in her hand just to distract her until he was back. He was soaked too, but his raincoat kept most of him from getting too wet.
“Hey sweetheart,” Steve dumped his bag onto the nearest surface before he leaned over the back of the sofa to kiss the top of her head. “Good day?”
She hummed, a smile across her lips as she tilted her head to look up at Steve. He halted her answer by pressing a kiss to her lips, and she giggled quietly as he pulled away. “Yeah. You?”
“Busy.” Steve pulled a face and kissed her again, before he started rambling about his shift as he hung up his coat and grabbed the movie from his bag that he had brought for them to watch, putting it into the cassette player before he joined her on the couch.
“What’re we watching?” Y/N asked as she tucked herself into his side, glancing at the movie trailers on the screen before she looked up at her boyfriend.
“I’ll be watching The Goonies, but you’ll probably be watching the inside of your eyelids,” Steve teased, and she fondly rolled her eyes. His hand snuck around her waist to the bottom of the jumper, where she expected him to slip his hand under to rest against her bare waist like usual, but instead he glanced down at her and poked her where she was ticklish, eliciting a quiet giggle. “Are you stealing from me now?”
“No,” She laughed, and shuffled even closer to him when his warm palm finally met her bare side. “I was cold when I got here and it was on the end of your bed…” She trailed off, pink blooming in the apples of her cheeks.
She had worn his clothes countless times, but only after Steve had offered. She had never taken anything without asking, and for a moment she was worried that he wasn’t okay with it. But Steve swallowed the worry with a soft kiss, and gently rubbed her waist with his thumb as he pulled back to look at her.
“It suits you better,” He told her with a shrug, doing nothing to help her flushed cheeks. “But, y’know, I think basically anything would suit you better. ‘Cause you’re just so pretty, like crazy pretty, and-“
She cut off his rambled compliments with a kiss, her face blazing, and he laughed into her mouth as he held onto her tighter. “Thanks, but shh.” She mumbled after a moment, and Steve laughed louder as he kissed her cheek.
“Sorry, baby,” His cheek rested against the top of her head as she got settled against his shoulder. “I feel so bad that I was complimenting my girlfriend. Really, what am I going to do?”
“Shut up.” She mumbled, and he laughed again as the film finally started.
Steve was right, she would have probably been asleep within an hour. The sensation of his thumb running along her bare skin was enough to make her eyelids flutter, and his jumper was so cozy that she could just curl up and sleep for hours on end. As her eyelids struggled to stay open about thirty minutes into the movie, she knew that once the tape finished he would gently take her up to his bed, and she would sleep happily beside him the whole night. His warmth pushed against her like gentle waves, and combined with the occasional kiss to her temple, it was almost like he was trying to get her to sleep.
A soft smile was on her lips as she allowed her eyes to shut, relaxed and happy in his arms.
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington imagines#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington x reader fluff#steve harrington fic#steve harrington oneshot#stranger things#stranger things imagine
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Broken (BenderxFem!Reader)
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Word Count: 6.5k (ish)
Synopsis: Bender meets a Nouveau Riche girl at a party and is instantly smitten. He thought he had learned his lesson with Claire, that two classes clash, but he hopes it will be different with reader, as she seems as broken and lonely as him. Songfic for Broken by Lovelytheband.
CW: Underage drinking/drugs; ‘psycho’ and ‘freak’ used in the pejorative sense; rich/preppy kids being jerks; references to familial abuse and fights; angst (feelings of being undeserving, break ups, purposeful verbal harm); happy-ish ending (but it feels somewhat unresolved to me?); 2nd and 3rd person POV shifts.
Shout out to @80strashbag for making me want to finally finish this fic.
They agreed that they could 'still be friends,' and Bender would be damned if he caved first. So, he put on an unaffected face as he entered the party Claire invited him to. He shoved down his reminiscent feelings of rejection from Claire regarding their break up, the embarrassment for still caring about it even though it was a month ago, and his nervousness at showing up at a place he truly did not belong. Claire apparently knew some rich kid who was living in his parents' guesthouse so he could pretend to be independent while still being technically under their roof. The security that the opulent had so that they could believe they had survival skills made him chuckle to himself; no way this kid ever spent a night on the street. John had been alone and responsible for himself since these kids were cutting their teeth on silver spoons and now they wanted to pretend to be like him. Being on your own isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
As he entered, no one seemed to pay him any mind, and for that he was grateful. He looked as displaced as he felt, but the booze already seemed to be flowing (and at a party like this, he expected that there would be much stronger drugs than alcohol being exchanged) and he was of no consequence. He spotted Claire, some new bozo with his arm around her waist, showing her off as an accessory. Might as well go say hi; the sooner he got it over with, the sooner he could leave. Although, as he looked around, he thought it might not be so bad. In addition to libations, there were a lot of pretty women around, presumably with parents to piss off the way he had done with the Standishes. He smirked, relishing the thought.
So, he made nice and clung to Claire and, ugh….Kevin, as he didn't know anyone else. Luckily, a few shots down the hatch allowed him to be more amicable to the latter and he started loosening up a bit, maybe even enjoying himself despite Claire's ramblings about how the place was decorated so much like a New York apartment and isn't that great? But the drinks caught up to him and he unceremoniously excused himself with a, "gotta take a piss." Claire rolled her eyes and waved him off in disgust, but at least he got a laugh from Kevin. As he sought to join the lengthy queue, his gaze landed on the most gorgeous, brilliant creature he had ever laid eyes on.
I met you late night, at a party
Some trust fund baby's 'Brooklyn loft'
He sidled up behind her, and for the first time in his life, smooth-talking John Bender was tongue-tied. Even inebriated or stoned off his ass, he was used to being clever. Witty. He'd built up enough immunity to substances to still maintain control of his faculties, generally. But maybe it wasn't just the liquor that was affecting him. He drank in her beautiful features faster than the several shots of vodka he consumed prior. Shermer High wasn't that big, but he was sure he had never seen her before. Then again, maybe she went to some prep school that cost her parents more money than he'd see in a year; it was that type of party. His eyes raked over the curves of her body, the outfit perfectly and delicately draped over her frame to draw attention to the right places, although he was unconvinced that there was any feature of hers that wasn't in contention for 'best.' She was alone, unaccompanied in this line the same as he was, just looking forward. But she must have sensed his fixed stare, or maybe he was breathing too heavily or she really could hear his racing heartbeat as the organ thrummed against his rib cage (it was audible to him at least). And she looked over her shoulder, making eye contact with him. His eyes grew wide, afraid he had been caught. Bender had been caught engaging in so many infractions that he thought he was immune to feeling guilt over them anymore, but he was susceptible to that gaze. She surprised him with a kind, easy smile and turned to face him more. "Hi," she said softly, sweetly, and he was hooked.
"Hey," he replied back. He hoped it came off aloof enough to be cool, but not so much that it was dismissive. He craved her engagement, so he gestured to the line, "sucks, huh? You'd think it was a line at Disneyland."
She tilted her head, trying to read him before responding, "Definitely. An E-ticket ride, even." He couldn't help but laugh, even though it was a stupid and kind of outdated joke, but it seemed truly original to him in that moment and he just wanted her to say more, even if she made him flustered.
By the bathroom, you said, "Let's talk"
But my confidence is wearing off
Their conversation flowed easier and more plentiful than the setup of kegs at the party as they shuffled forward in the line. He almost forgot why they were there and wanted to linger as she gestured to the open bathroom door, finally up for her turn. "Well, I should probably…" she trailed off, indicating why they had come here in the first place.
"No, yeah, definitely. Have at it." He said, and even though she chuckled, he felt like an idiot as she closed the door. He rubbed a hand over his face. Who encourages a hot girl to use the bathroom, he told himself in frustration. When she exited, he awkwardly went in, hoping he'd spot her around later. However, she was standing outside the door, on the opposite wall of the hallway, waiting for him when he departed the small room.
"I hope it's not too weird but… I don't really know anybody here anymore. Can I stick with you?" He contained his excitement enough to remain cool, keep up the facade as usual.
"Ok, sure." He took her along and introduced her to Claire and 'the boy toy,' as he nicknamed him in only a pitch she could hear, close to her ear and in as neat a whisper as he could get in the loud environment. However, they didn't stick around. Bender wanted, no, needed to be the center of attention, to get to really know her, so they branched off and wandered outside so that they could exist as just the two of them.
Well, these aren't my people, these aren't my friends
"I don't know, it's not really my scene." Bender gestured vaguely at the building, "I don't think I've ever been to a place with a 'guesthouse' before,” he chuckled, trying to make the dig seem light.
"Honestly? Me either. This isn't my scene, I mean. I don't really like parties…or people." She laughed and the sound was addicting. "I'm actually really glad you suggested coming out here. It's less…overwhelming."
"So then, what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" He asked, waggling his eyebrows, eliciting another laugh. I could get used to that, he thought, even though truthfully he wondered how he ever lived without it.
"Well, long story short, my dad recently played the stock market well and wanted to make a lifestyle change with his good fortune."
"Ah, so you're one of those." Bender said before he had a chance to filter the thought. Of course, he had a deep-seated prejudice against the richies, but he suspected she had to be one initially, just from her being here. Although perhaps part of him hoped she was in a similar situation to him, after all, he was here and he was dirt-poor.
Luckily, she didn't take it in offense, "I guess so," she smiled. "But as much as my dad wants it, I don't know, I feel like things haven't really changed. That I haven't changed. But that's absurd. Of course they have; look at what I'm wearing!" She laughed and Bender acted as though he hadn't already converted every stitch of her outfit to memory and pretended to examine it for the first time. "But it's not me, not really. He made me enroll in a new school and some of the girls have been nice, more or less. And that's why I'm here. I came with a girl named Stacy. I think she's friends of a friend with whoever lives here, but… she bailed right after I came out of the bathroom. Some newer and better party, I guess. Or she met someone, I don't really know."
"So, why did you stay? Why not just leave with her and go to the 'newer and better party'?" He asked.
"Well, like I said, not really my scene. A bigger party?" She scoffed, "no thank you." She looked down and continued quietly, as if afraid to make eye contact or too much sound, and Bender leaned forward, intent to hear the secret, "and, truthfully, I wanted to keep talking to you." That delivered a blow right to his heart, pow, full on knockout.
Bender was never good with emotions, or with being defeated, so he fell quiet for a moment, but then admitted, "I'm glad you stayed." She seemed to drop tension in her body, as if she were relieved. He hadn't expected either of their admissions to have much weight to them, but they opened a door and he let his guard down quickly. Even though John had a tendency to overshare when he was angry or feeling particularly theatrical, an intimate setting like this would usually make him clam up. He didn't usually describe his life to strangers, despite what the Breakfast Club might think. But here, under the inky sky dotted with bright white stars, he divulged himself. Y/N didn't feel like a stranger, though. And with each reveal, he didn't feel judgment, but rather, acceptance.
She hesitated a moment before cupping his face in both of her hands and confessing that she felt the same, that there was already a bond and a trust there that neither one could explain.
