#anyway i was saying that i just couldn't care for anyone in the first half of the series. maybe i was too busy to get invested
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Look Under (Stalker!Ticci Toby x F!Reader) NSFW
HEAVILY inspired by @rabbit-or-rib this idea basically came from them I just wanted to write like a detailed story about it :')
Porn without/minimal plot, reader is female, Toby is a stalker & and hides under ur bed most nights,, yeah pretty sad
Oh shit.
What the hell were you doing?
Toby's eyes widened when he heard soft noises up above, most surely from you. He wished he had some goddamned x-ray vision or something like that so he could see through the stupid bedframe above him. His eyes were practically burning holes through the wood already.
He knew hiding under your bed was a good idea. Anyone who doubted him could go fuck themselves, because now he was proven right. At first, it was to protect you, make sure you were kept safe, but now... God, please let this be what he thinks it is.
As if answering his prayers, the first hint he got was a shuddering breath. You had to be touching yourself. On cue, his jeans felt much tighter then they were before.
You let out another soft whimper, and a ginormous grin spread on his face. Oh my god. It's true. This giddy feeling spread through his entire body, mixed with disbelief to make a strange concotion of arousal and excitement. He couldn't believe it.
You were trying to be quiet, biting your bottom lip to muffle the sounds that tried to slip out. It was just really hard to though, especially with how you were rubbing circles on your clit, making shivers run up your spine.
Toby would rather die than miss up on an opportunity like this. Slowly, he unzipped his jeans, careful not to make any noise. He didn't waste a second pulling his half-hard dick out. A gasp above, and he knew you had slid your fingers in. The wet sound of your insides molding around your fingers was like sweet music to him. He quickly wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and began to stroke up. Already it felt so good, he had to bite his sleeve to prevent a shaky sigh from escaping him. He moved his other hand in time with your hand, so as to not make noise, but really, doing so also made him feel closer to you, more connected. In his heart he had already made the vow to finish with you.
You were going so slow, though. With each lethargic stroke he would go all the way up to his sensitive tip, wrap around it, and then slide all the way back down to the base. It was pretty much torture, but he purposefully made it harder for him to keep composure. He imagined slipping up, making too much noise. You figuring out he was there the whole time. But then inviting him, because you just couldn't resist. And you'll tell him how much of a pervert he is, how disgusting and deplorable and morally wrong he was.
"Mmmmm," he hummed at the thought, before immediately shutting up. Did you hear him? Please say no. His heartbeat quickened.
Thankfully, your moans covered him up. And that squelching sound made everytime you pushed your fingers in and out of your cunt.
His dick twitched in his hand; he was so unbelievably hard. But he didn't want to go faster because he was imagining thrusting into you, lining up his strokes with yours. He wished he had a pair of your underwear on him, so he could finish on them and make it a mess. That's what he usually does alone, anyways.
He could hear you getting close. You moaned louder, more unrestrained. It felt so good, especially when your fingers would rub against your clit everytime you pushed in. You were so so close.
"Fuck... oh fuck..." you whined, bucking your hips and riding into your fingers.
Toby grinned wider, the fabric of his sleeve still between his teeth. A euphoric feeling erupted in him and he felt so absolutely elated, like he could die right now and be perfectly fine with it. Actually, no, he'd be upset because then he wouldn't get to experience this.
"Oh god," you whimpered. "Please". You were about to climax, the coil in your stomach tightening to the absolute limit. You fingers went faster, plunging in quicker and hitting that one spot repeatedly.
The stalker continued, stroking himself now at a brutal pace, desperate to cum at the same time as you. Fuck, now it was starting to get good. And he wasnt going to last long, that's for sure.
You rubbed your cl*t at the same time as you curled your fingers, and you came hard, your cunt fluttering about you. A blissful, dirty feeling washed over you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head as you rode out your orgasm.
Shortly after you finished, Toby's slim fingers ruthlessly stroked faster, squeezing and circling around the painfully delicate tip, yearning so much to cum now. And honestly, it wasn't that hard, especially with the image of your cum sticky inbetween your fingers and your fucked out, panting face. With his teeth clenched so tight around the sleeve of his pullover he thought his jaw would crack, he finished, hips jerking up instinctively as he milked out all of his seed. It's warmth spilled and pooled over his shaky palm, milky white and thick. He allowed himself the tiniest of exhales through his nose, trying to breathe after such a hard orgasm. He laid there, motionless under your bed with his heart over the moon until you stepped off your bed on wobbly legs and stumbled to the bathroom. Only then did he bother to leave through the window, taking one spare glance at your ruined bedsheet before hopping out.
#ticci toby x reader#ticci toby x you#ticci toby smut#ticci toby creepypasta#creepypasta#creepypasta smut#stalker yandere#obsession#heavily inspired by#x reader#fem reader#fanfic#smut#pwp
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Some of those doctors make hating oat milk their entire personality. I hate them. Cannot pretend to find them funny or like i give a shit. Fucking pretentious assholes
#also my colleague (the girl i had my shift with) is the exact opposite of me in all aspects. asked me if I'd ever worked in customer service#because i couldn't care less about being fake friendly to assholes and don't care if they like the service or not#like bitch those people don't have any other choice but drink our fucking coffee it's not like I'm competing with anyone#or like they pay us in any way. i get paid for doing the dumb work i have to do not for stroking some dumb ass doctors' egos#they come out of their rooms once an hour to get coffee and we have the cups on the table and i wouldn't even Think of#HANDING them the cups and smiling sweetly at them and asking 'coffee? tea?? :))'#I'll just assume these grown adults will get their stupid coffee or tea when they want some. it's not like they don't know where it is#(and i AM friendly and smile when someone is coming in our direction but why the fuck do you need to get so disgustingly friendly with them#if someone held up a cup asking if i.want some coffee I'd leave immediately even if i came just for coffee. it's creepy)#anyway. she's nice. I'm not.#there's normal people who will get their coffee and maybe ask if the milk in the little jug is cow milk to which I'll happily reply 'yes#:)'. then there's the other people who see the oat milk and make it clear they are the most insufferable people on the planet#(and i pity their patients so much. not much to choose from i guess but if i had that as a doctor I'd happily just die)#like everyone who took oatmilk could do it without making a fuss about the cow milk on the table. the cow milk lovers could never#'the oat milk is in front of the actual milk. this is unacceptable. i hate such healthy bullshit' lol okay#'OAT milk?? I'll leave this to the horses! THANK GOD you have actual milk!'#my favorite was the one who really took personal offense with its sheer presence. as if it had killed half of his patients lmao#'we had 50 patients with xyz problem. ALL of them drink oat milk. they cannot see the connection. it's really unhealthy'#at this point i just said i didn't care and stopped paying attention and he started complaining to his doctor colleague about how#oat milk is advertised to be healthy and how it's actually the opposite and i just find that very funny compared to the first comment#from that one guy who doesn't like such healthy bullshit. you guys need to find a consensus on the oatmilk issue i think. no one takes you#seriously if you contradict yourself like this. also i couldn't care less about the healthiness of the milk alternative of my choice. bitch.#next week I'll end up killing someone. i hope they all die from their cow milk. (but not the ones who took cow milk and didn't say anything#about the oat milk. they can continue living as they didn't annoy me)#void screams#some of these doctors were actually quite nice (most of them even). one even brought an applicant to us telling her to get some coffee#(which we are not allowed to give to applicants. but i don't care. I'd rather they get something than some of the asshole jury members#who hate oat milk (which is not the issue. the issue is them making it everybody else's issue that they don't like oat milk))
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life update: after almost a week of immobility & a continuous day reading up on jstor and an incredible book on gothic bodies i finally found the inspiration for my paper (!) also i watched series five of dw and . um. i'm terribly sorry matt smith site but i just can't see the appeal. of course the show is still so fun to watch but i'm just not invested. turn left had me clutching blankets and pillows. doomsday got first place as the biggest cry of the year. the waters of mars fucking murdered me in cold blood
#okay i'll be fair i did like some episodes. i think the series picked up after the middle#i really liked the hungry earth / cold blood. and vincent and the doctor obviously. and the finale was really interesting#if not a bit convoluted. but that's moffat for you apparently. just found out he developed inside man which makes soooo much sense#anyway i was saying that i just couldn't care for anyone in the first half of the series. maybe i was too busy to get invested#or maybe the tennant withdrawals are not going so well#HOWEVER. i'm finally invested in river song. and i know her biggest part is yet to come so good for me hehe. also rory :)
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currently obsessed with biker!simon!!!! how do you think he and reader met? i think, whatever the situation was, he was the one that couldn't get his eyes off her and started to bluntly stare??? maybe soap was with him and laughed bc he had never saw him get this serious about any girl he had laid his eyes on 😫😫😫😫
BAE I WENT FERAL WHEN I READ THIS BECAUSE YEAH!!! YEAH
ok so this is gonna be ridiculous but bear with me because im actually so obsessed with biker!simon im unwell
simon prefers using his bike whenever he’s out with his friends. there’s no use taking his car, anyway. not with kyle hitching a ride with john, and johnny taking his own car on the few occasions that he does bring someone home with him.
simon’s never had to take those things into account because he preferred a quiet end to his nights, anyway. just a shot of bourbon and a short dinner with his friends, and then he’s back on the road and on his way home.
so he’s never had regrets with taking his bike. until today, of course.
he’s noticed you since you walked into the bar with your friends, your arm hooked around one of them and your head tilted to hear them better. the others who are not engaged in a discussion with you whipped their heads around to find an empty booth and simon almost crushed his glass at the way his heart leapt when he realized that the closest empty booth in the place was the one directly beside his group’s.
simon watched as your group moved closer, the chatter finally piercing his ears and, unconsciously, his body turned to hear you better. from in front of him, johnny’s pinched lips finally wobbled as he wheezed out a laugh, breaking simon’s focus.
“what?” simon barked out, feeling warmth creep up from his neck to his ears, half of his mind focused on the group settling behind him.
“holy shit,” johnny said mid-laughter. “you don’t know anythin’ about subtlety.”
simon grumbled then, in denial, but now he just fully stopped caring.
somehow, as the night progressed, simon gravitated towards the seat facing yours, a spot where he had a clear vantage view of you. he’s taken advantage of the change in seating, devouring the sight you make as you giggled with your friends. devouring the change in atmosphere, now that you’ve begun to return his heated looks.
it started with curious looks, born from your friend whispering to you how simon was staring; how, throughout the night, he did not entertain all those who went up beside him and focused only on you. then your gaze shifted into something scalding. something that sent liquid fire warming simon from the pit of his stomach to the back of his spine.
mactavish sighs beside him. “just buy the lass a drink already.”
simon peels his eyes away from you to look at johnny, mulling over the suggestion before grunting out a thanks. he stands up and walks to the bar, calling out to get the bartender’s attention.
remembering the bellini that you’ve been nursing since you got here, simon asks for another flute of the cocktail and requests that it be served to you. he turns when he says this, hoping to give the bartender a clear view of who the bellini is for only to blink in surprise when he sees you standing just a few feet away from him.
“sir?” the man behind the counter asks.