She grabbed my face and that's when she said,
"I like that you're broken, broken like me
Maybe that makes me a fool
I like that you're lonely, lonely like me
I could be lonely with you"
They stayed there far too long, and yet it would never be enough. Bender felt like he could spend an eternity with her, listening to her stories and uncovering her past. However, she had some sort of curfew to meet. It seemed that, unlike his parents, hers actually gave a shit. He extended the trust and allowed her to give him a ride to his house. Maybe he wanted to prove to himself that this was real…or that it wasn't. Either way, seeing the crap-shack hellhole that he lived in would be a test. She didn't run for the hills or even comment on it. Instead, she leaned over the console to kiss him goodnight. It ignited his lips in a way that he questioned why he had wasted so much time with any other girl before. The simple answer was that he didn't know what he was missing, that only because he did not know of her existence did he not fill this empty ache sooner.
After that night, he couldn’t let her go. Not that he would ever want to, but he was sure he was purely, physically incapable of doing so. He needed her presence the same way he needed to breathe; she gave him inspiration, life. He didn’t have the funds to take her out on proper dates or get her the things he felt she deserved, so he did the next best thing and gave himself to her, wholly and openly…something he had never gifted to another person before. She made the guard drop so easily and she, in kind, opened up to him. She spoke to him about family members and friends she’d lost. How her life had been uprooted by her father’s desires to play pretend and how she still felt like she didn’t fit in. She was completely lost in this new world and John felt like a tether to the old one.
“I feel like some sort of imposter, you know? I never have any idea what any of them are talking about. I’m not in the loop for the hottest trends and they’re always, like, condescending about it.”
“Those bitches,” Bender scoffed and she laughed melodically, a sound that always put him at ease.
“I don’t know if they even realize they’re doing it, or if it’s just so ingrained in their personalities at this point. I can’t imagine what it’s like being brought up that way. I’m sure you get that,” she looked to him for reassurance and he nodded, “I must seem like an alien to them. A real freak.” She let out a lamentable sigh and John shot right up, bracing her chin and along the expanse of her neck, gently coaxing her to look at him.
“No one could ever think that about you. So you don’t know what the in band is or if mini-skirts are going to still be fashionable in the fall,” he snorted dismissively at the thought, “So what? You’re smarter than they are, you have a kind heart, you know what actual hardship is…and you’re more beautiful than any of them could ever hope to be.” He leaned in, murmuring the last of these words, letting his lips brush against hers before he applied pressure to fully kiss her. “They’re probably just jealous. And if they’re not, they should be.” She giggled and returned his kiss, stretching her fingers over his shoulder and tugging on the leather jacket she found there, twisting it into her clutch and pulling him closer. He pulled back and looked deeply into her eyes.
There's something tragic, but almost pure
Think I could love you, but I'm not sure
Hers flicked back and forth between his warm rustic irises, trying to read his thoughts and verify his sincerity. She hadn’t known John long, but she believed she really knew him. He had been upfront about his typical nature, and Claire had confirmed that for her at one time. She told Y/N of how she met Bender and how he had made her cry and that they would fight. There was always passion between Bender and Claire in their relationship but it depended on the day, or rather the minute, whether it manifested positively or negatively. Looking at him now, hearing his words of adoration and never a slight in her direction, Y/N had trouble believing that that was true.
It was clear that John was hurting. He had a lot bottled up inside and never knew how to express it appropriately. The symbols of previous fights stayed behind, their scars running deep. Some were literal: cuts and bruises that she watched heal over time. Some were from others at school or people he encountered in the streets, but most were from home. The marks to his soul, however, were evident in his speech and his desperation to change his situation…but also in the way he talked to and about her. The dark notes were there when he spoke of school, of some man named Vernon who really had it out for him, and how he felt trapped and as though he’d never amount to more. However, there were rays of light, and she could see them now, there in those deep brown pools staring softly back at her. He wanted to do better, to be better for her. And, around her, he truly felt he was. Everything in her life had shifted, but looking into John’s eyes, she felt at home.
There's something wholesome, there's something sweet
Tucked in your eyes that I'd love to meet
Another party. At Claire’s insistence. And somehow, she roped both of you into it. This time, she invited the whole lot of you to a party you mentioned; she didn’t even know the hosts.
“This girl, Theresa, she’s in my science class and she asked me to come to her birthday party but---” You started.
“Oh my God, we have to go.” Claire declared instantly, cutting you off.
“What?” You asked, surprised.
“You didn’t even let her finish,” John scoffed.
“C’mon, Y/N, this is the perfect opportunity to mix your circles. We could get to know them and they could get to know us. You could debut your relationship with John.” She said, giving a little wiggle of her shoulders to entice you into joining her excitement. Instead, you just grimaced at the idea of interacting with a bunch of people, particularly ones you hardly knew from school.
“Oh yeah, I’m sure that will be the talk of the town. I’m the number one debutante around here, after all.” John snorted at Claire, but she waved him off.
“I’m sure it’ll be fun! You never know what can or will happen. I mean, you two found each other at a party, so why not?”
“I don’t know, Claire. I think she was just asking to be nice because I was in earshot--”
“Or, more likely, to gobble up more presents,” Bender interjected.
“But I don’t really know her or if we’d get along.”
“That’s why you go! To see if they’re someone to hang out with! Come on, please? I’m dying socially. I feel like I haven’t been out in forever.” Claire whined and you instantly felt guilty for keeping your circle small and for being a homebody.
“Jesus, Claire, really?” John began, but you overlapped him.
“Okay,” you replied, defeated and deflated. Claire squealed in delight that you had agreed and John rolled his eyes.
Bender tried; he really did. He even asked Claire for fashion advice from the best pieces in his closet. He arrived at the party, hand-in-hand with you. You thought he looked handsome as ever, and could tell that he’d put in extra effort, ‘dressed-to-impress.’ Claire blended in perfectly, as did Kevin. Both of them were used to the theme of elite and knew the right style to portray themselves in. Claire had practically dressed you and even leant you complementary pieces of jewelry so that you could play the part as well. However, that just made Bender look and feel more out of place. Amongst the four of you, he definitely stood out and he could feel people’s cold, hard stares as your group walked past.
Truthfully, you wanted to be able to get this over with as soon as possible, so you sought out the birthday-host quickly. “There she is! Let’s go say hi, drop off the gift…”
“What’s the rush?” Claire asked, as if your hesitation to come tonight wasn’t already obvious.
“I uh…just thought it would be rude not to let her know we came. And it’s awkward to carry around a gift bag all night,” you lied.
“I’m sure there’s a table set up somewhere to receive gifts,” Claire said.
“Oh, of course there is,” John said mockingly, “just like a bar mitzvah.”
“We should still make an appearance, right? I mean, make ourselves known?” You asked, unsteadily.
“Yeah, yeah! That’s a good idea,” Kevin said, trying to be supportive. You weaved your way through the crowd and stood by until there was an appropriate moment in between well-wishes.
“Hi, Theresa! Happy birthday!” You said, standing with one hand wound tightly in John’s, squeezing it for some kind of reassurance and grounding, the other hand thrusting a gift bag in Theresa’s direction. She chuckled haughtily in response.
“Why, thank you. Who are…all these people?” She said in a passive-aggressive tone, and you realized that people brought a plus-one at most, generally. Claire quickly introduced herself, showing that she fit in and should be welcome in this world, although her attire had already communicated that. She also introduced Kevin, who shook hands and earned a warm smile for his cleancut handsomeness. Then her eyes shifted to John. “And who, pray tell, is this?” She asked, noticing you clutching onto him.
“Uh, hello. I’m John. Bender.” He said, almost stilted in his tone. He wanted to make a good impression for your sake, but he wasn’t sure how. He was out of place here.
“My boyfriend,” you added and Theresa giggled.
“I see. Well, nice to meet you all,” she replied in an insincere tone. It was about as fake as everything else in your new lifestyle. “I should be going, though. Plenty of people to see. I’m so glad you could make it, Y/N.” She flashed a fraudulent smile, perfect and pearly, before she left.
“Can we go now?” You whined to Claire, but she shook her head and pushed your shoulder, leading you deeper into the house.
“There’s gotta be something to drink,” Kevin said.
“And something to dance to. Come on!” Claire urged.
You tried to ignore the glances, the gapes, the guffaws. You tried to convince yourself that you were imagining it, that your anxiety was getting the best of you; you were seeing things just because you didn’t want to be here. It was more difficult to pretend when someone approached your group.
“Hey, I can’t get this bottle open.” He shouted over the din.
“I’m sorry?” You said, not sure if that was an appropriate response or what he was looking for.
“Well, I thought I’d come over here and ask if you had something to help me,” he turned to John, “You look like you have a bottle-opener or maybe a switchblade on you.” He said and his cronies behind him cackled, making it clear that you, or more accurately, John, were the butt of their joke.
“You’re goddamned right I do,” John growled in response, making the guy’s joyous expression fall. He clearly didn’t seriously think this, and suddenly his joke became a terrifying possibilty. He backed away in a hurry, his friends grouping around him with eyes that flickered back to John cautiously. They had a hushed buzz among them, discussing him more, and above that, you could hear ‘I think that’s John Bender. I’ve heard about him. He’s a real psycho.’
You felt the flex of John’s arm muscle under your hand. “Hey, they’re not worth it,” you reminded him, “let’s just go.” You started to usher him out, Claire and Kevin joining you expeditiously, while he looked back over his shoulder at the group and grappled with what he wanted to say and do. In the end, he settled on a mild middle finger. You were relieved that it wasn’t something much worse. You tried to calm him down and impress upon him that the people there were losers, that you didn’t care what they thought, but he seemed uneasy, even when you dropped him off at his house. You felt tears stinging in your eyes as you watched him walk up the cracked driveway; he meant so much to you and you hated seeing him put down.
These aren't my people, these aren't my friends
She grabbed my face and that's when she said
I like that you're broken, broken like me
Maybe that makes me a fool
I like that you're lonely, lonely like me
I could be lonely with you
He thought he had changed. He could feel the tendrils of alteration happening in his heart, in his life. He fell for you so easily and was so trusting…but that party reminded him of the undeniable: you both were from two different worlds. It was going to implode just like his and Claire’s relationship had. So, he did what he did best and put the walls back up, steeling himself for self-sabotage and promising himself that it would hurt less if he initiated it.
It started with missed calls and denying dates. Half-assed excuses of having to work or having another detention. Putting distance between himself and you was his best bet. It was easier to resist you when he wasn’t looking at you or talking to you. He would have succeeded too, if you weren’t so determined to care about him enough to seek him out. He was shocked and a little upset to find you sitting outside his house. He hadn’t even noticed your car parked down the block; he wasn’t prepared for the confrontation and immediately withdrew into a guarded stance, balling his fists at his side.
“John,” you said, standing up from the curb in front of his house. “We need to talk. You can’t keep dodging me like this. That’s why I thought I’d finally come out here. Please.”
“There’s not much to say,” he sniffed, trying to act cool. In kind, you tried to act like those words didn’t strike you as harshly as they did.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I thought it would be pretty obvious when I stopped returning your calls. There’s nothing to say to you anymore.”
“How can you say that?”
“We’re two different people, Y/N. That party made that clear. Crys-tal.”
“I’m sorry for how they acted, but I told you, John, I don’t care what they think.”
“Well I do,” he spat back, “I don’t need to be dragged along to dinner parties like some pet, or--or freakshow.
“Do you think I wanted that reaction for you? That I’m showing you off for a laugh or something?” You asked, incensed. He couldn’t really think that, right? Surely he knew how you truly felt about him, how much you cared. But he gave a lazy shrug in response, refusing to meet your eyes.
“That’s your world now and there’s no part for me in it. Whether you agree with it or not. Just how it is.”
“So, you’re just going to be blase about this? And say…I don’t know, what, that we’re done? Just because some idiot that neither of us knows or will ever see again said some shitty thing to you?”
“Yeah, princess. I guess so.” He started to brush past you, but you grabbed on to his wrist, lightly.
“Don’t you care?” You asked him softly, unable to hold back your tears any longer. As they wove broken paths down your face, Bender resisted the urge to wipe them away and to take it all back. This was what was for the best. So, he bucked up and swallowed hard.
“No. It was fun while it lasted, kid.” He pulled out of your grasp and stormed forward to his house. He wasn’t about to let you see him cry.
Life is not a love song that we like
We're all broken pieces floating by
Life is not a love song we can try
To fix our broken pieces one at a time
“He’s miserable without you. You’re all he talks about,” Claire said as you two were sat in the food court at the mall, pleading with you to try to resolve your relationship with John.
“That’s surprising. He was the one who left, who broke up with me,” you reminded her.
“That’s just what he’s like, Y/N.” Claire said and then sighed, “Look, I don’t get it, either. His logic, I mean. He does and says stupid shit like that all the time, to avoid being serious and honest.”
“He didn’t seem like he was joking to me,” you huffed. Claire wasn’t there that night; she didn’t understand the heartbreak. You were too hurt to magically ‘fix’ this, even though you wanted John back and wanted to believe that he felt the same way without you.
“No, that’s not what I meant. I just---John doesn’t know what it’s like to be loved, Y/N. He’s never known that, not really. I don’t think he knew what to do with it when it came from you. I think it scared him. Like…like he wasn’t good enough, like it wasn’t normal for you to care about him. But you two are so good together. I think he needs you. And you love him.”
You looked away, pushing your finger against your lower lashes, stifling the tears gathered there. You did love John and Claire wasn’t telling you some big secret. He was open about his family and how they treated him. How many relationships had ended in a fight or someone forgetting him. You just hadn’t thought of that being a factor in him leaving, that he was running and hiding from something unfamiliar. But you didn’t know what to do about it. Bender had cracked your heart in two and left you crying on a dusty curb in front of his house.
“I don’t know, Claire. Maybe he’s right. Maybe we’re too different. Just not in the way he said. I can’t stop this feeling, this pain. Maybe we shouldn’t be together. How would I know he’s not going to run off again?” You asked and she had no reassuring answer for you, only a look filled with sympathy.
~*~*~
“You’re such a dumbass,” Claire told John bluntly.
“Well good morning to you too,” he grumbled back gruffly.
“I saw Y/N yesterday, John,” she clarified and his back stiffened.
“Oh.” He said flatly. No zinger from John Bender today.
“Yeah.” Claire nodded, and when he didn’t fill the silence, she continued, “You really hurt her, John.”
“That’s how it goes sometimes,” he muttered, taking no culpability.
“I know you don’t mean that. You never shut up about her. You don’t really want her gone. You especially don’t want her to suffer. And that’s why you’re a dumbass. Because you caused all of this, even though it isn’t what you want and it’s killing her.”
“You don’t get it, Claire. I mean, you should, but you don’t. So I’ll spell it out for you. I am not cut out for high society.” He dug his fingers into his chest, then gestured at her, “Exhibit A.”
“Just because we didn’t work out doesn’t mean it’s the same with her,” Claire rolled her eyes. “We fought all the time, John. Even when we met. But with Y/N… you’re so different with her. You should see yourself, how she impacts you.”
“I know exactly how she impacts me, thanks.” He started gritting his teeth. Cutting himself off from any other emotion and replacing it with anger, as always. “I have nothing to offer her in return,” he admitted.
“That’s not true, John,” Claire sighed pitifully, “you have yourself. Your humor, your love. She obviously misses you and feels the pain without you every day. It doesn’t matter if you’re not in the same tax-bracket or whatever. She loves you for you,” she poked a finger into his sternum, commandingly, “And you shouldn’t throw that all away.”
~*~*~
It never got easier, admitting that Claire was right; but Bender had to swallow his pride and do just that. He missed you, that much he was certain. But he also acquiesced to the idea that maybe she was right that you needed him, too. He couldn't fathom why; he never felt like he improved anyone's life, but Claire had said you were just as miserable in his absence, and a tiny shred of hope within himself begged him to believe her.
So, that's what he was doing outside your house now, having taken two buses and walking several miles to get here. It didn't matter if he felt like he was going to collapse in a heap on your threshold, he just needed you to open the door…and prayed that you'd give him the chance to make things right, to get you back into his life. He mustered up the courage to knock, half-afraid that you wouldn't be the one to open the door, half-afraid that you would be. While he didn't think he was ready to meet your family, (he was prepared to make that sacrifice if you requested it), he could just envision your proud, wealthy father turning him away in disgust; a punk like him would never be good enough for a daughter like you.
Both fortunately and unfortunately, you opened the door and stood in shock; he was the last person you expected on your doorstep. At this point, you would have welcomed a pushy salesman or a religious zealot. Instead, you felt the scarred-over portions of your heart tear open anew. "John," you said weakly, but your surprise got the best of you. It was an automatic response. In turn, he pushed down the rushing sensation of how good it felt to hear you say his name again after all this time.
"Y/N, I know I fucked up. Royally. But if it's all right, I ---I want to talk. To make up for it."
"I don't know if you can," you said, cracking his heart. But yours was just as damaged and longed for him. He didn't know it, but you couldn't say no to him. You're not sure you ever could have; he'd had you since day one. "But you can come in anyway."
You sat down out back, a place which held so many particularly good memories before, but had been tainted in John's absence. He had nowhere to start. He acted tough and confident, but it was all just that: an act. And he knew that you already knew that. He didn't know how to 'sell himself' or make you believe he was worthy of another chance, especially because he wasn't sure he believed it himself.
"So, uh," he cleared his throat and his eyes darted around warily, fearing to connect with yours. "Claire said she saw you and that you wanted to talk to me."
"Imagine that. It's almost like I've called you a hundred times and told you that myself, right before you broke up with me." He winced at how bluntly you put it and wanted to dodge the feeling of guilt that hit him. But he couldn't run. You were worth it to stay, to try.
"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do then. Or now, really. I just--" he finally looked up and glancing at your face dissipated any hope he had at maintaining his composure. Tears pricked his eyes instantly and he was unable to blink them off, so they began to pool instead. "I have missed you every second since then. Since before then. I thought I was doing the right thing, that that would be better for you, but. But Claire said it's just as hard for you, too." He trailed off and swallowed hard, trying again to keep the tears at bay, and you let him sit with his silence for a moment before confirming.
"It is. I've missed you just as much. Maybe more, but you hurt me, John. And I know you know that. That was the whole point, wasn't it? To try to make me not want you anymore?" He nodded and waited for something along the lines of 'well guess what? It worked. I'm totally over you, now get the fuck out of my house,' but that didn't come.
"It was exactly like that. That night at the party I--- I know you didn't care and you didn't see it that way, but it made me realize that I truly have nothing to offer you. All I'm ever good for in a relationship is for someone to get the thrill of dating a 'bad boy' or to piss off their parents."
"John," you cut him off, "it was never about pissing off my parents or making a statement. I liked you for you. You always saw me as I am, not what someone else wanted me to be. You saw the person lost in the shift between one life and another and--- and I thought we were the same. That you got that because you were like me. We're both broken in different ways and neither of us fit in anywhere, but we fit with each other, ya know? And…and when you left, it was like being all alone. I couldn't relate to anybody anymore because there's only one person who really, truly gets me, and that's you. That's what I get from it. That's what you have to offer: yourself and that connection. I never wanted anything else."
He took a moment to process that. "Y'know, no one's ever told me that I'm enough, before. They've always wanted me to be better, to be someone else. To change. I guess I just didn't know what to do when someone didn't expect that from me. It just didn't seem possible…like it should be some sort of trap. That's what I'm used to. I shouldn't have put that on you. I was just---scared. And I didn't think it would really hurt you. I mean, everyone else got along just fine without me. When I hurt someone, it doesn't last. It just pisses them off enough to get rid of me and to save themselves. They bounce right back. I didn't even consider --- anyway, that doesn't matter. I'm sorry. That I did that to you, that I left you alone." He began quaking, the tears refusing to be dammed anymore. He knew what that was like; he'd felt alone most of his life. Unless he was with you. He looked up to see your face mirroring his, just as broken-hearted without the other, but you gave him a faint smile underneath your tear-tracked cheeks.
"Just don't do it again," the smile then dropped and your quivering voice was dangerously quiet, "I don't want to be without you again."
"I don't deserve you. Or another chance," Bender whispered back as you approached. He didn't want to sucker you in through pity. That wasn't why he was here.
"John, I just want you, how you always were to me. Can you do that?" You asked and he nodded, startled by you taking his hands, "then that's good enough. That's what I want, what I need. You just can't run away again when you're scared. I need you, John."
"I won't. Never again," he replied, sincerely. John Bender wasn't known as being a man of his word, but this was one promise that he never betrayed.
I like that you're broken, broken like me
Maybe that makes me a fool
I like that you're lonely, lonely like me
I could be lonely with you
#breakfast club movie#the breakfast club#breakfast club#benderxreader#john bender x reader#bender#john bender#80s#80s fanfic#romance#ya romance#angst#angst with a happy ending
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Manaan - Chapter 127
Link to the masterpost. Chapter 126. Chapter 128.
@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma @darthvendar-blog @80strashbag thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.
——–
A thin layer of dust rests on the bench in my holding cell. It probably hasn’t been used in some time. I dust it off with my sleeve before sitting down and watching court officers catalog the contents of my pack and pockets. “One wrap of tools,” one says, picking up my droid toolkit and holding it for a camera to see.
“Please take good care of that,” I say, “It means a lot to me.”
“All cataloged evidence will be held in stasis until trial, and if it is deemed non-relevant it will be released to next of kin upon verdict.”
“Or… to the accused upon acquittal,” I say, “Right?” They both look at me, not answering, before turning back to their work. How reassuring.
“Two long swords,” the other says, unsheathing my swords gently, “With blood.”
“Hold for analysis,” says the first, before reaching to the next item, “Ten medpacs.”
“One length of rope, approximately three meters.”
“One datapad, mild damage, retrieved from the back pocket.”
“Assorted droid parts.”
“Encoded access pass, keyed for the Sith Embassy.”
“Hold or analysis. Two Jedi-type lightsabers.”
“Be careful with those,” I interrupt, but I’m not acknowledged.
One of them reaches for the final item. “One metal…” He stops. Scrutinizes it. “…something.”
“It’s an encrypted data core,” I say.
They turn back to me. “What’s on it?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly, “I don’t know the encryption sequence. I could probably figure it out, if I had a week. But for all I know, it could be just environmental data. Or nothing at all.”
“Not relevant to this case,” the other says, and it gets placed in the bin with the other, I assume, non-relevant items. At least if the worth happens, Carth can return it to the Republic. Even though it for sure is relevant, but even if I did tell them that, experience tells me they wouldn’t listen.
“I suppose it would be a waste of my time to ask what my rights are?” I ask.
“As an off-worlder, your rights are the same as those of any native,” one of them says, “You are entitled to a fair trial, carried out in a timely manner. You are entitled to visitors. You are entitled to a competent defense. An arbiter has been summoned for you.”
I nod. “Cool.”