“sorry. just serve it here,” simon replies, his eyes still on you. there is shuffling behind him, the bartender probably leaving to whip up his order, but simon honestly doesn’t care anymore.
not when you finally shuffle close, a shy smile dancing on your lips.
“hello,” you greet, voice a hesitant whisper, and simon feels like he’s been gutted.
you’re so goddamn beautiful, it’s catastrophic.
simon thinks of how short you are, something he’s first noticed the moment you walked into the bar. it’s not like he’s surprised by the realization given that he tends to tower over anyone ever since he hit his growth spurt, but there is something unfurling in the pit of his stomach as he realizes how perfectly you fit in his arms. how easy it would be to just tuck you underneath his chin and slot himself around you.
“hey,” he finally replies, his eyes roving along your features, trying to memorize the shimmer of your lips. the long wisps of your lashes. “‘m simon.”
you giggle, introducing yourself shyly, and the sound of your laughter tickles his ears, making him weak to his knees. he mouths your name, testing it out for himself and preening when it rolls off his tongue with ease. like your name is something simon is supposed to always call.
his new favourite word.
“sorry,” you say, lifting your hand like you want to reach out and touch him, only for you to snuff out the action in your anxiousness. “i don’t, uh, come up to people i find attractive so this is really making me nervous.”
simon is aware of how good he looks – he’s proud of it even – but there is something about a pretty darling like you admitting how his looks make you nervous that sparks the desire in him to transform into something more carnal.
something more visceral.
he reaches his hand out toward you, inviting you to finally close the remaining distance between you two, and smiles when you take the offer, placing your hand on top of his palm, sending goosebumps to rise across his skin. you step into his space and simon has to stop himself from breathing you in, afraid how he’ll end up reacting when he’s taken a whiff of your intoxicating scent.
“i’ve ordered you a drink,” simon whispers, his voice a hoarse croak.
“oh,” you mumble. “thank you...”
he notes the hesitation in your words, the bubble in his chest popping as his worry extinguishes his burning desire. “you don’t have to drink it.”
“no!”
he startles at your reaction, his wide eyes staring back at your equally shocked ones.
it takes a heartbeat before the two of you are breaking off into choked laughter, your body angled to muffle your giggles on the sleeves of his sweater. simon’s heart clenches at the cute display and he curls his arms around you, pulling you close until your head is pressed on his chest.
he wonders if you can hear how fast his heart is beating.
it takes a while for the laughter to fizzle out, leaving you putty in his arms, your chin digging into his chest as you gaze up at him. simon eagerly returns your stare, his lips stretched into the softest of smiles now that he has you in his arms. he brushes your hair away from your face, warmth exploding in his chest at your happy little sigh.
“wanna leave this place with you,” you tell him and simon trembles with need.
because he wants you to come home with him too. wants to show you how a sweetheart like you deserves to be treated. how you deserve to be cherished and pampered and revered.
then, he remembers his goddamn harley.
fuck.
wait. now that he thinks about it-
“is there something wrong?” you ask, face creasing in worry at seeing his frown.
“don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” simon replies, his mind already mapping out the roads to his place. “lemme just grab my keys while you drink up, yeah?”
you nod softly, eyes fluttering close when simon leans forward to press his lips on the top of your head, before stepping away from your warmth. he watches the way you ambled towards the bar counter, carefully picking up your new flute of bellini before turning to show him that adorable little smile that simon’s starting to be addicted to and taking a small sip of your cocktail.
the wrap of your pretty lips around the straw shouldn’t stir something so carnal in him but it does and simon gulps, well aware of the sudden thirst that sucked the moisture from his throat, before turning to march towards his table.
johnny whistles out loud when simon reaches them, tipping his new glass of beer and whooping even when kyle growls how he’s being too loud. simon would’ve sided with garrick, but his patience is running thin and the need that is raging within him is gaining strength so he ignores them both to stand beside johnny.
“keys.”
“what?”
“mactavish, give me your keys.”
“...why?”
simon holds in a sigh as he watches kyle reach over to smack johnny on the back of his head. “what the hell do you think?”
john continues to ignore the group, his eyes trained somewhere on the dance floor. traitor, simon thinks.
“oh,” johnny whispers. “oh!”
he tries not to tap his foot as johnny grapples with his trousers, hitting his elbows on the edge of the table and angrily cursing in scottish, before finally fishing them out of the depths of his pockets and presenting them to simon. simon takes them with urgency, almost ripping them from johnny’s fingers, before throwing the keys of his harley to johnny and barking out his thanks.
“use protection!” johnny screams because of course he would. he’s a fucking bastard.
simon flips him off as he marches back towards you.
you look up at hearing him call your name, your beautiful face glowing as you smile at him again.
god, he’ll never tire of seeing your pretty smile.
“ready?” he asks, masking the excitable tremble of his voice with a quick cough.
“mhmm!” you reply, putting down your half-empty cocktail and clambering beside simon’s side. he presses another kiss on the top of your head, this time no longer holding back as he breathes you in, and leads you out towards johnny’s car.
next time, he’ll take you out for a bike ride.
because simon promises that there will be a next time.
starting to think if i might need a masterlist for biker!simon atp // edit: mlist!
#suns.f#biker!simon#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley x female reader#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#ask#dragonstoneshortcake#suns
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𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 — titjob
pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x assistant!reader
warnings: porn with feelings. size of reader's breasts are not described.
Giving your boyfriend's hair a trim was not in your job description. In hindsight, dating him was also not in the job description, but same as your improvised hairstylist duties, it happened anyway.
The trailer that served as his dressing room was packed with different options of outfits, laying scattered around the few pieces of furniture, his own personal belongings mixed with them. It was a mess, and you were sitting in the middle of it, straddling Eddie on the couch.
You'd been outside, supervising the venue, when Eddie came — sauntering around with no shirt under his leather jacket — and asked, specifically, for you to trim his bangs. "They're falling all over my eyes, sweetheart," he complained, flashing you those chocolate eyes, doubling in size with his dramatics, "how am I supposed to play like that?"
At first, you thought he just wanted an excuse to get you alone. "Trim his bangs" could be all but a code for "let me bend you over the nearest piece of furniture and fuck you until we're both satisfied". It wouldn't be the first time that happened, and it wouldn't be the last.
When you got there, he was actually telling the truth. You found it strange, given that Eddie himself was the only one to ever style his own hair, not trusting anyone else to do it. You figured he just needed some comfort, to steer away the anxiety that still came with performing for large crowds, and who were you to deny him that?
That was how you found yourself delicately cutting the ends of his hair, and making sure his bangs stayed just above his eyebrows, while Eddie couldn't keep his hands still. It distracted you, the way his rough hands ran over your thighs, exposed by how your skirt rode up, over your hips, drumming his fingers on them, squeezing your waist and running them down again.
He was finally relaxed when you finished. "There," you smoothed his hair with your fingers, giving them a light brush, before giving his forehead a quick kiss, "all done, baby."
As you disposed of the hand towel that sat between your bodies, careful to not let the hair in it fall, and set it on the side table, Eddie hugged your body tight, crushing you to him. You giggled and hugged him back, wrapping your arms around his neck as he scattered kisses all over your exposed cleavage.
"Thank you, angel." He mumbled into your skin. You told him it was no problem, but it felt like he wasn't even listening, too busy with the feeling of your soft skin on his face, nuzzling you like a cat. You let him have it, knowing how much he needs it. It's an unspoken language between you — more often than not, Eddie needed his hands to speak for him, and you were more than happy to listen.
With his head buried in your chest, Eddie was speaking, but it turned incoherent with how muffled it was. "What is it?"
He sighed, lifting his head a little, but still not looking up. "Wanna fuck'em."
For a moment, you fluster, heat rising from your neck to your cheeks. It was silly, that wasn't the most scandalous thing Eddie had proposed to you, but it felt intimate.
"You wanna fuck my tits?"
"Please?" He looked almost pathetic, pouting his pink lips at you, his big eyes begging. You didn't know why that was necessary — you couldn't say no to Eddie, you weren't about to start then.
"Yeah, sure." You lift his bangs from his forehead, pulling his hair a little. He followed your movement with his head, closing his eyes at the feeling. "Go ahead, sweet boy."
You share a few, deep kisses, with Eddie's arms still around you. He was already half hard in his jeans under you, the bulge touching the cotton of your panties. As he kissed you, Eddie quickly removed your top and your bra, discarding them somewhere on the floor.
Suddenly, you were flipped over, your back hitting the cushion. Your boyfriend took his time, kissing up and down your chest, lavishing your nipples with his tongue until they hardened under his touch, using his fingers to pull and pinch them, delighting on the sweet noises that left your mouth.
When he was happy with how worked up he got you, he stood up briefly to remove his pants and underwear, having already shed his jacket earlier. You took a moment to admire him — the silver piercing on his left nipple, his pale torso, his dark tattoos, the smattering of hair that ran down his chest and led into his happy trail, his thick cock heavy against his navel. It made your mouth water, but you needed to stick with what you'd promised.
You watched as he stroked himself, and learned down again, pecking your lips. His hand hadn't left his cock, the other supporting his body above you, as he looked into your eyes and asked "Are you ready?"
"Yeah. I'm ready."
A smirk was his only answer. Without much preamble, he licked a fat strip right in the valley of your breasts, and spit, letting his saliva run down the crest. Your breathing was heavy, chest heaving with anticipation, pussy fluttering between your legs, forming a sticky puddle on the fabric of your panties.
He straddled your hips, and your hands went straight to your tits, holding them for him as he slid his cock between them, setting a slow pace at first. Above you, Eddie bit his lips, eyes blown with desire, "That's it, good girl. Play with them for me."
You did as he said, caressing and pulling on your nipples as you kept them in place, and he fucked them with abandon now, hips pistoning in place, moaning his praises to you. "Look at you, so fucking pretty. The prettiest fucking girl and she's all mine. Mine to play with, aren't you? Yeah, you are. My little plaything."
You moved your hips too, desperate for some friction, but to no relief. Instead, you surged forward, pulling yourself up on your elbows, wrapping your mouth around the head of his cock, sucking on the wetness that leaked from it. Eddie almost howled, the muscles on his stomach tensing and clenching as he got closer to his climax.
"M'gonna cum, angel. Gonna cum all over your perfect tits, give you a pretty necklace. You want that, don't you? Want my cum all over you."
Releasing him from your mouth, you looked up at him, searching for his wild eyes. "I want it, baby. Give it all to me. Give me your cum."
It didn't take long until he did, spilling his seed all over your chest and neck. He stopped himself from bending on the waist with the force of it, knuckles white from holding himself with a hand on the back of the couch. You stared in awe, his brown curls a golden halo around his head, his skin flushed red, glowing with sweat.
"Fuck. That was…" He heaved. "Goddamnit, baby."
"Happy now?" You teased.
"Pleased as fucking punch."
Eddie unmounted you for a second, only to lean down again, and give you a proper kiss on the lips, putting all of his appreciation into the way he sucked your tongue into his mouth. He stood up briefly to find some tissues, cleaning you with them, and promptly settling himself on top of you again, his wandering hands finding your body again.
You were writhing under him, finally getting some relief as he let you grind on his thigh, when three harsh knocks were delivered to the trailer's door.
"Eddie, where the fuck are you?" Your boss's voice, Corroded Coffin's tour manager and glorified babysitter, cut through the haze you were in, and you let out a frustrated sigh, throwing your head back as Eddie groaned.
"I can hear you in there, man."
"I'll be right there, boss." Eddie yelled back. You could almost cry, feeling your neglected pussy wet and throbbing, needy for your boyfriend's touch.
"Go, Eddie. It's okay." You whispered, trying not be noticed.
It was his turn to sigh, kissing your forehead once again, before standing up, looking for his clothes. "I'd stay if I didn't run the risk of getting dragged out of here."
"Just promise me you'll make up for it?" You couldn't help the pitiful whine in your voice.
He smirked, eyes darkening as he slid his shirt over his head. "You're gonna regret asking for that when I'm done with you."
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson fanfic#kinktober 2023#nothing else matters
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Summary: Jade is drunk. That's it that's the story. Nah, there's some fluff and dancing with gn reader too.
(Pls reblog and leave a comment ❤)
Mostro Madness
In the midst of bright neon lights, blaring music, and a crescendo of of excited voices, you wondered if your eyes were deceiving you.
They had to be. It was the only explanation. Because the man in front of you right now could not possibly be Jade Leech
Surely, this was Floyd Leech. It couldn't be anyone else, given his current state.
Suit jacket and hat discarded, bowtie undone, shirt unbuttoned all the way down to just above his belly button, his hair an absolute mess and sticking to a face flushed red and stretched with a wide fanged smile.
Alas, Floyd was currently on the dimly lit stage to your left, singing remarkably well into the mic while swinging back and forth with a half empty glass of whiskey in hand
Therefore, unless someone had duplicated Floyd, the eel smiling at you right now was none other than Jade Leech.
Completely and utterly hammered.
"Puffball." Jade was swaying on his feet, his special pet name for you lilted and floaty on his tongue. "You look..." He giggled softly. "You look beautiful tonight."
You briefly wondered if he was pulling your leg, laughing like that, but you decided to humour him anyways.
"Thanks, Jade." You said, sickly sweet. "You look absolutely enchanting yourself, hon."
Jade's eyes widened in surprise and he covered his face with his hands, his golden eye peeking out from between his gloved fingers.
"Oh my." He slurred, giggling again. "My love is kind to me tonight."
You rolled your eyes at his sudden bashfulness. He was going to be quite embarrassed about this tomorrow (unless he decided to be happy about all that transpired) and he had nobody to blame but himself.
A friendly- if you could really call anything involving Jade friendly- drinking competition with Azul and Floyd had gone laughably awry, leaving all three of them a mess.
Azul lay spawled across one of the couches, glasses askew, with eyes as wide as saucers. He mumbled feverently to himself, ignorant of Floyd drunkenly singing on stage and Jade turning into a giggly puddle at your words.
How the twins managed to get Azul to agree to such a competition in the first place was a mystery.
Truly, the Mostro Lounge 10th Anniversary party (staff exclusively) had devolved into chaos, given the utter state of everybody else there too.
"Jade, I think you should sit down." You say, raising an eyebrow at his horribly wobbly legs.
"Hmm... nooo..?" Jade's voice slurred. "I think... I would like to dance."
"Jade, you're in no condition to walk, nevermind dance!"
Jade's smile was lopsided. "But my love, it'd the perfect time to dance. Alcohol on the tongue, a beautiful setting, romantic music in the air~"
You would hardly call Floyd snarling crude lyrics into the microphone romantic, as good as his voice was, but you hardly had the heart to say no to Jade when he looked so excited.
"Darling~" Jade gripped your hands with own. "Dance with me. Please?"
He looked at you with wide bright eyes, crocodile tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.
You sigh.
"Okay. But don't whine when you topple onto your ass and bring me down with you.'
Jade didn't reply, instead opting to let out another airy giggle and pull you to his chest.
Right hand on your back and left hand intertwined with yours, Jade led you into a messy attempt at a dance that had you swinging around with erratic janky movements.
You nearly fell over a number of times from stepping on each other's feet and knocking into people and furniture.
Jade didn't seem to mind. In fact, he looked utterly delighted. His sharp teeth were on full display, mouth stretched in a genuine happy smile as laughter bubbled from his chest.
It was a Jade that was on cloud nine, happy and free of care. He wasn't blackout drunk, oh no, but he was close. Enough to let go of his carefully crafted facade for a short while, surrounded by friends and loved ones.
Suddenly Jade picked you up and spun you in a circle, grinning at your shriek of surprise.
He came to a sudden stop and pulled you close once more, stroking your cheek cheek his thumb.
"I love you so much, my little puffball.' He whispered. "More than any mushroom in the world."
-End
......................................
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! I like the idea of Jade calling his s/o mushroom pet names so you're his Puffball hehe
Tagging: @krenenbaker @jadeleechisagoodboy @jaylleoo14 @hoboyherewego @officialdaydreamer00 @dadofdisappointment and @azulashengrottospiano @honey-milk-depresso for the Azul cameo ;)
#jade leech x reader#octavinelle x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#jade leech#octavinelle#twisted wonderland#floyd leech#azul ashengrotto#writing#one shot
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What are your thoughts on guardians vol.3? (If you have watched it) I went into it, expecting it went to the garbage like the rest of the mcu, but I was pleasantly surprised by its creativity, trope subversion, and how it wrapped up the previously unresolved arks of its characters.
That's what I've heard!
The thing is, Guardians 3 could be the most transcendent work of cinema ever made, and I'd probably still feel little to no motivation to watch it at this point. It's not Guardians's fault - it's just suffering from the same problem that superhero comics have been struggling with for decades: no matter how good an individual arc or run is, absolutely nothing good lasts or matters in the long term, and the stories are shaped in such a way that "the long term" is the only thing anyone gets to build towards.
Whenever I complain about the MCU I get a handful of people loudly complaining about my complaining, with the general thesis that if I don't like it I shouldn't watch it or talk about it - if I'm not having fun, just stop engaging with it. And the thing is, I have. I am intellectually interested in why this massive franchise is fumbling the bag so hard, which is why I still check in on it sometimes, but I've long since stopped turning to the MCU for uncritical entertainment. And even the good movies or shows with a lot of interesting ideas - good character arcs, fun concepts, interesting planting for future payoff - don't draw me in anymore, because they're hooked into a massive moneymaking machine that will scrap and squander anything if they think it'll make them more in the quarter. It doesn't matter how good the writing is, because the writers are not allowed to tell a complete, finished story, and they have no control over what happens to their characters outside of their own script.
Captain America's arc was set up from literally minute one to answer one burning question at the core of his character: does a world without a war still need Captain America? After that incredibly basic tee-up at the end of First Avenger, half a dozen movies failed to come up with a reason to say "yes," and now Steve is retired for good after getting fumbled through four different storylines that couldn't even pretend that they needed him (the unused Chekhov's Phone from the end of Civil War still haunts me). The foundational arc of his entire character never happened because nobody bothered to keep track of it past a single movie.
Taika did something interesting with Thor in Ragnarok - take away Mjolnir, force him to recognize what it means to be the god of thunder, give him a very Odin-y missing eye - and the very next movie undid all of it. Just kidding, never mind, here's an eye and a new weapon and also his old weapon again, and in one more movie we're even gonna give him his hair back, probably as an apology for all the completely unironic fatphobia we're gonna slather him in for two and a half hours. I'm not even surprised Love And Thunder was such an overblown mess that barely took itself seriously - why would Taika bother trying to give Thor another arc when the powers that be will just roll it back in six months anyway?
I hear Rocket Raccoon has a fantastic arc in this movie. That's great, and demonstrates that he's being written by a writer that deeply cares about him. But he's part of the MCU, and the MCU doesn't let anything end, so if current patterns hold, Rocket is going to continue to serve as quippy plushie-bait for the next dozen movies and none of that depth is going to come through in the long term. Hell, since they're making Kang noises for the Next Big Threat and Kang's entire gimmick is rewriting timelines, literally none of this is guaranteed to matter. By next year, it might not have even happened anymore.
The MCU has successfully shaped itself into a paradigm where the bright spots of good writing are overridden and lost as soon as the writers room turns over, and that makes it really hard for me to muster up the enthusiasm to watch even a really good movie that's locked into the exact same grist mill as everything else. I'm glad people liked it, I hope it gets to stay good this time - I just have no desire to watch it.
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I might make some people mad, but I'm gonna say it, anyway.
So, Ceroba's reason for choosing Chujin over Star was because she wanted someone more mature. At least, that's my understanding. Star was playing cowboy and role-playing with his friends while she wanted to settle down and raise a family.
And... yeah, Star had a lot of growing up to do. And he did almost none of it until Ceroba stopped him from shooting us.
Star's main character flaw is his ego, but it's even worse than just an ego. Half the reason he set up the Wild East was to help everyone else. He wanted to bring in money to help his family when the Swelterstone's effects caused a drought; he wanted monsters to get a taste of what the surface is like so they don't drown in despair; and he wanted to make Ceroba happy after she lost both her husband and her child. All of this on top of feeling like he was a "nobody farmer" that couldn't do anything or help anyone.
So Star's primary character flaw isn't as simple as just having a big ego. His primary character flaw is trying to fix others as a way of fixing himself.
Sometimes this is a good thing, tho. I often think of Star as the "papa" of the Feisty Five. He's the protective one, he's the one teaching them ethics (reminding Mooch that they're not supposed to be bandits, playing dead to teach Clover about the responsibility of potentially hurting someone), he takes care of the town, he's made ALL his own money from this town that he built himself (enough that Mooch wants his inheritance, so it's a sizeable amount), he even gave his posse a designated nap time, gave Ceroba a home (and possibly gave her his bed while he crashes on the couch), sews his own clothes, set up all the rules and regulations... and I could go on, but I think I've made my point. Star is not wholly irresponsible. He's not perfectly responsible- he, and the rest of the posse, have a habit of breaking and losing Blackjack's weapons, they're all loud and rowdy, and they have a tendency to forget to turn off their boulder machines out in the Dunes.
So, yeah, Star does still have some growing up to do. But he's got a good start.
As for... everything that went wrong... That was entirely due to Star's worship of humanity. Star fell in love with westerns and with the justice and overall sense of romance that they portrayed, so much so that he not only tried to make himself into one of his western heroes, but he then extended this worship to the first human to ever set foot in the Dunes- namely, Clover. And because of this, Star completely threw everything that was good about himself out the window. He sees a human an immediately decides "this is my deputy," without even really giving Clover a fair chance to see if they even are deputy material. He forgot the safety glasses, got so worked up he forgot how to pronounce "duel," became extremely temperamental, apparently forgot that Vengeful Virgil was scheduled for the train mission that day, locked up a Royal Guard against her will (arguably committing treason in doing so, I might add), and just generally began running over everyone's words and emotions, including Ceroba's.