A haggard-looking Selkath, juggling datapads, comes into the holding area and walks to the desk. “I have been summoned as arbiter for a human?” The desk attendant points at me. I wave. “Ah, Min Rena. Or Min Visz? I have little experience with off-worlders, I am uncertain which is correct.”
“Uh, either is- is fine,” I say, “But what is ‘Min?’”
“I - forgive me, I am unfamiliar with human genders as well, so I opted for a neutral title. If you would prefer a different —“
“No,” I interrupt, “no, ‘min’ is fine.”
He looks relieved. “Good. Good. I am called Bwa’lass, and I have been selected as your Arbiter for the duration of your trial. I will endeavor to prove to them that you are not guilty of the heinous crimes that you are accused of, namely…” He searches through his collection of datapads, and drops several before he finds the one he’s looking for. “Ah, here it is. Namely, initiating violence within the Sith Embassy, murdering members of the Ambassadorial Commission of the Sith Empire, and disregarding our own laws regarding violence in Ahto City, as well as numerous counts of property damage.”
This does not bode well. “Cool,” I say nervously, “Cool. Uh, Bwa’lass, I don’t mean to be rude, but, uh… I understood I had the right to a competent defense… and you seem…”
He sighs. “I know.” That definitely doesn’t bode well! “but I assure you, my lack of understanding of off-worlders does not impact my understanding of Selkath law!”
“I’m not doubting you there,” I say, “You know definitely more about Selkath law than I do. but sitting here, watching you juggle datapads… I won’t lie, I feel doomed.” He doesn’t say anything. “I have to wonder if I wouldn’t be better off defending myself.”
“While it is true that you do have that right,” Bwa’lass says, “I would recommend against it. Due to your confinement, you will not have much of a chance to build up evidence to pursue your case. Also, I do not believe you off-worlders truly understand the minds of us Selkath. It would be best if you left your defense up to me.”
The door opens again, and Carth walks in, flanked by a Selkath officer on either side. “Rena, this is unbelievable,” he says animatedly, “You haven’t done anything wrong. I can’t believe the Republic embassy hasn’t sent someone to defend you.”
“And admit they know me?” I say with a scoff, “Open themselves up to scrutiny, questions they don’t want asked?” He opens his mouth to say something else, but I stop him by speaking again. “Carth, this is my arbiter, Bwa’lass.” The haggard Selkath gives a small wave, dropping two more datapads in the process.
Carth looks from Bwa’lass, to me, back to Bwa’lass, and to me again. “You’re not serious.”
“Court appointed,” I confirm.
He shakes his head, looking petrified. “I’m going to the embassy -- Roland Wann has to assign someone to your defense.”
“Carth, don’t,” I say, “Don’t involve yourself in this any more than you have to be. The Star Map is more important than me.”
I can see the words on the edge of his tongue - “No, it’s not” - but he doesn’t say it. “We can’t get that without the data core. Which you had.”
“Non-relevant evidence will be released to next of kin upon verdict,” I say, repeating the Selkath officer.
He nods a bit, thinking. Then stops. “Or…released to you when they find you not guilty, right?”
“They wouldn’t tell me.”
The door opens again, and Jolee comes in. By himself. “What are you doing here?” Carth asks, “And how did you get here without any guards?”
“Well, I certainly didn’t use a Jedi mind trick,” Jolee says sarcastically, “That would be unethical.”
One of the guards with Carth scoffs. “A Jedi mind trick would not work on one of my officers,” he says confidently.
“Of course it wouldn’t,” Jolee says, then he raises his hand, “But the old man doesn’t need guards, does he?”
The officer’s eyes glaze over for a moment. “Uh…” he says, “no… the old man doesn’t need guards.” Unbelievable.
“I think you’ll both agree Rena’s defense is the more important matter at hand than my being here,” Jolee says.
“That’s an even better idea,” Carth says, “Contact the Jedi, they’ll send someone to defend Rena.”
“No, they won’t,” Jolee and I say at the same time. “This us all Master Vrook needs to have to be convinced of my ‘evil core,’” I say, “Not to mention the fact that they don’t have enough Jedi to spare. You know, the war? The destruction of Dantooine?”
“The Council also wouldn’t interfere in the legal system of a non-Republic world,” Jolee says, “Sending anyone here to Rena’s defense would draw unnecessary attention to the matter.”
“Malak already knows more about this mission than they’d like,” I say.
“We can’t just stand around and do nothing,” Carth says, “We have to do something!”
“No, you don’t,” I say firmly, “Neither of you have to do anything except testify if you’re asked. And in fact it’s better if you don’t do anything. If anything happens to me, it’s up to all of you to find the last Star Map and stop Malak.”
“Indeed,” Bwa’lass says, finally saying something, “It would be in all of your best interests to let me do my job as arbiter. To that end, I would like to interview my client alone so that we may adequately prepare for the trial tomorrow.”
“We have to do this right, guys,” I say, “Please trust me, I don’t want to spend time in a Selkath jail anymore than you do.”
“In fact,” Bwa’lass chimes again, “the punishment for the crime is death, by immediate execution.”
“DEATH?” Carth exclaims, causing his escorts to tense up. Bad time to say that, Bwa’lass.
Jolee holds Carth back. “Calm down, lad, before you get yourself arrested,” he says, “If Rena says to trust her, that’s exactly what we must do.”
“Jolee, I can’t just --” he shouts. But as he looks Jolee in the eyes… I don’t know what level they’re communicating on, what they say, but Carth relaxes. He looks back at me, like he’s trying to take me in. “Okay,” he says finally, “... Okay.” And nothing more.
“Please escort them back to their vessel,” Bwa’lass says to the officers, who nod and turn to leave with Jolee and Carth. But Carth doesn’t stop looking at me. His eyes are set on mine until they round the corner, out of sight. “Now,” Bwa’lass says, taking a deep breath, “I would first like to ask you a few questions regarding the events that led up to your arrest. I have already been given all relevant data on you and your companions, so that can be disregarded. For what reason did you enter the Sith Embassy?”
“I had been hired as a mercenary,” I say, “The court officers found a pass card with my belongings, I heard them catalog it.”
“Yes, I have record of that,” he says, “I find it unlikely that you are a mercenary, but perhaps the judges will be more sympathetic to your view.” Good to know my lawyer has no faith in me. “What is your prior association with the Sith?”
I scoff. “How much time do you have?”
“I beg your pardon?”
Actually… best not. At best, I’ll be told I’m making a mockery of the court if I say I was Revan. At worst I’ll be believed and executed for war crimes. “Forget it,” I say, “Before I joined the Jedi Order, I was a scout. I’d encounter other scout patrols who were hired by the Sith, and I was amicable with them, but beyond that my interactions have been nearly non-existent.”
“I am skeptical of that,” Bwa’lass says, “as will be the judges. You off-worlders tend to congregate much amongst yourself. I see no inherent differences between your two groups.”
“They’re philosophical differences, for the most part,” I say, “Political views, moral stances.”
“I see,” Bwa’lass says neutrally, “There is no need to elaborate further. That should be all the information I require of you, for now.”
Wait, that’s it? “Um… don’t you need to ask more questions?”
“I have all the information I need.”
“How can you expect to defend me without getting more information?”
“I think this trial is relatively straightforward,” he says with a shrug, “It should be obvious to the judges what has transpired.”
Obvious? “Uh… why don’t you tell me what you plan on telling them? Just… so we’re both on the same page.”
He looks a tad insulted, but with a small sigh, he says, “Very well. You were there by circumstance, not involved in the disturbance. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time on legitimate business, the business of the Jedi Order. The Jedi are above reproach, and none of their Order would have murdered so many out of spite.”
Oh, boy. “You don’t know much about the Jedi, do you?”
“I have no first-hand knowledge, but the reputation of the Order is well-known. Jedi are peacekeepers, not killers.” Yeah, this little war thing is just an effort to keep the peace, not a major struggle between good and evil.
Evil. That’s… oh, that’s good. “I tell you what, Bwa’lass. There was a Selkath present when I was arrested, her name is Shasa.”
“Yes, I know the name. Her father, Shaelas, has been before the judges numerous times, demanding action against the Sith for kidnapping Selkath youth. However, he has never been able to produce evidence to his claims, and has been summarily dismissed each time.”
“Could it be managed for Shasa to give testimony? She’s a part of the story the judges will want to hear,” I say.
“As a youth, her father must be consulted on the matter. I will make the necessary inquiries prior to the start of the trial tomorrow.” I get the feeling he’s just humoring me, but he doesn’t have to believe me. He just has to do it.
“Thank you. After that your services are no longer needed. I think it’s best if I defend myself.”
He sighs again. ‘While that is your right, I strongly recommend against that,” he says again, “I am versed in all the necessary particulars of this case and Selkath law, off-worlder. You would do well to heed my advice.”
“Bwa’lass, I respect you and your knowledge,” I say, “But to put it bluntly, I think that if I rely on you for my entire defense, I’m not going to survive the trial. You’ve been a huge help, but once you’ve arranged for Shasa to testify, I can take it from there.”
“And if her father refuses?”
“I will cross that bridge when I get there.” The Sith master’s datapad should still be with my belongings. I know I heard the court officers record mine, but they were going through stuff before I got brought to this cell.
“Very well,” Bwa’lass says reluctantly, “You off-worlders are not known for your mental prowess. I shall leave your demise up to you.” He bows his head slightly and leaves.
Well. Nothing more to do now but wait.
#kotor#knights of the old republic#star wars#star wars knights of the old republic#autistic artist#fiction#specs writes stuff#rena visz#oc#fem!revan#ls!revan#kotor fic#carth onasi#bwa'lass#jolee bindo#manaan#death mention tw#sith#chapter 127
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How about we say FUCK DEADLINES and instead celebrate my birthday with another chapter of The Shifter finally?!
@theawkwardavengerr @nonsensicalobsessions@purplekitten30 @lostgreekgod @roguemetalmaster13 @huntress-artemiss @midnights-ramblings @xorpsbane @ravenmailey @vbecker10 @lazulifoster @winterfrostsarmy @ada17h @lokisprettygirl22 @theaudacitytowritee @lokis-little-love @themorningsunshine @strawberry-canyon @howdidurhammergrowchris @michelleleewise @80strashbag @roseeatta @asgardianprincess1050 @jaspearl31 @ozymdias @vickie5446 @itsybitchylittlewitchy @kittiowolf210 @nightshadelm
#loki x you#loki fanfic#loki odinson#loki x reader#loki#loki x female reader#loki fic#loki fluff#loki laufeyson x reader#loki fluffy drabble#loki angst#loki fanfiction#loki laufeyson#loki laufeyson x y/n#loki x reader fluff#loki x reader angst
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Master List
Requests are currently closed.
Formerly Loki Prompts. Slowly reposting my master list.
One Shots
Rules of Midgardian Dating - ( GN, You reject Loki's courtship proposal, so Loki must learn about Midgardian dating. Rom Coms know all, right? Fluff)
Little Realizations - (GN, Short reader is intimidated by tall people ie Loki. Fluff)
Picture Perfect - (GN, You are a professional photographer and you take his picture. Pure fluff).