So when it came down to the Showdown... Star blamed Clover. Star's not an idiot. He knows good and well it's not Clover's fault. It's Star's fault- or more precisely, it's his worship of humanity that is to blame. But the problem is, he's taken it upon himself to guard the feelings of other monsters, to make them feel hope and joy. And he just screwed up and stole all that from them. So he's conflicted, not willing to admit that he has done the exact opposite of everything he set out to do. And since it's his worship of humans that led him to this point, he decides to blame the human.
Hence, the Showdown.
But he doesn't want to do it. He says himself, "Monsterkind's Hero is a title soaked in blood." He loves humans. And he sees Clover as a friend. He doesn't want to kill them. He's not a killer, and he doesn't want to be one. He doesn't believe in it. Justice is one thing, but... how is it just to kill someone that did nothing wrong?
So. Here's where Ceroba comes in. Telling Star he needs to calm down and go back to who he used to be. And Star points out that she's changed, too. Even Ceroba says, before taking Clover to the Steamworks, that she doesn't know if she has room to tell Star to go back to the Starlo she used to know.
Ceroba, tho, is no different than Star (this is the part that I said might make some people mad). Ceroba worships Chujin just as much as Star worships humans.
Ok, look. Chujin was a great craftsman. He built so much- furniture for Dalv, his and Ceroba's house, the space heater at the Honeydew Resort, many other items in use throughout the Underground, Kanako's toys (even programmed a video game for her), and so much more. So much that even Star respects him for all that he did for everyone.
However, there is also much that indicates that Chujin wasn't the best at his job. His only award is "You Tried at Engineering," and it took 14 tries for him to build a working robot. In Chujin's defense, I will say that it is impressive that he did build a working, sentient robot without the use of a SOUL, which is how Alphys made both Mettaton and Mew Mew; however, if Chujin is really such a genius, why did it take 14 tries to get Axis to work, when it apparently only took 1 try for Guardener?
And then Chujin didn't just stop with robotics, but went on to SOUL research. Two completely different fields. (And before anyone starts commenting on Alphys, I just want to point out, yet again, that both of the robots she built did use SOUL power; so, realistically, Alphys never was a great robotics genius, but rather, everything she did was a part of SOUL research- hence, the reason Asgore hired her as the Royal Scientist). But Chujin decided to press on with his SOUL research, despite there being no indication anywhere that he had ever done any such research before.
Now, I'm not trying to say that Chujin wasn't remarkable or a genius. I'm just pointing out some things that indicate that maybe he wasn't quite the genius that Ceroba wanted to make him out to be. And... Ceroba's reaction to his "You Tried" award. She's proud of him. More pride than what is warranted by such an award.
Ceroba said she met Chujin when he pretty much rescued her after she twisted her ankle, fell into a ditch, and laid there for several hours, unable to move. She also said that she had considered dating Starlo before meeting Chujin. So... hate me for this if you want to, but I feel like she may not have the best judgement when it comes to guys. Now, that's not to say she picked losers or creeps. Both Chujin and Starlo were/are sweethearts that care deeply about everyone around them. But the fact remains that Ceroba left behind the guy that she'd known all her life for a guy she just met, just because he rescued her from a bad situation.
And I'm not even saying she made a bad choice! By all accounts- including Ceroba's, Martlet's, and even Starlo's- Chujin was a good, kind-hearted, hard-working monster, and a wonderful husband and father. But... he wasn't perfect. And I think Ceroba, even though they had to have been married at least 10 years, just always had stars in her eyes where he was concerned. He was her everything. She believed he could do no wrong. She believed it so strongly, she was willing to do... many horrible things.
Ceroba's drive to kill Clover started with her love for Chujin. She wanted to do anything to keep him alive in her own heart. And when their child begged and pleaded for a chance to help, Ceroba agreed, because Kanako woshipped her father, too. Ceroba's misguided belief in her husband guided her to do things she would never have done otherwise.
Thus the reason for her guilt. It's not just guilt over killing her own child. It's also guilt over knowing that it was her own misguided worship of a monster that wasn't as perfect as she thought he was, that this was what led her to kill, and to kill again.
Ceroba worshipped Chujin. Just as Starlo worshipped the ground Clover walked on, Ceroba worshipped the ground Chujin walked on.
So when people point to Ceroba's comment that Starlo didn't grow up... yeah. She's right. Starlo needed to grow up.
But so did Ceroba.
One of the hardest parts of growing up is realizing that the people you worship are just people. They make mistakes, and you, yourself, are mistaken for believing they can do no wrong.
So, anyway. There's as much Staroba (Starfox, I call them) hatred as there is love for the ship. I've seen both sides of the argument: Starlo isn't mature enough; Ceroba is insane. Yeah. You're both right. And that's why they're perfect for each other. They both made the mistake of changing everything they were in an effort to continue worshipping their idols. They both went nuts. They were both driven to kill. This is the inherent danger of idolatry, believing so much in something that isn't real, that you will do anything to make it stay real to you.
#undertale yellow#starlo#ceroba#clover#my analysis#character analysis#starfox uty#chujin ketsukane#kanako ketsukane
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okay okay i’m requesting it: leo valdez x mortal!gf if you so please
⋆⭒˚.⋆ leo valdez x mortal! reader hcs
content: leo valdez x mortal! reader hcs
warning: angsty angst, mentions of major character death
author's note: can't tell if i hate these or love them???? i think im just so attached to the first two mortal! reader hcs that the leo and frank ones are falling short lmao- i've got good ideas for the part twos tho, so it's okay, ig??? anyways, enjoy or don't, we don't really care [as]
leo knew he was toast the moment he walked into that english class
there was no way he was gonna pass this class, despite the fact that he desperately need to in order to graduate
he had fleeting thoughts of not needing a high school education to save the world but then you walked into the class
and leo was going to stay in the class if it cost him his life
he couldn't just let a pretty girl like you slip out of his fingers
even if it did mean he had to read shakespeare and allen poe
totally worth it when he went pleading to you for help, rambling about how you were the top of the class and about how he needed to pass
you gave in to the cute boy easily, offering to meet with him at a nearby diner to study together
originally, it had truly started out as studying
but as the meetings became more frequent, the homework was slowly left behind and the meetings were relabeled as 'dates'
you guys made a pair like never before
you meshed well together, talking like you'd known each other for eons and centuries and lifetimes unknown to you
leo would even dare to say it was a match picked out by aphrodite herself but didn't want to jinx it
and he didn't like to think about the gods and that whole mess of his life when he was with you
with you, he was just leo, the boy who was good at math but painfully bad at english
he was leo, your darling boyfriend, not leo, the repair boy or some demigod hero
he felt a guilt settle into his stomach at every half truth or silver lie he told you
you'd ask questions about why leo's hands were always so warm and how he got to be so good at mechanics, but he'd always just brush these off with jokes or distracting kisses
it was for your betterment, he'd always tell himself afterwards
you didn't need to be burdened with gods and monsters
leo'd never do that to you, his darling girlfriend
not willingly, anyways
he should have known it was too good to last
he should have sat to face the door, just in case
he should have told you everything, prepare you for what was about to walk through the door of the diner that had become the birthplace of what you were sure was the love of your lifetime
and it would end up being the only love of your lifetime, a life cut shorter than it should have been
leo wasn't prepared for a empusa to walk into this space he'd built with you, this space he thought to be untouchable
but he should have known better
and, more than anything, he wished he grabbed the napkins that day
at least, then he'd be the first to run into the empusa...not you
poor, unprepared and unsuspecting, you
leo couldn't really remember what happened next, either because he blocked it out or really it was all that much of a blur
one second youre on your typical tuesday date in the diner and the next leo was on the ground of the diner, his hands pressed into your bleeding wounds as he desperately begged for someone - anyone - to call for help
and you had looked so, so confused, clinging to leo, your precious boy, like your life depended on it
which it did
and leo wished he could sooth all of it, the pain and the confusion
he wished he hadn't left you in the dark, told you, warned you, prepared you
and as you died in his arms, leo wished his godly blood away, as it had only ever brought him heartache
first his mother
now you
what good was being part god if everyone around you dies?
what good was being part god if you couldn't save those who matter most?
that night, leo made one last wish, squeezing your cold palms against his warm ones and pressing his forehead against your blood smattered one.
he wished to find you, next time, in the next life, and the one after that and every single life he got after those
because, maybe, finally, he'd get lucky and be able to keep you around for longer
to love you for longer, in the way you deserved
#postcards from covey ౨ৎ#all my love ౨ৎ#pjo#hoo#heroes of olympus x reader#pjo fandom#leo valdez x reader#leo valdez#leo valdez x you#leo valdez x oc#leo valdez x y/n#heroes of olympus#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo hoo toa#tlh
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Lap Cat - Aone x Reader
Just a lil something I couldn't get out of my brain - 1,4k
Aone is a lap cat.
You know the moment you meet him, even though you can’t point out what had given it away.
It surely isn’t the way he keeps his voice to himself and uses his glares as a way of talking. Or the way he overestimated the weight of the door or underestimated his own strength and ripped your office door out of its handles on his first day.
He’d been the talk of the town for a whole month.
-
“Aone-san,” you called out at the end of the morning briefing. “Do you have a minute?”
He nods and follows you out and up the stairs into your office on the first level.
You wonder what he thinks of you, in your nice business suit with the air-conditioned office. If he looks down on you like some of the other workers do because you’re one if not the youngest building designers in the company. You don’t think he does, but he’s hard to read.
“I’ve noticed you are very diligent in your work.” You explain to him. “And this part is very difficult to master. I’d love it if you could double-check the work, especially if you end up working on a different part. I don’t want to call anyone lazy, but I’ve been told that we’ve consistently had trouble keeping up with the plan for these structures and I want everything to be okay. I-”
“It’s okay.” As always, the deep timbre of his voice surprises you. You wish he’d talk more often.
“Great. I’ll be here all day. And tomorrow too and the day after that as well. So you can come in whenever to let me know, okay?”
He nods, having used up all his words already. He leaves you shortly after, but not after an awkward pause where you try not to babble and he stares intently at the little pink bows adorning your stilettos.
-
You’re in the middle of unpacking your lunch Bento when there’s a knock on the door.
“Come in!”
Aone’s face is smeared with dirt. His clothes are stained too, but his hands are clean as they offer you a piece of paper.
You take it and inspect it. He’s made a checklist for the area you mentioned. Your heart lurches at this careful work.
“Thank you!” You doubt your smile can express even half of your gratitude.
His ears are red. He’s probably gotten a sunburn from working outside all morning.
“Do you…” You hesitate. “Do you want to share lunch? It’s cooler in here and I wouldn’t mind.”
He looks at the pretty but uncomfortable chairs in front of your desk and back to his dirty, stained clothes.
“Don’t mind it.” You rush to say. “Please, sit. I will go and get something to drink from the machine outside.”
“Let me.” He says and you freeze, spellbound by his voice - again.
-
Soon you find yourself spilling your thoughts over eggrolls, rice and two cans of sparkling water.
You babble when you get nervous and he sure as hell makes you nervous.
“It’s so nice to have someone with me when I eat.” You tell him when he gets up, no doubt to leave for his work again. “I mean, I can eat alone, no problem, I do that at home too. I mean I have a kitten there, but he’s the quiet type. It just gets a little lonely around lunch when I have to work by myself all the time anyway. You probably don’t have that problem, because you’re so many workers all working together all day and then you have lunch break together too, but if you want to cool down for a bit, feel free to come up here for Lunch Break.”