The Decision - (Fem Reader Loki has recurring dreams that you and your child are captured by Thanos - HEAVY angst)
The Glass Slipper (Fem Reader, You are stuck babysitting Morgan and Loki. Morgan thinks that you are a princess...so what happens when she finds out that Loki is a prince? Fluff)
Series
The Shifter (You unintentionally shift to the MCU when you sleep. You meet Loki and must choose between a universe with him, or your real world. Fluff, smut, angst)
Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5
LOKI PROMPTS UNICORNS 🦄:
@theawkwardavenger @nonsensicalobsessions @purplekitten30 @lostgreekgod @roguemetalmaster13 @huntress-artemiss @midnights-ramblings @xorpsbane @ravenmailey @vbecker10 @lazulifoster @winterfrostsarmy @ada17h @lokisprettygirl22 @theaudacitytowrite @lokis-little-love @themorningsunshine @strawberry-canyon @howdidurhammergrowchris @michelleleewise @80strashbag @roseeatta @asgardianprincess1050 @jaspearl31 @ozymdias @moonlightreader649 @yelkmelk @sinsandguilt @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @all-envy-suyu
#loki#Loki Laufeyson#loki odinson#Loki Angst#loki smut#loki drabble#loki fanfic#loki fanfiction#loki fluff#loki x y/n#loki x female reader#loki x reader#loki x you
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Hello! So are you going to keep doing the Paradise on earth series?
Hi! Yes I will be continuing the series, I was just suffering from writers block and there was a lot going on in my life. Now that everything has calmed down, i'll go back to writing this series soon.
Taglist: (i'm tagging you all so you know that I haven't completely abandoned this story)
@deanwherescas - @thtbwltts - @nerdypartytrashpsychic - @random-girl-army - @siresweeney - @simpingbutch - @obx-pogues-4-life - @mitchloveswriting - @p-prettybitch - @gwynschampagne - @slut4booksx - @ellallheart - @shay-https - @namacissi - @lyn07 - @caseysalvatore - @mysticmolina - @dangerdolns - @inkandpen22 - @beebeerockknot - @im-broliet - @princessalana - @princesspogue - @ayeitsjustmee - @instabull - @sexyfoxlady - @80strashbag - @onlyangel-444 - @a-j-stuffs - @clinelyn - @saintgwyn - @bubs-world - @sdawn03 - @boldlypessimistic
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Ouija Board (Tate Langdon x Reader)
Summary: You have a sleepover at your new house, and your friend decides to bring out your Ouija board. But, you’re all teenage girls, so the questions are completely unhinged and un-serious. But, the ghost you’re talking to takes full advantage of the situation. It’s a perfect opportunity, he’s been watching for you weeks. You’re living in his room, afterall.
warnings: 2.9k words -- self insert! female receiving. shameless smut. post-death Tate, ghost sex, cunnilingus, handjob, rough sex, unprotected sex, mention of ghosts/death.
Ao3 link here! Full fic below the cut! 18+.
tagged: @zabelcolin @kaismanwich @elsamars @thewolveswithin @marylovesevanpeters @80strashbag @r-3tro @twinkiemaximoff @milkovich-misfit {dm/ask to be added!}
It was the third week in the new house.
It was the first time that you actually felt at home. Somehow, you’d managed to make two friends from school, which was equally as shocking to you as it was to your parents. In previous schools, you’d always been on the outskirts, bored stiff at the idea of socialising. When you’d announced to your dad at dinner that you’d actually braved the choppy shores of friendship, he’d nearly choked on his coffee.
“That’s wonderful! Why don’t you invite them over for dinner tonight?” Your mom asked, setting her mug down on the table. You rocked your foot back and forth, mulling over the idea. Previously, your days off from school had been spent unpacking and checking around corners, listening to the creaking and whining of an old house.
Your mother was delighted with its age, commenting on the Tiffany glass and wood — but you felt things that had rotted underneath the wood. Things that whispered when your back was turned, or lingered in the kitchen when you went for a glass of water in the middle of the night.
“Okay, sure.”
So that night, instead of flicking the light switch off in your bathroom and making a beeline for your bedroom, you sat on the floor with Jessica, Angie, a dish of pizza rolls and three glasses of grape soda.
You swallowed the mouthful, and nodded. “No, I’m serious. This house is weird. The first week I was here, in the kitchen… I saw a blonde lady with a hole in the back of her head.”
Jessica snapped the book she was leafing through, and turned. “I bet she was murdered. Don’t you have an Ouija board?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, pointing towards the bookcase. “Never used it, though.”
“You’re going to. This is much more fun than going to Town Hall and asking for records on previous owners. Sometimes, they don’t include death certificates — which is obviously what everyone is interested in. That’s the good stuff.” It took all of three minutes for Jessica to set it up. In unison, the three of you delicately placed two fingers on the planchette.
“Okay… so, what do we ask?”
You chewed on the inside of your lip, thinking.
“Is there anyone here with us?” You blurted out.
The planchette skidded to life, circling in the middle of the board. You’d seen it happen in movies, but the actual sensation was an unsettling one. YES. You all exchanged looks, searching for any guilty expressions — but it seemed that none of you had opted to play any tricks. The planchette had moved by itself.
“Did you die here?” Angie asked.
YES.
Jessica gasped. “Ooooh, what if it’s a cute ghost boy like in Casper? Can I keep you?”
Completely enrapt with the idea, she turned her attention to the board, and asked, “Is the spirit in this room male?”
YES.
“Well, that rules out Miss Hole in her Head.” You cleared your throat, focusing on the printed letters. “Have you been the one in my room every night?”
“The one in your room every night?!” Jessica hissed, shooting a pointed look at you. You shrugged apologetically. Angie, who was visibly uneasy with the entire idea, almost fell backwards when the spirit answered.
YES.
“Oh my god!?” Jessica hung her head between her arms, laughing. “It’s probably some old grandpa with a shrimp dick, let’s be real here.”
“Bet. I’ll find out. Do you have a big dick, Mr. Ghost?” You asked.
Again, the planchette zipped to YES. Whoever he was, he didn’t hesitate. Cute. The three of you howled, laughing at the ridiculousness of the question. Angie desperately tried to redirect the conversation by asking the ghost what it wanted. The planchette spelled out HER.
Jessica lifted her fingers, and Angie screeched at her to return them. “If you don’t say goodbye, the spirit will have an open invitation to come into you!”
“To come!?” Jessica mocked. “To come into me?! Oh, the horror — don’t come into me! Pull out first, Ghost.”
Angie scowled. “You’re so gross.”
As they bickered, you stared at the planchette. It was still active, despite Angie and Jessica’s attention being pulled away. It quivered back and forth, as though it was shaking nervously.
Once Jessica’s wandering mind had been reigned back in, the three of you managed a few more more questions; some about murder, some about occult, and some about other ghosts in the house. Eventually, the sun disappeared from your window, plunging your room into darkness, and your mother called the three of you down to eat. Your friends stayed for about an hour after dinner, and they’d seemingly forgotten about the Ouija board. You hadn’t, though. You leaned your back against the door, the coldness of the glass piercing through your cotton shirt. Your eyes trailed up the staircase, following the bend of the bannister as it curved to the left. Before you made your way upstairs to ready yourself for bed, you craned your neck down the hall, trying to listen for the whispers.
~
You sat upright in your bed, gasping for air. The book clutched in your hand fell to the floor with a thud. You hadn’t even really remembered falling asleep, but the creak of your floorboards had woken you up. You were met with nothing but the silence and glittering darkness of the room while your eyes adjusted. Eventually, the speckles turned into furniture pieces; your dresser, your mirror, your bookcase… everything seemed in order. The clock on your bedside table incessantly blinked 2:34 AM.
Something skidded across the floor, a spinning blur of tan and black. You yelped, throwing yourself up against your headboard. Your room was silent save for that sound of something hard scooting against a flat surface. You took a deep breath, and crept forward gingerly, wincing each time your mattress creaked.
You gripped the edge of your bed frame tightly, knuckles paling. You peered over. In the middle of the floor where you’d been sitting earlier, the Ouija board was laid out. The planchette swept across the board as it had earlier, but this time with no hands to guide it. It zipped across the board aggressively, as though it was trying to get your attention.
“Hello?”
The triangle paused, then slowly drifted to hello.
Dumbfounded, your mouth opened and closed. You were at a loss — because no horror movie had ever given you any idea how to politely hold a conversation with a spirit outside of the traditional setting.
“Um…. can I… help you? Are you here to possess me?”
Stupid. That was stupid.
Watching as the planchette swept across the board, you read the letters allowed.
“L…A…Y…. Lay? Lay. Okay. B…A…C…K? Lay back?” You waited for further confirmation, but the planchette stayed still for a moment.
It started spinning again, quickly spelling out a final instruction. “Close my eyes. Lay back and close my…. eyes.”
You heaved a sigh, and against your better judgement, you did. You shimmied back underneath the covers, pulling them up to your chest, and waited. The seconds were excruciating, and you were sure some horror movie had to have started like this.
The duvet rustled at the bottom of the bed, and all at once, a gust of cold air hit your feet. The mattress gave to the weight of someone, and you yelped at the feeling of clothed shoulders nestling in between your thighs.
A broad hand ghosted across your stomach, fiddling the scalloped edge of your pyjama shorts. It swooped into your inner thigh, then circled down along your knee. Though the actions were soft, you couldn’t help but feel the knot forming in your stomach. Letting out a soft whimper, you bit your lip, clamping down hard. One hand slid up, caressing the curve of your ribs. You writhed. “You’re driving me insane…” you whispered harshly. Had you really been that touch starved?
Lips hovered over your inner thigh, the hot breath washing over the warm skin. A single finger ran along the inside, trailing further and further up. He slowed as he neared you, wordlessly asking for permission.
“Please,” you begged, doing everything you could not to scoot your hips down into him and embarrass yourself any further. “Please…”
He continued. The pad of his finger floated over you, stroking, teasing until the wetness soaked through the threads. The hands disappeared, but only to return to the sides, where they gripped the waistband, tugging them softly off your hips.
You took a deep breath and immediately clamped your hand over your mouth, muffling the shrill whine that tried to escape. Whoever he was, lapped at your cunt like it was a melting ice cream cone, and it didn’t take long for it to start weeping, soaking the green sheets beneath you.
Your chest rose and fell quickly, and your eyelids fluttered, overwhelmed with the sensation. Everything was white and on fire. Your thighs trembled deep within the muscle with every flick of his tongue. Were you really getting eaten out by a ghost? Was that actually happening? You felt silly acknowledging that. His tongue flattened out against your clit and you let out a whine, erasing every other thought. He pressed his face deeper into your wet folds, tongue flicking at the underside of your clit.
“Fffffuck, oh my god.”
You had to know. You swallowed, and tightened your lips into a thin line. You were ready for whatever horrifying visual would meet you. With one final surge of courage, you flipped the covers up, opened your eyes and gazed into the tented darkness. A head of soft, blonde curls bobbed softly between your legs.
“HELLO?!” It wasn’t a greeting, but the boy lifted his head from your cunt. Two dark eyes glimmered at you from beneath the duvet.
“Hey,” he said, chin glistening. “I’m Tate. I used to live here.”
“You’re so…. cute?”
He smiled crookedly, the dimples in his cheek deepening. “Were you expecting Freddy Krueger or something?”
Your head fell back on the pillow like an anvil and a breathy laugh broke your pants. “Yeah, maybe. Jesus Christ…. I don’t know. I’ve never had a ghost between my legs.”
“You liked it. You’re so wet.” He was pleased with himself, you could tell. Reaching one finger up to stroke your opening, he angled his head to watch the way you clenched and squirmed at his touch.
“Was I… were you the one I was talking to with my friends?” He nodded. He shifted his weight, manoeuvring himself up until he was above you, supporting himself with hands on either side of your neck.
“I’ve been watching you since you moved in, Y/N… I didn’t want to scare you away.” He confessed, searching your face. “I’ve wanted you for weeks.”
You were scrambling to keep your thoughts in one manageable bundle. On one hand, this scenario was insane and you were sick to be enjoying it. On the other… sure, he was dead, but he was easily one of the cutest boys you’d ever seen and the way he wanted you was intoxicating. His dark eyes darted from your lips to your eyes, wordlessly asking for permission. You craned your neck up to meet him, pressing into his plush, pink lips.
You’d never been one of those boy crazy teenagers, but you understood the cathartic release that sex brought. It was carnal and natural. You’d only ever slept with one other person, so the hunger was never sated, and you were left quietly fingering yourself after your parents fell asleep. Every time you’d had the chance to have made out with someone though, you tasted them. Deeply. Kissing someone released their scent, the one that only intimate partners got. And none of them had ever been as heady and addictive as Tate was. You tilted your head to get further into his waiting mouth, swirling your tongue with his. You whimpered, sending a moan down his throat.
You reached under, sliding your hands down his stomach. The tiniest trail of hair guided you to the waistband of his jeans, where you made quick work of the buttons. Breaking the kiss only to help with scooting his jeans over the curve of his ass, Tate quickly returned his lips against yours, his tongue moving past your lips eagerly.
Although you were going in blind, it wasn’t difficult to find his cock. Not only did it take up most of the space between you two, but it was hot to the touch, the heat radiating from beneath the thin fabric of his boxers. You pressed your hand against him, getting an idea for the length.
“Huh. So, you weren’t lying about that.” Tate’s hips ground against your palm in response. You reached up, flipping the elastic down so you could slip your hand in, dragging your fingers along the soft tip. Your palm was immediately slick with his precum; the thick fluid coated the soft skin. You used your thumb to smear some of it to the underside of the head, teasing at the ridges. He groaned, burying his face into your neck.
“I didn’t lie about anything you asked me.”
You began stroking him underneath the sheets in slow, full movements and Tate’s breathing hitched, hips bucking forward involuntarily. You sped up, feeling warm droplets dribble onto your exposed tummy. Your thumb pressed into the squishy flesh of his head, not expecting the reaction that followed.
“Mm-uh—please. Please, I want you. Please.” He was begging, whining, and his big brown eyes were filled with a pathetic yearning that made your walls soak even further.
“So do it.”
He wasted no time in completing your demand. He sat up, the covers falling off his back.Tate gripped himself, giving his cock a few pumps before he lined himself up, pressing his hot, leaking tip into your entrance. Snatching the opportunity from him, you bucked your hips up to his, forcing his cock inside. You clenched around him hungrily and Tate let out a throaty whine as he pushed the remaining length into you.
He started out slow, taking his time as he slid in and out of you, but the slick pull of your walls each time he slid out unravelled his concentration. Each thrust seemed a little more desperate than the last, his balls slapping against you, splashing the mixture of his spit and your cum against your inner thighs. Bottoming out inside of you, he arched his neck backwards, letting it hang heavy. “Are you a virgin?”
“Wha — no.” You breathed, adjusting your head on the pillow to look at him. Odd question to ask in the middle of the deed. “Why?”
Tate swallowed, and between pants, said, “Because…. you’re so wet.” He dropped forward, pressing his forehead against yours. His cock was still inside, the girth hitting you at a new angle, and the fullness made your stomach clench.
“I’m going to fuck you hard, okay? Tell me if I’m hurting you. I don’t want to hurt you.”
You nodded fervidly, and slithered your hands underneath his sweat-soaked shirt until it gathered. Tate lifted his arms, and allowed you to slip the shirt over them. You tossed it towards the edge of the bed, and raked your nails along his naked chest.
“Please.” It was your turn to beg. Tate backed his hips out, pulling himself from your warmth. “I want it.”
He dropped back down to his hands, getting a tight grip on the mattress behind you. His lips met yours again, hungrily. It provided only a momentary distraction, because the second that Tate started pounding into you, you could focus on nothing else — except suppressing your aroused screams. He scooted closer to you on the bed, angling himself to get deeper.
He was hitting every spot he could, and your breaths quickened as he fucked you closer to the edge. You bit down on your lip, squeezing your eyes shut. He had just started, and you were already about to lose it.
“Are you gonna’ cum? Huh?” Tate asked, now struggling to keep his rhythm. If you were close, he seemed to be closer — and you didn’t feel so bad. Tate reached down, pulling himself out to slide the tip of his cock over your clit a few times before stuffing it back in. Your lips parted in a soundless scream as you felt the unmistakable warmth filling you, the quivering in your legs, and the desperate, spasming arch of your back.
“Fuck, fuck,” Tate chanted, feeling your orgasm as it gripped him in a wet, pulsing chokehold. “Fuck!”
As he spilled into you, Tate fell atop of your body, pressing his sweaty forehead against yours. His hips were on autopilot, erratically bucking with each gush. You winced, on the verge of overstimulation. Gradually, his thrusts slowed.
He flopped over on the side of you, one hand stroking the outside of your thigh delicately. He was gazing at you dreamily when you turned to face him.
“So, do I have to bring out the Ouija board each time I want to see you?”
Tate propped his head up on his hand. “You want to see me again?”
You rolled your eyes to the ceiling, a taunting smile curling around your swollen lips. “Uhhh… yeah.”
“I can be here every night if you want.” He purred.
“Haven’t you been anyway? Or did you lie about that?”
Tate’s brows pulled upwards, looking hurt. “I told you — I didn’t lie about anything! I’d never lie to you!”
“Okay, shh —“ You silenced him with your lips. “I’ll be right back. I have to pee.”
For the first time since you’d moved in, you weren’t afraid of ghosts as you walked to the bathroom. You were just afraid that the one in your bedroom would be gone when you got back.
He wasn’t, though.
#Tate Langdon#American Horror Story#ahs murder house#tate langdon smut#ahs smut#tate langdon x reader#tate langdon x yn#myfics#fanfiction#ahs fanfiction
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breakfast at tiffanys
pairing: eleven x fem byers!reader (family)
summary: enjoying a cosy audrey hepburn movie.
A/N: i actually got to visit the six-story tiffany store in new york and its beautiful!!!!! also this one is hella hella short, like blink and your done.
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January 13, 1986
“Why hasn’t he said it back?”
A look to your left with a furrow on your brows at El’s abrupt question. Eyes peeking back to the movie that was playing on the living room TV, an Audrey Hepburn movie where she looks stunning as usual and her male interest is declaring his love for her.
“Why doesn’t who say what back?” Turning the volume down a notch so she knows all your attention is on her and this important question.
El sighed and twisted the cuff of her long-sleeved shirt, legs adjusting to a crisscross position. She peeked shyly over at you and spoke low, “Why hasn’t Mike said I love you back?”
“Oh! Um… well…” You didn’t know why he hadn't said anything along those lines to her. He seems very much infatuated with their relationship. “Well, he’s a guy. A boy, El. They are idiots and don’t know how to express their feelings straight.”
A pout came to her lips, “But Steve says it all the time to you. And Jonathan has said he loves Nancy. So why is it hard for Mike?” Her hands dropped to pick at the fabric of her pajama pants.
You rolled your lips as you shuffled closer to her and threw an arm over her shoulder to pull her into your chest. “I don’t know, sweetheart. Might be due to his parents or he might not know that he’s in love, not understanding his feelings at this age. He’ll say it eventually though, I know it.”
“Do you- Do you love Steve?” Another question but one you easily had the answer to. “Of course I love him. I never thought I would get a chance to wholeheartedly display my love for him, but it’s even better than I imagined.”
El didn’t say anything in reply, no question or retort. She just snuggled in close to your hold as the both of you returned your attention to Audrey and her man of the hour.
-
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#the byers harrington story#stranger things x reader#stranger things imagine#stranger things series#stranger things fic
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Could I request something like Steve protecting reader in a fight please (maybe with a monster since he's better in those fights)?
ty for the request my love! this is a different take on that scene in the creel house. i got a little carried away with this one again but i hope you like it!
tw - vol 2 spoilers, thoughts of death, injury, near death
1.2k words
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The air was cold, and she shuddered as she walked through the creepy house, her eyes glued to the floor to make sure that she didn’t step on any of the vines. The old Creel house had made her nervous the first time they visited, but it was a whole different type of terrifying in the Upside-Down. It saddened her to think of Will Byers, and that he had gotten stuck there when he was just so small. That kid was way braver than she ever could be.
“Hey,” she had been squeezing the circulation out of Steve’s hand ever since they entered the house, but he hadn’t seemed to mind. His words were whispered and she glanced up at him for a moment. “Where do you fancy, then – Enzo’s, that pizza place near my house, McDonald’s–”
“You want to take me on a date to McDonald’s?”
Steve was good at reading her; what she needed, how she felt, what she thought. And she supposed it was because he knew that she was scared, or simply because he really did want to, but ever since they had climbed back through the portal in Eddie’s trailer he had been planning to take her on a date when they got home. It was sweet, and whilst the nervousness of what they were doing left her chest tight and uncomfortable, Steve still managed to make her smile.
“Well, it might not be the most romantic place, but it’s still nice. I’ll even buy you a Happy Meal.”
“Wow, Harrington, no wonder you’re so popular with the ladies.” She giggled, and he grinned at her.
“Guys,” Nancy’s voice from in front of them was nervous, and the girl’s frown made her feel nauseous with worry. “You hear that?”
Before Nancy could elaborate, a rumble ran through the house before the entire thing began to shake. It felt like the floor was purposely trying to push them over, like a horse trying to get someone off of its back, and if it wasn’t for Steve’s tight grip on her hand she would have fallen backwards down the staircase that took them too long to climb. He yanked her forwards away from the edge, and in her movement her foot stepped on something squishy, but as she gripped onto Steve’s arm with both hands her one thought was that she couldn’t fall over.
All of them were holding onto each other by the time it had stopped. Both of her hands were a vice on Steve’s arm, he had his free hand on Robin’s shoulder, who had her fingers laced with Nancy’s. It took them all a moment to let go of each other, and even then everyone stayed silent, listening for any other hints at it happening again.
“Alright,” Steve finally spoke up, squeezing Robin’s shoulder since she looked like she was about to throw up. “Onwards and upwards?”
Something cold touched her ankle, and her stomach dropped as something wrapped itself around her ankle. Her eyes were wide as she looked down and watched the vine wrap itself around her leg, and she didn’t move in fear of making it worse.
“Steve?” She whispered his name, and by the time he looked at her the vine had stopped moving.
Her hand slipped from his when she was pulled off of her feet, and all of the breath was knocked out of her when she hit the floor. She barely had time to suck a breath back in when another vine snaked around her chest, and she was lifted back up and slammed against the wall with such force that the air was forced from her lungs once again. They were all over her, slimy ropes that pulled at her limbs, restricting her movement whilst they kept her pinned to the wall. She was going to die, she thought as she struggled to breathe in again, oh god she was going to die.
Everyone else was panicking. Through her tears she made out Nancy’s figure as she slammed the butt of her gun against one of the vines, Robin was trying to pull the vines away from her legs, and Steve had his axe raised before he swung it down on the vine closest to her head.