“Thank you.” He interrupts your babbling, bowing so abruptly you’re left speechless - a rare occurence.
“Oh no, I have to thank you.” Now you’re bowing too and it’s only your colleague passing by that saves the two of you from bowing in turn until one gives up.
-
Kenji curls up on your lap that night as you tell him of your day.
He’d been a stray, a tiny ball of fur and teeth, only slowly learning that you did not mean any harm. He’s not the best listener, occasionally digging his claws into your thighs as he either disagrees with you or does not care about your opinion. But he’s yours and you’d be even lonelier without him.
-
You don’t see Aone for another week. Well, you spot him during morning briefings, a quiet presence at the back of the room, but you don’t come across him other than that until it’s Monday and you only find out that you’ve left your Lunch at home when it’s time to unpack it.
It’s pouring outside and you’re dressed for sunshine to the point that not even a borrowed umbrella will keep you warm or dry during the trek down to the Konbini and back again.
But going hungry is even worse.
You run into Aone right at the entrance, raindrops creating little patterns in the dirt on his face.
He holds a can of sparkling water in one hand and a Bento Box in his other.
“Oh, Aone. Hello!” You smile up at him. “Are you taking your Lunch inside? Do you want to come up to my Office? I’ve turned my heater on, actually, because I run cold easily.”
He looks down at the Umbrella in your hand.
“Oh, I forgot my Lunch at home. I’ll just run down to the Konbini and get some, but feel free to go up and get warm.”
His eyes travel down to your feet, where your painted nails peek out of a new pair of high-heeled sandals.
“What do you need?” He asks. “I am already wet.”
“Oh, I can’t.” He hands you the sparkling water. You take it, too surprised to refuse it. He takes your umbrella and hands you his Lunch.
“What do you need?” He repeats again. There’s something in his voice, at least that’s what it must be, that makes you open your mouth and answer.
He nods and turns to leave, leaving you behind with his Lunch and his drink.
-
There’s a blanket resting on one of the chairs. Aone is the only one who uses it, and drapes it over the chair to make sure he doesn’t get it dirty.
Aone is a lap cat. He wants to be asked, he wants to be offered. He does not ask himself.
You get his phone number so you can text him every day, letting him know what you’ll be taking for Lunch. He never stands up an invitation.
So you invite him to walk to the train station with you. He holds your umbrella, nodding along as you talk about your day.
“Where do you live, Aone-san?” You ask, nibbling on the inside of your cheek as you debate if that question is too forward. You don’t even know his first name yet, even though you long to.
You almost miss his answer, too absorbed in the sound of his voice. He does not live far from you.
“Are you taking the train as well? We could sit together.” His face changes into something that looks like disappointment.
“But we don’t have to!” You try to mend whatever mess you’ve just created.
“I have practice.”
“Practice?”
“Volleyball.”
“Ooooh! Can I come watch?”
The faintest blush covers his cheeks at your question. You’ve never seen it before, but you could get addicted to that sight.
“They would think you are my girlfriend.”
“I wouldn’t mind that.” Your face burns as you realize what you’ve just divulged.
“I don’t mean- I wouldn’t ever pressure- You don’t have to feel-”
Aone interrupts your blabbering, but not with words. He stretches out his incredibly long arm, offers his hand to you in a wordless answer.
You take it, your heart beating so loud you fear he can hear it.
-
Aone is a lap cat.
Just like Kenji he craves your touch, your presence, being near you whenever he can.
But quite unlike Kenji, he does not mind when you roll over in your sleep and kick your leg into his shins. He does not dig his fingernails into your skin - and if he does, he does it lovingly.
He’s as much a quiet presence in your home as your cat, making lazy Sunday Mornings so much sweeter.
My Kofi if you want to tip me
#my writing#Dira writes#Haikyuu x reader#Haikyuu fluff#Aone x reader#Aone Takanobu#Aone fluff#Haikyuu Timeskip
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"Propose," for @bamsara
HI YOUR DOODLES INSPIRED ME HERE'S A POETRY ATTACK. rambling below the cut.
At first, the death waltz is a misstep.
A sickening skeletal crack, a shape of an invisible scythe.
Sincerity is too kind a lie, but His sacrosanct
Protection (you think)
Lets you rise once more.
Death cannot keep you, but you would let Him
If he welcomes you.
You only believe what He thinks you should know.
The flames engulf you after the smoke does,
But your soul has nearly shed its corpse when you see them.
You stand in the vast chain-bound sanctuary and breathe
Fully (your lungs don’t remember being choked).
It is the first of a fitful of
Scorn and surprises and bone fingertips pressed against your skin.
He helps you to your feet.
Your heart should not beat here. In the infiniteness of your bosom it awakens.
The very semblance of the jagged-bare flesh
Encircling your neck is an intimacy in itself.
The blissful torment of the swordsman’s blade
Releases (so close to peril)
And He is already in your periphery.
Call it duty. Call it love.
Choose it as the last decision you’ll ever make.
Fate’s a tarot pull. You draw your card with eyes sealed shut.
You are a disgraced, depraved approximation of a person.
The chill of his embrace is warmer than the hands
That build the bonfire. It is in the name of
Someone (you shan’t say who)
And in the ashes of your grief your reflection
Stares back with three eyes.
The temptation to burn yourself seeps out,
Ichor-like. You don’t die tonight, not yet.
A careful drip of poison. The aftertaste of iron
In your mouth: communion seeping into your own goblet.
A moonshine moment of annihilation, however brief
Before (infectious, echoing, comforting)
You bleed out. You hope you die today.
He hopes you die today. It’s an
Ambrosial veil between you.
You slip beneath it with a sweet hello.
It’s never quite intentional until
The myths surrounding Him fall away.
The secrets you keep are shared, kept safe
Until (your reunion, this time, was not quite an accident)
They are intertwined: you are inescapably
Lonely and in your separate spheres
You vie for dominance. It’s a furious, bloodsoaked rendezvous.
It was always He who waited, but you’ll be patient.
He feels you in every dream. You
Stop time with your voices.
It’s His frustration melting away
With your kisses (you’re not there yet)
And makes Him yours, in freedom,
Dependent on nothing nobody you himself
The fetters are invisible but you hear them
Rattling every time your heart beats.
Your breath need not return anymore so you
Relearn to dodge the aim of an arrow, the pierce of a blade.
Living is foul, a promise half-hidden,
Desperate. (It lingers on your tongue.)
Death bound you together. You know how to die.
You have to remind yourself that heaven lays barren.
It will not hold you
Should Death keep you apart.
Get appreciated idiot /pos /lh
So, this was inspired by this post, which was super wholesome and sweet, but I couldn't write this without infusing it with the urgency and anxiety and sense of danger that looms over The Rehabilitation of Death. Bits and pieces of references to your AU are sprinkled in throughout. I hope you (and my readers and your readers as well) enjoy picking apart the themes here!
I actually wrote this live on stream last night! I made sure none of my friends were streaming before I started because I didn't want to miss anyone if someone was already live, but then you started streaming like 10 minutes later and I was like FUCK now I wanna watch you. But after a couple of hours on my new extra-hard CotL save (OUCH), I switched to writing and just... hoped you wouldn't pop in because I wanted this to be a surprise. For most of the writing part of the stream this poem was titled "IF SARA STOPS STREAMING SEND ME A WARNING."
Anyway, we don't usually get to talk more than a couple times per week because we both have Shit To Do, but you are SO FUN to be around and I am so so glad I met you!! Your friendship is a blessing and your creativity is a gift.
Also posted to AO3 as onethirdofimpossible here!
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does it have to be angst? i was gonna ask for married levi/reader with kids post war but 🥺🙏🏻 for angst maybe it could be about his injuries, with reader giving comfort?
Providing Comfort {Levi Ackerman}
A/n: thank you for requesting. Generally you can request whatever you want but I don't think I would actually write the request with him having kids. Anyways. I hope you like the comfort one.
Pairing: Levi Ackerman x gn!reader
Trigger warnings: mentions of injuries, self doubt, low confidence, mentions of not liking oneself, mentions of painkillers
You knew the first months after the war were going to be the most difficult ones. It wasn't just because of the fact that everyone would have to get used to the new world but also because of the trauma everything had left behind.
"Just give me another... one of those little damn things." Levi groaned and despite your attempts to help him lie back down on the bed, he sat back up.
"Aspirins?" You let out a sigh and sat next to him.
The most difficult part in reality was trying to help the most stubborn man you knew with getting accustomed to his new daily life. For better or for worse, Levi refused to follow or at least understand the orders the doctor had given him. On one hand, it was understandable; he was used to constantly moving, training, going on expeditions and fighting, there was no way he could accept laying in bed all day in order to heal his injuries. On the other... it saddened you. He was colder than he had ever been, barely talking to anyone and when he did, his words cut deeper than any knife.
"Whatever that is. Just give it to me."
He had started making progress though, you had to admit at least that. In the beginning he wouldn't even tell you when or where he was in pain. It was like a guess game, you would squeeze his knee and pray the pain was too much for him to try and hold back any groans or expressions.
Most of the times it worked.
Then he figured out that he could take aspirins whenever he was in pain and ever since then he refused to let them go. But the doctor's visit yesterday had left him with zero options than to stop taking them.
"The doctor said no, Levi."
"Couldn't care less."
And you couldn't do much about it either. Even batting heads with him felt strange since having been under his command for so long usually meant him giving the orders and not vice versa.
"Maybe doing the exercises the doctor told you would help with the pain... just saying." A small awkward pause followed, small enough to feel as if centuries had passed until Levi shook his head. It didn't need a lot of thinking to figure out why he refused.
The following days after the war ended, Levi and who knows how many others were in the hospital. Unlike some people and like others, Levi didn't get out of there unscathed. The only injury he had partly accepted was his missing fingers which was both because it occured before the war started and also because he proved to himself that he can still do everything just perfect without having all five fingers.
Neither you nor him understood how you came to live with each other but unbeknownst to you, it was more of a comfort than a nuissance to him. However, he still had his... issues. The last thing he wanted was an old member of his team to see him at his worst. Not even Erwin had achieved something like that.
"I can help. I promise it will only help with the pain."
As much as he hated it, it wasn't as if he had much of a choice.
"All you had to do was ask."
Helping him with his exercises didn't take more than half an hour. Levi was a perfectionist and you knew it. He wasn't doing it to get the pain to go away but to prove to himself that he was in charge of his body. All of his life consisted of constantly proving something to himself.
"Are you planning on nagging me about it?" He reached out for the hot cup of tea you had prepared for him with a sigh.
"Maybe." You replied with a smile.
He had made much more of a progress than you had imagined. Not once had you imagined you'd see him finally relax his shoulders and lean back on the couch comfortably, holding his cup of tea in his peculiar way.
"Go on then."
It would take much more time to completely open up to you, let you provide him with proper comfort but for now and for the past few weeks, he was fine with you talking his ear out. It kept him mind off the pain and in one way or another it felt more comforting than the warm cup of tea he was holding.
#levi ackerman x reader#levi x reader#levi attack on titan#levi ackerman#levi x you#aot levi#snk levi#levi aot#captain levi#levi attack on titan x reader#attack on titan levi ackerman x reader#attack on titan levi x reader#aot levi x reader#aot levi ackerman x reader#aot levi ackerman#levi comfort#attack on titan x reader#aot x reader#snk x reader#captain levi x reader#captain levi ackerman#captain levi ackerman x reader#writing#anime and manga#anime#manga
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Why Can't You Stop Part 2 (NSFW)
Sociopath!Ethan Landry X Innocent!F!reader
W/C - 1.5 K
Summary - You've started to notice some recent chnges in Ethans behavior towards you and he can't help but watch you from afar.
Warnings - Making out, kinda foreplay but like nothing happens, fluff, kinda smut, angst, stalking, perv ethan, inno but kinda bimbo y/n, blood and gore, underage drinking, mentions of stalking
A/N - I'm open to requests guys!
*first part
*last partt (COMING SOON)
You couldn't deny it, ever since that moment on your porch with Ethan, everything has been awkward, well for you anyways. Ethan hasn't said a word and it's been three weeks since everything happened. You wanted him to talk to you about it.
"Y/N, what's up? you've been awfully quiet today." Tara notes, everyone at the dinner table then looks at you, all the conversation in the dining room coming to a complete stop. You hated how he was just sitting there and having a conversation with anyone but you.
"Nothing, it's just...there's someone on this table who won't even fucking talk to me, and I don't know what the hell I did!" You half yell. Ethan's eyes go wide in shock as he squirms in his chair. You get up and sigh. "I'm tired, I'm going home, bye guys."
"Oh, bye..." Mindy trails off, as you start to leave and start to close the door, someone's doc martins stop the door from fully closing. "Ethan, please, just leave me be." You say and he chuckles.
"You know I could never do that." He says in a dark tone as he starts to walk with you. "Look, about me not taking to you...you're a distraction Y/N, a big one and there's some big shit going on and I can't date you, it'll get in the way of everything."
"You could've told me that two or possibly one week ago, but now! I thought I did something wrong! I thought I fucked up and you hated me! But no, it's because your too worried about some big thing you have going on!" You rant, you didn't even care how selfish that sounded to yourself. He should've told you.
"Look, I know, but let me walk you home." He asks and you nod. You were terrified of New York streets at night, all the alley ways and homeless people who your parents taught you that they'll kidnap you if you're walking on the streets alone at night. Horrible plan really, now your terrified of them in general.
The rest of the walk to your little apartment is silent, until you get to the door. "Shit, I forgot my keys and Chad is staying over at Sam's, can I chill here?" Ethan asks. You slightly grimace at the idea of him staying over. You don't want him to kiss you and never talk to you for ages again. You nod your head and open the door.
Why couldn't Ethan just stay over at Sam's as well? "I was probably just going to watch a movie, if you wanted to join, you could...if you wanted too." You say to Ethan as you shift on your feet, the tension thickening in the air.
"Yeah, sure! Thanks for the offer." Ethan smiles and you smile awkwardly. As you both get settled in on the couch, you play a random movie as you both are on the other ends of the couch, furthest away from each other. "Look, Y/N, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have ghosted you and I certainly should've talked to you."
You sigh a little and he moves closer to you on the couch and grabs your hand. He slowly starts to caress the back of your head with his thumb lightly. "You really should've." You squeak. He pouts a little and then shifts his position so he's facing you directly. He then moves his hand up to your cheek, watching you carefully. Unwantedly, butterflies flutter in your stomach making you regret everything about this decision. His face slowly leans in and closes the gap of space between you both and his lips meet yours.
You kiss him back and let the pleasure take over you. He cups the back of your neck, and he slides his tongue across your bottom lip, slowly but surely, earning a light moan from you. You were going insane, he touches you, treats you like a precious piece of stone and then degrades you when he feels like it. And some reason why, you lusted for it, every bit of attention he could give you wanted. As he lightly pulls of his shirt and then starts to unbutton yours, you grab his neck and kiss his jawline.
As your shirt is fully of your body, Tara slams the door open with Chad, Mindy and Anika and she screams "Party time Y/N! Shit- Sorry did I interrupt something?" You and Ethan scurry off each other and just like that, his other side hides away again. You weren't ready for the next moments of the day.
You got ready in your room with Tara and Mindy, Anika was getting snacks in your kitchen. "So, are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?" Mindy says. "Yeah, Ethan's boner." Tara laughs and I stare at her wide eyed. Mindy laughs a little. "When? When did this start? We need details"
"I don't know, a couple weeks ago he came to my apartment and we kissed." You shrug. Mindy looks shocked and Tara looks confused. "Wait- virgin, shy, would never kiss a girl, Ethan?" Mindy asks and I nod. "But he wasn't like that, he was brave, endearing and kind of psychotic."
"That's crazy." Anika says, walking in with a bowl of chips. "No, cause like he doesn't seem like that kind of guy."
You smile a little and nod. "He really doesn't." You smile.
You all arrive to the party, everything becoming a blur as a red cup gets placed in your hands and quickly gets switched out for a new one once you've finished.
After a while, you start to notice a blonde guy in the corner, taking a slow interest in you, staring at you, biting his lip when he looks at you and he slowly starts to walk his way over. "Hey, wanna dance?" The guy asks, you shake your head, having a slight feeling that you know how this is going to pan out.
"No thank you, I'm just going to stand here and wait for my boyfriend." You lie, it wasn't a full lie, you were waiting for Ethan, and you wanted to talk to him about what you guys were. Someone's hands crawl around your waist and a pair of lips attach to your neck.
"Hey babyy." Ethan slurs from behind you, "Please don't give my girlfriend anymore trouble bro, or tomorrow morning there'll be an ice pack on your face." The guy puts his hands up in the air defenselessly and walks away. You giggle lightly and turn around and you wrap your arms around Ethan's neck. Your lips meet with Ethan's and you couldn't contain yourself to a slight moan as the alcohol or your reaction to all this fizzles in the pit of your stomach.
You smile as you pull away and smirk, "Want to ditch and go back to my place?" He asks and you shake your head. "Nope, I'm here for Tara and the girls, I am here for them." "Then, meet me up in the first bedroom in ten minutes, there will be a great surprise for you." He winks as he pulls away from you and walks up the stairs.
After about ten minutes of finishing two drinks, you start to walk up the stairs, you also start to realize that you haven't seen the blonde guy ever since that thing between him and Ethan. You open the door to the first bathroom and your eyes open wide in shock.
The blonde was there, you close the door as blood was everywhere, his body was teared apart, and he was eating his own eyes as trails of blood flowed down his face and you can't help but scream. There ghost face was in all his glory and as the mask was removed, you gasp.
The curly haired boy you had just kissed was behind the mask. "E-Ethan, why?" You ask, terrified of all the possibilities of what could happen to you. The knife was still in his hands, and it was same one from that night on the porch, people died that night as well from an infamous ghost face killer.
"Well, baby, let me start from the start." He half slurs. He walks around you and starts playing with strands of your hair. You flinch at him touching you. "When I saw you for the first time, I knew you were the one for me baby, I started watching you, stealing things of yours, then my, what you call them, my co-workers were going on about killing you and we just couldn't have that, you mean way too much to me."
He then places kisses on your neck and traces the knife across your cheek, blood spreading from the blonde that was in front of you. "So, I killed them, it wasn't a part of the plan, baby. But I knew you'd be safe. You're just so trusting and it's sad to see people hit on you and you just fucking stand there, so I killed all of them, it really helped me get rid of my anger."
You sob as you see the dead person in front of you. "Why would you kill people for me?" You ask and Ethan chuckles. "Because...baby...you're like a drug."
🎯 = @idky5 @acornacreacure @nowitsmissing @1950schick
#ethan landry#ethanissohot#scream franchise#ethan landry x you#ethan landry headcanons#scream 6#ethan landry x reader#scream 2023#jack champion#jack champion x reader#ethan landry x y/n#ethan landry smut#scream movie#scream movies#jack champion fluff#jack champion imagine#ethan landry imagine#ethan landry fluff
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𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐳𝐚, 𝟏𝟒𝟏 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐒𝐨𝐚𝐩
note: Soap is so ruggedly adorable. I couldn't help but pick this gif. He looks so awestruck. Imagine him looking at you the same way. The sequel is here, guys!
Unconventional seemed to be the story of your life. Or that's what others thought. For you, it was as normal as eating and sleeping.
But of course, nothing was normal when it came to Ghost and Soap. Mm. You wouldn't call it unconventional. You'd call it exciting. Yeah... they're exciting. They keep you on your toes and you on theirs. And damn if you didn't enjoy everyday life with them.
Of course, you two can be (lovable) pains in Ghost's ass. But to be fair, everyone is a pain in Ghost's ass so you're doing something right if all he does is stare glare in longsuffering Ghost. And stare glare in longsuffering Ghost he does...
But yeah, it's the little things that make this relationship worth it.
Like the fact that Ghost has to be in the middle of everything. Literally. He sits in the middle of the couch, he's in the middle when you sleep. He's the neutral to your chaotic and Soap's... somewhat-but-not-really chaotic nature. He's, uh... he's in the middle of everything. ("...But I'm bigger than you both." "All the more reason to keep you in the middle, Lt." "What the fu—")
He also may or may not be the little spoon no matter what. Spoiler alert: he is. If it isn't Soap with an arm around his waist in the bed, it's you with your... everything pressed against him. You're probably copping a feel, too, and Ghost just sighs. You better not be touching anyone else's body but his and Soap's.
But hell, you love to cop a feel of Soap's beautiful body too, and he'll wink at you. Sometimes, he'll flex those big arms of his, and holy shit, you're swooning. Simon rolls his eyes.
And let's not forget the most recent argument about who snores. You say Johnny, he says it's you, and Simon says it's the both of you because you've ruined his 'beauty sleep' more than once. ("...Beauty sleep?" "Can't let these good genes go to waste." "....") You decided to record yourselves one night and come find out, all three of you snored. Ghost will call bullshit.
Fun fact: Simon does snore but it's really noticeable when he's REALLY fucking tired and Soap has a tendency to sleep like the dead and be alert at the same time. You bore witness to this a couple times. What the fuck?
Oh yeah, back to the little things: watching television together is a hoot and a half, too, if only because you're usually in control of the remote. You're really the only one who watches tv. Or so you think. Soap usually doesn't care what you watch unless it's clichè (and he will talk shit about how cliché the show is) and Ghost would rather the telly watch you three fuck. He already knows what's going to happen to the main character anyway because he and Soap binge-watched and trash-talked the show when you were out running errands.
When they're gone on assignment, they're confident you'll hold the fort down but that doesn't stop them from worrying about you. It always makes your day when they call to check on you.
You also tend to flood the group chat with memes or just start random conversations. Simon has banned you from posting risqué photos because all he'll think about is coming home and fucking you into the mattress. Soap is in agreement.
And when they do come home, the first order of business is holding you. Group hugs and cuddles are a must, especially for Ghost. And yeah, you can't deny how good it feels to be in between two muscular and handsome men.