“Steve-” Her words were rasped out through the conscricting vine around her neck, and as the tightness grew and her breathing began to struggle, she panicked more. “I don’t- I don’t wanna die.”
His eyes were wide, like she had slapped him, and for a moment the most terrified look she had ever seen crossed his features. Steve slammed the axe down again, his eyebrows scrunched, and he shook his head. “You’re not going to die.” His voice was firm, like he would not be letting that happen.
The vines were so tight they hurt. Her wrists were burning at the restricted blood flow, her stomach hurt with the pressure, and her throat was on fire from the lack of air. Her last struggled breaths were wheezed in and the heartbeat in her ears almost drowned out everyone else's panicking.
“Nancy!” She barely made out Steve’s panicked words. “You see that there? On my signal, shoot.”
Steve held the axe above his shoulder, and it was the last thing she saw before her eyes squeezed shut. She was growing lightheaded, and the panic was too much whilst watching them as well.
“Now!”
The gunshot was louder than she had anticipated, and it sent a rumble through the wall against her back whilst the axe cut through something on her other side. And thankfully the vines started loosening their hold on her. The one around her neck recoiled first, and she was left gasping for breath as the rest of the vines followed. The one around her stomach was last, and it dropped her from the wall, only to land on Steve, sending them both to the floor.
“Y/N!” His hands were on her cheeks as she spluttered for breath, leant over her as his knees pressed into her back. “Hey, hey talk to me! Are you okay?”
His face was a little blurry through her tears, and by that point she was half breathing in and half crying, but she took one of his wrists with her trembling hand and nodded.
“I’m okay, I’m okay.” She rushed out, and the latter half of her sentence was muffled by Steve’s jacket when he leaned down to hug her.
His palm worked its way against her upper back between her shoulder blades and anchored her to his chest, cradling her like she was a baby, and in the midst of her tears and aching everything it was exactly what she needed.
“Don’t ever do that again,” he mumbled into her hair, where he left a countless amount of kisses. “Okay? Shit, you scared the life out of me.”
“I’m okay,” she assured again, and sighed into his collar as she shut his eyes. “Promise.”
She knew that they still needed to finish what they came to do, but she allowed herself that one moment in his arms to feel better. She took in another deep breath and sighed, safe all the while she was encased in his arms.
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x reader fanfic#steve harrington x reader blurb#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington imagines#steve harrington imagine#stranger things#stranger things imagines#stranger things imagine
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What's in a name? II
a/n: a little blurb part two of this
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Fluff)
Content Warning: spoiler for 5x01
Word Count: 0.5k
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Y/n knew Spencer's spirits had been dampened both from getting shot in the leg and subsequently having to stay back at Quantico instead of getting to go out in the field with the team. Since he was allowed back at the BAU, he'd done nothing but mop around, wishing everyone would treat him like he'd grazed his arm.
She also knew there was a little toddler who could always cheer him up and had been doing so in the nearly three months the people he identified as his parents had been together.
So after the case, instead of going home, she took a slight detour to her apartment to get Beckham and take him back to Quantico, knowing Spencer would still be there.
He happily babbled all the way to the building, not knowing who he was going to see. Quickly, his dad had become his favorite person. Mainly because of how much time they spent together as a family.
Once she reached the 6th floor and couldn't see Spencer in the bullpen, she guessed he'd still be with Penelope and headed in that direction.
Pushing open the door, she held Beckham's hands in hers, keeping him stable as she walked behind him. The laughter between Spencer, JJ, Morgan, Emily, and Penelope halted, and they turned around to find out who had entered.
"Hey, buddy," Spencer said, earning the little boy's attention from everyone else in the room.
"Daddy!" Beckham exclaimed his most frequently used word, walking over to him once he was released by Y/n.
The team all shared stunned expressions, exchanging glances to confirm they'd heard the same thing. Then they looked to Y/n or Spencer for an explanation as to why he wasn't just known by his name. It was such an intimate title, and they speculated that it was because of one reason. The explanation they had been hoping for the duration of Spencer and Y/n's almost-relationship friendship.
Spencer was too wrapped up in picking him up, trying not to hurt himself while hugging his kid. "Sore?" Beckham asked knowingly as he patted Spencer's leg.
"No, I'm okay." He replied, looking over at Y/n, who had melted from their interaction and stood next to them.
It was like there was no one else in the room, and they were spending a Sunday morning in Y/n's apartment, aside from the fact majority of their colleagues were there.
"Look how sweet you three are." Penelope cooed, reminding them that there were other people in the room. She leaned her head against Morgan's shoulder, both smiling at the family.
That made Y/n's eyes snap back up, cheeks heating with a bashful smile. "Does this mean you're finally together?" Emily asked curiously. JJ sat next to her, hands cupped together over her mouth but not hiding her smile.
Running her hand through Spencer's curls gave them an answer, but Y/n solidified it when she kissed his cheek, and he reddened. "Yes, and it's all because of Beck because I would never have had the courage." He answered the original question, tightening his grip around the toddler.
"This feels like all my teams coming true." Penelope grinned, expressing the admiration the rest of the team was feeling towards the adorable, odd little family.
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Manaan - Chapter 126
Link to the masterpost. Chapter 125. Chapter 127.
@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma @darthvendar-blog @80strashbag thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.
a/n - thanks Darth Vendar for unintentionally telling me to update my tag list!
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The two assault droids are still emitting a faint hiss as we pass through the large chamber. But more than the slight burn of the machinery, I smell something vaguely… fishy. God, that’s probably super racist. I will just… keep that thought to myself.
Not “fishy” like “suspicious”, I mean I smell fish. Wow, look at me not keeping my thoughts to myself.
I open the far door and hear something slapping against the floor. A bare foot. I can’t say for certain whether that bare foot is a foot or a flipper, but it’s definitely a bare foot, and it was running away from us. Well, there’s only one direction to go, so that must be where they went. Through another door, followed by more barefoot running away. Now it’s less certain where they went, but that’s not important since we’re where we wanted to be anyway. This is definitely a barracks and a training area. It looks a lot like the door layout of the Endar Spire. A place where soldiers would be. But it also resembles some of the training spaces on Korriban. For Jedi training. “They’re training the Selkath to be Jedi,” I say, “Dark Jedi, this could give them a massive political leg up.”
“Only if it works,” Carth says, “I imagine you have something to say on the subject.”
I chuckle shortly - yeah, no shit - and head for the dormitory in front of me. Four Selkath turn their heads towards the opening door, and their hands go to blasters when they realize we’re not Sith.
“Intruders!” one exclaims, “Should we sound the alarm, Shasa?”
Shasa - that was the name Shaelas said, wasn’t it? His daughter. She also seems to be the de facto leader in the room. “No,” she says, “wait. We cannot always be running to the Masters for help. We should handle this on our own.” They relax, hands falling away from their blasters.
“Perhaps this is a test the Sith have prepared for us?” one asks in a timid voice.
Shasa gives a small nod, and turns back to us. “What are you doing here? Only masters and apprentices are allowed in here.”
“My name is Rena,” I say, “Shaelas has me looking into the disappearance of young Selkath. I guess he meant you guys.”
“I told you your father would get suspicious, Shasa!” one of them says, “He always hated the Sith!”
“My father doesn't understand,” Shasa says to both of us, “He is blinded by his own prejudice!” She turns fully to us. “The Sith are teaching us mastery of the Force. Our alliance with the Sith will bring strength to Manaan and the Selkath people!”
I scoff. “If I had a nickel for every time I heard that,” I say, “I’m sure that’s what they told you, but they were lying to you. They’re manipulating you for their own gain.”
“Republic propaganda,” Shasa scoffs, “The Sith are the victims of lies and half truths! They are not monsters - no more so than the Republic. The Sith have promised to guide us in the use of the Force, as a sign of their good faith.” And they make you use blasters instead of swords or lightsabers? “And once the Republic is defeated, the Sith have promised to withdraw from Manaan and respect our independence.”
Okay. Okay. Uh… no. “You do realize you’re basically forfeiting that independence by working with them, right?” Guys, seriously. You seem smarter than this. “You guys being here gives the Sith political leverage to bring Manaan into their empire. The opposite of independence - they’ll just take Manaan for their own.”
“Spare us your lies!” she exclaims, “The Sith have treated us with nothing but respect and honor! You speak as if we are prisoners here, but we can leave whenever we wish! Our friend Galas chose to leave, and he was returned safely to his home in Ahto City.”
But the others seem a bit less certain. “Shasa,” one says, “what if they speak the truth? Remember what happened at Taris…”
“Taris is nothing but a Republic lie!” she says.
“I was there!” Canderous says, “It’s not a lie, the planet is decimated. Your ‘honorable’ Sith and their fleet bombed the planet into rubble.”
“Then you are nothing but a Republic puppet, echoing their lies!” Canderous growls and starts to step forward, but Carth stops him. “If the Sith are such monsters,” Shasa continues, “then prove it to us. Surely there must be some evidence of the ‘horrors’ they commit!”
“The Sith are evil, Shasa,” Carth says, “They will use you to conquer Manaan for the kolto.”
“So you say,” she says skeptically, “But why should we believe you? We need physical proof, not the words of some Republic sympathizers.”
“Give us some time, then,” I say, “We will find proof that the Sith are evil.”
Shasa seems unwilling to budge at just my word, but the others seem a bit more open-minded. “Shasa,” one says, “I think we should give them a chance to prove themselves.” The other two murmur in agreement.
Shasa hums slightly. “We will not report your presence to our Sith Masters yet,” she says, “If you bring us proof of Sith lies and torture we will return to our families and report this to the Ahto City authorities. Until then we shall stay here and continue our training in the ways of the Force.”
I nod. I doubt the same story that convinced Dustil will convince them, for any number of reasons. “Surely things are different here on Manaan than they were on Korriban,” I can hear them say, “Our Sith Masters are kind and would never outright slaughter one of us.” Which, of course they would. I have to wonder if Galas really did return home or was just killed and dumped in the ocean. Any suitable proof will be found in the hands of their Master. And somehow I know that that wasn’t the guy Canderous killed. That would be too easy.
But I also suspect that their Master will be close by. Regular close contact with these kids would be essential for the plan I’m 99% certain they have. Being absent or uncommunicative for long stretches would lead to distrust and suspicion, and they’d be far less useful and effective at the task of taking over. There are two remaining rooms here. The one on the right has nothing but medical supplies and an old bloodied coin. Selkath blood, I suspect. I wrap the coin tightly in a plain bandage. While I suspect it would mean something to Shasa, it wouldn’t mean much alone. There would almost certainly be an accusation that I killed its owner, not the Sith. And what about the body? No, the coin alone does little for me. And so, to check the room on the left. This is a training room, with a droid that I quickly zap, and a door at the back which leads to a short hallway. There’s a sign on the door at the end of the hallway: “do not disturb.” Yeah, like that was ever going to work on me. Of course I open the door.
A Selkath is collapsed on the floor. Not quite dead but almost. And the Sith master standing over him, flanked by two Selkath apprentices. The dying one looks at me. “Please, tell Shasa… the Sith…” One of the apprentices shoots the dying Selkath, killing him.