And it's such a sight to see when you're the first one awake and you watch your boys sleeping so peacefully.
Let's not forget when they huddle closer together when you get out of bed. You took a picture of one such instance. Simon rolled his eyes and Soap was tickled by it.
Yeah, it's the little things that make this relationship worth it...
#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty x reader#task force 141#simon 'ghost' riley#simon riley x reader#soap mactavish x reader#john 'soap' mactavish#ghost x reader x soap#poly palooza.#nsfw.#just 141 things.#just ghostly things.
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Lost (13) - Easier to run
Tara Carpenter x female Reader
Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.
Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics
Warning for this chapter: I don't go into details, but the ending might be a bit, uncomfortable.
Word count: 3.9k
Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part
-Just washing it aside all of the helplessness inside pretending I don't feel misplaced is so much simpler than change-
Everyone who knew you and Tara for more than a day would likely say Tara was the one exception to your every rule. That all Tara had to do to get something from you would be to simply ask. There were plenty of activities that were only permitted to Tara. From stealing your clothes, in her defense they were comfy, and she felt like you were hugging her whenever she wore them, all the way to interrupting your training for valid, though admittedly silly, reasons. Well, those people had no idea what they were talking about because all the tricks in the books weren't making you give in.
"Come on, Y/N," Tara was getting desperate at this point. Puppy eyes didn't help, and she usually didn't have to resort to even that, let alone all the other options she used. She pleaded, she bargained, she tried seduction, promised things that made you smile at the mere thought of them, promised things that made you a flustered mess. "Please! I'll do anything you want," her pleading went unanswered as you got in your car.
"If you loved me, you'd do this for me," a low blow, but she was getting desperate.
You lowered your window and looked at Tara with the flattest look she had ever seen on your face. "Tara, you're not driving my car, now get in," she had no idea, but both of you had the same thought going through your heads. 'I have the most stubborn girlfriend ever.'
"You let Sam drive it," Tara grumbled when she relented and got in the passenger seat.
"I was injured! You can drive it if I'm dying or high on painkillers!" you exclaimed, clearly getting riled up over Tara's insistence on driving your precious car. Tara couldn't help herself, she grinned at your reaction. There was just something inherently appealing and maybe even a bit exciting in knowing that regardless of how much she pushed your buttons you'd only get annoyed and even then, you'd calm down after a bit of making out. So, while she really wanted to drive to Sacramento, getting you riled up would have to do.
Only... she just realized she couldn't make out with you while you were driving, and driving alone would calm you down. Tara was getting nothing out of half an hour's worth of effort.
Shit.
She guessed she could at least give you silent treatment for a bit. You were driving anyway, and not liking to talk while driving wasn’t limited to just phone, you didn’t like talking at all. You loved listening, and Tara happily talked throughout the entire rides, with you providing minimal verbal response. Honestly, she loved that about you, because you were a really careful driver, and she never had to worry about you as far as that was concerned.
“Come on, surely you’re not still moody over not driving?” you spoke up fifteen minutes after you left Woodsboro.
Tara hummed and turned her head to the side, pretending to ignore you. You huffed and she had to cover her mouth with her hand to hide the smirk on her face.
“Okay, okay, be moody. I guess we aren’t going to stop by that nice place on the side of the road, the one with that kiwi flavored ice cream you loved so much,” you had to be smirking, you absolutely had to be smirking. She heard it in your voice, you tease.
“Fine, fine, I’m not moody anymore,” she raised her hands and turned to look at you, after all, you did promise to stop by for kiwi ice cream.
“That’s my girl!” your smirk shifted into a happy grin causing Tara to blush.
~X~
Ever since choosing Blackmore University as the next step in your education, you made sure you went to Sacramento to visit Susan at least once a month, and Tara made sure she was with you every single time. In a week you'd be leaving Woodsboro so it wouldn't be as easy to travel from New York to Sacramento whenever you wanted to. So, that's how you ended up in Susan's guest bedroom with Tara getting ready to go to bed.
The fact that Tara was the one sleeping closer to the doors was enough proof of how the two of you felt regarding Susan. Right now, you and Tara were sitting on the bed, just about ready to lie down and sleep.
"I'm proud of you two, and yes, I already said that, and I'm going to keep saying that," Susan smiled, it felt good to hear someone say that, especially since it was directed at Tara too.
"Thank you," you glanced at Tara, noticing a small blush dusting her cheeks.
Every time Susan did something that made Tara feel welcomed and loved you couldn't help but like the woman just a bit more than before. "Thanks, mo-" you froze, your eyes wide as you realized what word nearly slipped past your lips.
You could feel your face burning as you wished for the ground to open and swallow you. Or for a bolt of lightning to strike you. Or anything, really, that could save you from embarrassment. Unconsciously you dropped down to the bed, behind Tara, thus hiding at least your face behind her.
A soft chuckle made you reach out and pull Tara closer to you as the bed muffled your embarrassed groan. "Good night," Susan closed the doors behind her.
Tara giggled, enjoying your unfortunate slip of the tongue. "Y/N," she pulled away from you, but only so she could lie down next to you and pull your head to her chest. "It's okay," she whispered softly, gently massaging the back of your head. "It was cute," she was enjoying this a bit too much.
"I'll never recover from embarrassment," you complained, even if you felt a bit better now.
"You're adorable when you get embarrassed," Tara actually cooed, only increasing the embarrassment you felt.
"No, I'm not. I'm an MMA fighter," you were a fighter, always ready for a brawl, proven to be one of the strongest female fighters in the world without even reaching your peak. You were not going to take this.
Tara shifted so she was face to face with you. "I don't see how one excludes the other, you're my adorable MMA fighter," the soft kisses were definitely making you just take it.
"You're lucky I love you," you playfully warned when Tara stopped kissing you for a moment.
"Oh, I know," there was a mischievous glint in Tara's eyes. Frankly, any other time this would probably escalate further, but you were at Susan's house and the mere idea of going further than kissing and cuddling felt strange.
~X~
Leaving Woodsboro and coming to New York, was, perhaps, the best decision you could make, especially for Tara. She was happy, relaxed, it was like she was being completely free for the first time in her life. Free from her mother, her past, from everything negative related to Woodsboro.
Nothing told you Tara was feeling better as well as the way you woke up that morning. It would be an understatement to say it was a surprise to wake up in your new apartment with Tara drawing random shapes on your left forearm with the tip of her finger.
Ever since Tara was attacked when the two of you slept together the two of you either spooned or slept in the same position as you were in this morning, with Tara's head on your chest, and your arms protectively around her. Cradle position, or something like that, Tara once told you.
"Hey, Love," you rasped, still a bit sleepy.
Tara leaned up, kissing the right side of your jaw. "Good morning, Y/N," you felt her smiling. "We've got a long day ahead of us," she reminded you, though with the way she nuzzled into your neck you figured she wasn't too eager to get up.
"Let's see, we're meeting that girl who answered our ad for a roommate, Sam has a job interview, I have first MMA classes," Thomas really saved your ass with that. He paid well, maybe even too well, it wasn't a full-time job, and you could use it to stay in shape as well. Because of how well he paid Sam would only need to work one job, instead of two that she was planning on. Tara could focus on studying, besides, with her asthma job options were even more limited. If she wanted to get a job eventually neither you nor Sam would stop her, but she deserved to take it easy at least for a year.
You also retired with quite a bit of money from the deal to retire quietly and the two fights you had. You considered investing it in something but figured it would be smarter to wait for a bit and see how things worked out in New York.
"Mhm, and we have to go do some shopping, mostly for our kitchen," Tara reminded you. That would be a bit of an annoyance since Sam just had to insist on getting the top floor, no elevator, apartment.
"I still can't believe there are so many stairs in this building, or that we actually have rooms now. And a kitchen. That isn't connected to the living room and bedroom. And two damn bathrooms. And three bedrooms. We have a separate dining area, Tara, a proper dining area with a table!" having spent almost three years in a cramped apartment made this feel surreal. Even the damn bed you were sleeping in was bigger now!
Tara laughed, tickling you slightly with her breath. "You can actually work out here," she teased you.
"That too!" you eagerly agreed. Finally, you could get rid of any nervous energy without heading to the gym. Granted, you didn’t have to do it that often, but just the fact that you could do it was enough. “And you can’t complain about that. Remember what you did the last time I did push-ups?”
Tara nodded, raising her head, and nibbling on your ear lightly. “Mhm, I sat on your back,” and she sounded so damn proud of that.
A knock on the door got your attention before you could reply to that. "Are you two decent?" Sam's voice came from the other side.
"Yeah!" Tara immediately said as she lowered her head back down and stopped teasing you. And you were decent, clothes on, room clean, you were just still in bed. Still, after Sam barely avoided catching the two of you in a not-quite-decent state she got into a habit of asking before entering. And you were thankful for that, because while you deeply cared about Sam, neither you nor Tara wanted her to walk in on you. And Sam was just as disturbed by the idea, so this was truly the best option.
"I was about to head to the store, do you need anything?" Sam asked, smiling when she saw Tara so happy this early in the morning.
Tara shook her head. "I'm good."
"Same here, I'll get the breakfast ready when you come back," honestly, you got used to Sam living with you and Tara really quickly. It almost made you sorry someone else, a stranger nonetheless, was about to join the three of you.
"I'll be back soon," Sam left the two of you and you stretched a bit before finally getting up.
"You two are going to spoil me," Tara sat up as well, yawning slightly.
You took the T-shirt you slept in off and went to the wardrobe to get a clean shirt. "Nothing wrong with that, Love," besides, it wasn't like Tara didn't do anything, she had her own chores, it's just that they didn't involve cooking or cleaning that could trigger her asthma.
“Mhm, how about I spoil you as well?” she came up behind you, got on her tiptoes and kissed your neck.
“What did you have in mind?” you lifted her up, smirking teasingly as she pulled back and hugged you.
“How about we watch your favorite movie, and I’ll order our favorite snacks and food so you don’t have to cook tonight?” she asked and your eyes lit up at that. She could definitely spoil you like that.
~X~
You were late. Thomas took up some of your time to talk about the first classes you taught as well as to catch up a bit. After everything he did you kind of couldn't just leave. Besides, Tara and Sam were meeting this girl, Quinn Bailey if you remembered correctly, in public, far enough from the apartment. Her dad was a cop, so that made it easier to drop your guard a bit.
As long as Tara and Sam were fine with the girl, you were sure you'd be fine with her too. If you were being completely honest, if Quinn managed to convince Sam she was harmless she was almost definitely in.
The bar Sam chose was busy, though not crowded, especially at this hour. People came and went, stopping by to get their coffee or to get out of the heat, but no one really stayed more than necessary. You came inside and looked around until you finally noticed Tara. When you joined Tara, Sam, and who you assumed was Quinn, you quickly leaned down to kiss Tara's cheek, gave Sam a brief one-armed hug, and only then offered your hand to Quinn. "Y/N L/N, sorry I'm late," you said.
Quinn accepted the handshake. "Damn, and I thought Sam was jacked, but look at you," she whistled as you sat down next to Tara.