“Does ‘do not disturb’ mean nothing to you people?” the master shouts, turning around. His anger shifts to confusion upon seeing us. “How did you get in here?” he asks, “Who are— Wait.” His eyes narrow. ‘I recognize you!” Yes, yes, Revan, we know. “Lord Malak was most displeased when he learned you had escaped Taris alive.” Taris? A bit behind on the news, there, aren’t you, bud? “He has promised a great reward to whoever destroys you.”
“You guys don’t get a lot of updates here, do you?” Canderous says. Evidently thinking the same thing I was. “I would have thought Malak would have sent word to his entire army once he told you your identity.” I shrug. The master says nothing.
“Master,” one of the Selkath apprentices says, “give us the honor of aiding you in destroying this enemy of the Sith.”
“As you wish, my eager apprentices,” the Master says. but he has to know they have no chances, not with those blasters. I think the master intends to have us do his dirty work for him and get rid of the witnesses to his murder. “We shall remove these thorns from Malak’s side once and for all!”
Before they can even ready their blasters, Canderous blasts them with his, one shot each. I feel bad for them, really, they were practically dead the minute they decided they wanted in on this fight. That just leaves the master and his double-bladed lightsaber. Carth tries to split the master’s focus but it is razor sharp on me. Without even looking at him, he pushes Carth away with the Force. I try to break Carth’s fall with my own Force - no idea how well I do but I try. but after that Carth stays back. The master wants me to himself.
“So,” the master says, “this is how the great Revan fights.”
“Oh you were just pretending not to know me, then?” I grunt, pushing hard, “Did you do that so the apprentices would want to jump in or were you just playing mind games for fun?”
He swings at my head and I duck. “I must admit, your entry was well-timed. I was going to have to kill them myself before they let slip the truth about Galas. But your timely arrival took that burden out of my hands.” Galas? Wasn’t that the Selkath Shasa mentioned that went back to his family? Which obviously didn’t happen. But she doesn’t need to see the body. I can give her that.
The master brings his lightsaber down over my head and I block it. “You know,” he says. “I expected a Sith lord to be more of a challenge than this.” Shut up. “Although in hindsight I’m not surprised - Malak was able to stop you so easily after all. But I have to wonder…” He pushes hard, and while I’m able to keep his lightsaber from touching me, my knees bend under the pressure. He brings his face close, the glow of his lightsaber illuminating every pore.” …why did he let you live?”
Great question. And if Bastila hadn’t been there I wonder what would have happened. But he doesn’t want discussion. He doesn’t want the truth. He wants to get under my skin. To either weaken my resolve or get me to strike in anger, securing a kind of win in either case. And I won’t give it to him. With as much power as I can muster, I push up against his lightsaber, buying myself enough time to roll out of the way. I make eye contact with Carth. I don’t know, I just… needed to know he was still there. ‘No snappy comeback, Revan?” the master quips, “Have you nothing to say? Could it be that you doubt yourself?”
No. No I don’t. Carth smiles at me. I’m the same person I was last week. The master swings his lightsaber. I think fast. Jump as high as I can manage. And aim my landing for right on top of the master. He can’t prepare. I fall right on top of him and run my lightsaber though the back of his throat.
I take a moment to catch my breath. Carth beams at me. He doesn't say anything, but that’s okay. His eyes say enough.
Canderous scans the room, looking for evidence to show the Selkath. “Think there’d be anything on his computer?”
“Nothing useful - you never keep your secrets in plain view,” I say, “More likely he’ll have a datapad - start checking desk drawers.” I quickly frisk the corpse, which feels as weird as it sounds, to no avail. No datapad on his person.
I hear a small blaster shot as Canderous shoots the lock off a drawer. Yeah, what’s a little property damage when you’ve committed murder? “Good call,” he says, “it’s not even locked.”
“The Selkath trust him,” Carth says, “he probably didn’t see the need for two locks.”
“My thoughts exactly,” I say, taking the datapad from Canderous. I’m not about to read the whole thing, I don’t have the patience. There’s a lot of discussion about politics, the workings of Selkath government. My eyes catch the word “infiltrate”, which becomes “infiltrate the government,” and I don’t read anymore. Exactly as I figured.
I take the datapad and the coin back to Shasa and the others. They gather around me as I carefully unwrap the coin. “It doesn’t mean anything to me, but I figured it would mean something to one of you. Or at least, I should return it.”
One tenderly reaches for it, takes the wrapping. “Shasa,” xe says slowly, “…this is the pin I gave Galas when we were children. There is blood on it.”
But Shasa remains unconvinced. “You could have found this anywhere!” she says loudly, “For all we know, you killed Galas!”
“Shasa,” the first says, xer voice trembling, “I believe them. How else would they have found this pin?”
“Well, I need more proof!”
I don’t want to tell them that Galas’ body is still here. In the master’s office. “If you need more proof,” I say, holding out the datapad, “I took this from your master’s office. It details plans to infiltrate and control the Selkath government.”
Shasa swipes it from my hand, silently reading the lines I skimmed over, her face dropping with every line until she reads the phrase I stopped at - “infiltrate the government.” “I…” she says softly, betrayal dripping from her open mouth, “I cannot believe it. And yet, the evidence is right before me. The Sith wanted to use us to betray Manaan!” She shakes her head and gives the datapad back to me. “I must apologize for doubting you. The Sith are truly as evil as you have claimed.”
The other three nod, utter an agreement. Galas’ friend speaks up again - “We must report this to the Ahto City authorities!” xe says.
“Yes,” Shasa agrees, “we must report this at once. We thank you, human, for showing us the truth. You have saved us from a terrible mistake.” She gestures to the others. “Quickly, my friends - we can stay here no longer. We must flee this foul embassy and warn our people against the plot to corrupt the Manaan youth.” The other apprentices leave before her. “Rena,” she says to me, “you have shown us the way. The least I can do is guide your way. Please, come with us.”
“I’ll find my own way out,” I assure her, “Don’t worry.”
“I am not worried that you will find your way to the entrance,” she clarifies, “The laws of Manaan forbid unauthorized use of weapons, and even though this enclave is sovereign, I fear you will be taken into custody when you leave. Please, come with us. If we vouch for you, we may be able to impact the authorities, the courts.”
I smile. “Thank you, Shasa,” I say, “You are very wise and very kind. I will gladly follow your lead.”
The walk back to the elevator is silent, as Shasa leads us back the way we came. Though she is able to effectively block me from reading her, I can tell she has a lot of missed wheeling about the carnage we wrought on our way here. She may have trained with some of these Sith personally, met them, knew their names. Even knowing their plans, that doesn’t take away their personhood. She tries not to think about it.
As the elevator rises back towards the surface, I can feel the large number of Selkath gathered there, waiting to apprehend us. When it opens, a tall gray Selkath steps forward. “You there, human!” he shouts, “You are placed under the arrest of the Ahto City Civil Authority!”
Shasa steps in front of us. “Please, Captain!” she says, confident, “Allow me to explain! I will vouch for them!”
“Your companions have already explained, child,” he says, “And your testimony will be considered in court. In the meantime I must take them into custody.” He looks back at me. “You have the right to know the charges,” he says, and proceeds to explain, “Though the Sith Embassy here is considered sovereign territory of the Sith Empire,” - as Shasa said - “we have been monitoring an alarming number of weapons discharges and detonations from within the base. Inquiries to the staff of the Embassy yielded no response. It would seem that our contact had been cut. Our cameras recorded you and your accomplices entering the base shortly before contact was lost and fighting apparently began. It is the conclusion of the Ahto City Civil Authority that you are responsible for the disturbance here, and you are hereby placed under arrest. You will come with us to await your trial.”
“I will come with you,” I say, “but let my friends return to our ship. They were only following my instructions and should not be punished for my crimes.”
“Rena, don’t—!” Carth starts to say, but I hold my arm out to stop him. Turn to look at him. I’ll be okay. And if I’m not, they need to find the Star Map without me. To finish the mission.
”As material witnesses,” the officer says, “the individuals who accompany you will be detained at your vessel, and the vessel itself prohibited from leaving Manaan. My lieutenants will escort them there.” He nods at two other officers, who stand near Carth and Canderous. “We will leave. Now. Do not attempt to resist, or we shall resort to overwhelming force.” I nod, and surrender myself.
#kotor fic#star wars#knights of the old republic#star wars knights of the old republic#autistic artist#fiction#specs writes stuff#oc#rena visz#fem!revan#ls!revan#death mention tw#blood mention tw#murder mention tw#carth onasi#canderous ordo#sith#manaan#chapter 126#sith base#kotor
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I'm back ya'll!!!!
I am unbizzanned. They were basically like, "it was a glitch. MY BAD."
Like bro, it's been a month.
So, here we are again....how about a new chapter of the Shifter to celebrate within the next few days?!
If you aren't already following this account....GET ON IT. Once I get to 1k I will be doing a fun drabble event....crack fic style 😉
@theawkwardavenger @nonsensicalobsessions @purplekitten30 @lostgreekgod @roguemetalmaster13 @huntress-artemiss @midnights-ramblings @xorpsbane @ravenmailey @vbecker10 @lazulifoster @winterfrostsarmy @ada17h @lokisprettygirl22 @theaudacitytowrite @lokis-little-love @themorningsunshine @strawberry-canyon @howdidurhammergrowchris @michelleleewise @80strashbag @roseeatta @asgardianprincess1050 @jaspearl31 @ozymdias @moonlightreader649 @yelkmelk @sinsandguilt @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @all-envy-suyu
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Lokiprompts will be officially moving to this account by this weekend.
If you don’t know already, that account has been restricted for about 3 weeks with no response from @support .
I am super upset about it, especially since I was just shy of 1k followers. I work so hard and yeah, it all goes to shit. If you like my work, want to support me, following my IVF journey...whatever, give me a follow.
Here is my Unicorn tag list:
@theawkwardavenger @nonsensicalobsessions @purplekitten30 @lostgreekgod @roguemetalmaster133 @huntress-artemiss @midnights-ramblings @xorpsbanee @ravenmailey @vbecker10 @lazulifosterr @winterfrostsarmy @ada17h @lokisprettygirl22 @theaudacitytowritee @lokis-little-love @themorningsunshine @strawberry-canyon @howdidurhammergrowchris @michelleleewise @80strashbag @roseeatta @asgardianprincess1050 @jaspearl31 @ozymdias
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My beautiful, beautiful followers,
Thank you all so much for the love and kindness I have received over the past few weeks. You guys don't know how much it means to me. Writing 'I'll Be Seeing You' has been such an amazing outlet for me and the outpouring of love I have gotten from everyone has just pushed me to do even better.
I wanted to let you all know that I'm currently going through a bit of a tumultuous time. I have a family member who is very sick and because of this I haven't been able to write as much. However, I AM working on parts nine and ten for the story. Please be patient, I promise they are coming. Until then, please continue to like and reblog my little fic until I can give you all the best storyline possible. You all have done so much for my mental health and well being and I'm so grateful.
I love you, my moons.
x Elle
Taglist: @release-your-sweets, @matchat3a, @tanyaherondale, @tired-night-owl, @80strashbag, @thatblackravenclaw, @vinvantae, @bbysbreath-fvck, @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby, @lyn-soso, @unstableyetloveable, @gwenebear, @loliakeoghan23, @grxnde-dwt, @angelphase, @milkiane, @ijustcantwin, @maryseesthings, @book-worm-19, @improperfemme
#druig fic#druig imagine#druig x female reader#druig x reader#druig x y/n#marvel#druig fluff#marvels eternals#fanfic
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