Well, it wasn't the first time someone noticed your muscles, but the girl in front of you was pretty much ogling you right now. "Right, moving on," not the best first impression, but you could brush it off. Tara, who was frowning, probably wouldn't though.
"Where's the rush? I wouldn't mind having some fun," what was this woman trying to accomplish? You really couldn't figure it out. Was she trying to piss Tara off or something?
"Well, have fun. Without me," you reached down underneath the table to rub circles into Tara's right palm. Feeling the way she squeezed your hand it was the right decision.
"Life, I have found, is about variety, Y/N," she leaned in, reaching over toward your hand.
"Mine is about one person," you pulled your hand back before she could touch it. Tara loosened her hold on your hand, but still leaned a bit closer. You could see she was glaring daggers at Quinn and Sam didn't appreciate it either.
Quinn had a bit of a frown on her face, but it quickly changed and she began laughing. "I'm just joking with you, though I really wouldn't mind taking a closer look," she openly ogled you.
Tara faked a cough. "Well, I'm not. I'm sorry we wasted your time Quinn," there was no need for Tara to finish that sentence.
Quinn had the guts to look shocked. "Are you serious right now?"
"Absolutely," Sam took Tara's side and you just shrugged, as if to tell her 'Well, what did you expect would happen?'
"Unbelievable," Quinn pretty much stormed off.
"Do we really need a roommate? The extra bedroom can be used if Chad or Mindy decide to sleep over," Tara voiced what all three of you were thinking.
"That's probably the best option," Sam agreed, help with rent would have been welcome, but you could manage without it.
"You won't catch me complaining, that's for sure," you were definitely in favor of keeping the apartment to just the three of you. Not to mention it was the safest option.
"Speaking of the apartment, let's go back," Tara was already up and pulling you along. Sam still had her job interview, so it would just be you and Tara.
You could see she was still pissed off by the time you reached the building, so you picked her up bridal style. "Don't tell me you're jealous," you eventually asked and grinned as Tara placed her arm on your back.
"I'm not," she huffed as she unlocked your apartment.
She locked the doors behind you two and you went right to the bedroom. "What is it then?" you asked and lowered her down on the bed,
"You're mine," okay, that sounded way more possessive than you were used to from Tara. She said you were hers every now and then, this tone was different. This wasn't born of passion, or said in the heat of the moment, this was pure jealousy.
"So, you are jealous," you sighed, letting her pull you in until you were pressing against her.
"Of course I am. She, she just-" Tara huffed and let go of you, spreading her arms on the bed. You immediately recognized the mood swings from right after the attack. Your best guess was that this one was caused by Quinn attempting to take you from Tara.
"Tara," you slowly kissed her neck, gradually making your way up to her lips. "I'm yours. The only variety I want to consider is the variety of ways I can make you say my name," you grinned a bit as you heard Tara's breath hitch.
No fourth roommate. Just the three of you. With Woodsboro left behind. It felt like nothing could go wrong. You should have known better. You should have noticed Tara was too focused on ignoring Woodsboro.
You should have realized Tara was running away the moment you caught her covering the scar on her hand.
You only realized it two months after you came to New York when she first disappeared.
~X~
She may have had a bit too much to drink tonight. That might be a bit difficult to explain in the morning. Where was she anyway? She felt nauseous, but she still drank whatever alcohol was currently in her cup. Who exactly brought her here anyway? She was at one party, then somehow ended up at another one. Maybe. At this point, she was too drunk to know for sure.
How was she going to get home?
Oh well, problems for later.
She felt hands on her waist. The grip was strong. You? No, no, it was too firm, too forceful. She stumbled back, her head clearing enough to vaguely recognize a guy who was at the first party.
"What's wrong? You want this, right?"
She heard the words, but she couldn't quite understand them. The alcohol was making it very hard to stay steady on her feet. Oh, this was a mistake.
"No," she slurred, a lot like how her mother would and for a moment she felt disgusted by her behavior.
The guy laughed, clearly not believing her. "I'll take good care of you, don't worry about it."
Even as drunk as she was she felt her blood run cold. "Y/N," you weren't there, you weren't with her. She imagined your voice, telling her to breathe, angry at her, but more than anything worried about her asthma.
There was a crash and what sounded like wood cracking and then she felt safe. She felt the fresh air against her cheeks, strong arms holding her close, protecting her from anything and anyone. "I got you Tara, I got you," she heard and fell asleep in your arms.
~X~
You came back to the apartment when it was almost midnight, with Tara completely passed out due to who knows how much alcohol she drank. Sam met you at the doors, her legs too shaky to let her meet you outside. You weren't doing much better, you had hundreds of worst-case scenarios running through your head.
Sam reached out to Tara when you stopped at the front door. She shakily touched Tara's cheek, then lowered her hand to wipe a bit of drool coming out of Tara's mouth.
"Y/N...?" there was a silent question in the way Sam said your name. You saw fear in her eyes, and you were sure it was in your eyes as well.
"I think I made it in time," she nodded when you said that, leaving the unspoken question to hang in the air. The terrifying possibility that might happen if Tara doesn’t stop doing this. You didn't say it, and neither did Sam, but when you lowered Tara on the bed as gently as you possibly could Sam stepped out. So, you checked, just in case. Just in case you had to immediately get back to that damned house and murder anyone still there.
Luckily, you don't need to do that. Your hands trembled as you put your shirt on Tara and you released a muffled cry of relief when Tara just curled up, peacefully sleeping in your bed. "God damn it, Tara," you stumbled to the dining room, where Sam is expecting you. "Everything's fine," you fell apart the moment you dropped into the chair.
You pressed your hands against your eyes as you began sobbing uncontrollably. For hours you managed to hold it in, and now it all came crashing down upon you. You tried to keep it down, to be as silent as possible, but all those efforts resulted in coughs and gasps as more sobs tore through your body.
Sam was no different. shaking and crying her heart out and you just stumbled over to her and pulled her closer. And she let you, she clung to you in a way that reminded you of Tara. You had no idea how long you stayed like that, or how long it took for tears to dry up. You just feel lighter when you separate from Sam.
"We owe Anika," you finally say, your voice cracking and hoarse, you're tired from all the crying.
Sam nodded, not trusting her voice at the moment.
You realized Tara was gone when, around eight p.m. you called Mindy to see why Tara wasn't answering her phone. And then all hell broke loose because Tara wasn't with Mindy or Chad, and she wasn't answering her phone. So, it turned into an all-out search. Driving from one party to another until Mindy called you an hour and a half later. Anika saw Tara at a party and before Anika could do anything Tara left with all the wrong people.
It took slamming a man into the wall to get the address. Miles away from where you were. Miles away from your apartment. So, you drove even more recklessly than you did when you were trying to catch up to Sam.
And you found Tara.
And you wouldn't be surprised if you broke more than a couple of bones at that house.
And you called Sam to tell her the moment you lowered Tara onto the backseat of your car.
And you brought Tara back home.
And she was fine.
Just so damn drunk she barely even registered you were there.
You'd deal with Tara's recklessness first thing in the morning. Right now, you just needed to go to bed and hold her. So, you did just that, you didn’t even have to pull her closer, because the moment you slipped under the covers, she instinctively moved closer to you.
“Y/N,” she mumbled, still drunk and asleep.
You just sighed and wrapped your arms around her holding her close so you wouldn’t fall apart once again.
A/N: Honestly, I think Tara was mostly fine in Woodsboro, but then New York gives her all the opportunities to pretend nothing wrong happened, and we gradually reach Scream 6 Tara from the party.
#tara carpenter x reader#tara carpenter x you#tara carpenter x female reader#tara carpenter#scream#jenna ortega x reader#x reader
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Time Of Our Lives || Part 2
Part 2:
Tashi Duncan was a force.
Everyone knew it. Everywhere Tashi went, a crowd of people gathered, seeking some form of contact with her. A brief conversation about her day, their day, the fucking weather. Just so they could say they talked to the Tashi Duncan.
Liana hated her. She didn't hate her personally; she hated the fact that even at Stanford, everything revolved around tennis, and accordingly, everything revolved around Art Donaldson and his blonde curls.
Art, who showed up at her dorm at unreasonable hours with a box of fries he didn't even eat but knew she liked, Art, who was at every party she attended, Art, who wouldn't stop babbling about Tashi Duncan.
"Look, I just think she's not the right girl for him..." Right now, Art was lying on her bed, bouncing a ball while she was trying to finish a paper for her Intro to Economics class.
"I don't understand why you're here..." she mumbled in response. Somewhere in the second week at Stanford, she had stopped fighting his presence. He refused to let go. Every scowl she sent his way only encouraged him to do stupid things like waiting for her after class to walk her to the cafeteria or calling her mom and casually asking if she knew why Liana stopped coming to his open practices (she never attended his practices anyway, the little shit was an unbearable liar who made her mom talk for half an hour about how you can't neglect friendships like the imaginary one between her and Art).
"Because you didn't come to practice today. Again." He looked at her. "Are you back with James?" he asked casually.
"You know his name is Jake," she rolled her eyes, realizing she'd been reading the same line for fifteen minutes and deciding to close her laptop.
"Are you sure?" he asked with a half-smile, pleased that for the first time that evening, he had her attention.
"Why do you care that Patrick and Tashi are together?" she asked.
"I don't care. I just know Patrick, and you know Patrick-"
"Do I?" she cut him off, causing him to squint for a second.
"You know Patrick well enough to know how he treats girls. He doesn't take them seriously, and now he's with Tashi. He's going to mess her up and ruin her season." He shrugged, as if it was the most logical thing anyone had ever thought about his best friend.
"Aren't you supposed to worry about Patrick's season, Art? Like the good friend you are?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Everything felt too charged with tension she couldn't figure out.
"You didn't answer me about James. Are you back with him? He's kind of a loser," he changed the subject, not taking his eyes off her.
"You're kind of a loser. Sitting in my room and whining about your best friend dating the most beautiful girl you've ever seen. Get over your crush and move on. Use your blonde hair to find a hookup instead of bothering me while I'm studying." She turned her back to him and opened her laptop again. "And no, I'm not back with Jake," she concluded the topic, not wanting to reopen the wound of that relationship. Certainly not with Art Donaldson, who had started moving towards the door, finally getting the hint.
Liana put Patrick on speaker while she searched for her earrings. She had promised Daria (the only friend she had managed to find so far) that she would go out with her to the bar across from the university, and they would try out their fake IDs. Liana was sure no one would believe she was 21, no matter how revealing the dress Daria forced her to wear, how much makeup she put on, or how high the heels she wore were. No one with eyes would believe she was old enough to buy alcohol.
"The referee kept making mistakes. I think Marcus paid him off. His dad probably promised the guy a new Aston Martin if I lost." Patrick, who had been complaining for the last ten minutes about the terrible game he had today, continued talking while she tried to apply lipstick as straight as possible.
"I don't know much about tennis, but that sounds exaggerated, Pat." Liana didn't know what to say to cheer him up. The truth was that since the season started and Patrick decided he was pursuing professional tennis, Liana didn't know how to support him.
"I'm telling you, something was off there." He spoke, maybe to her, maybe trying to convince himself.
"I think you should call Tashi or Art. they would understand better than me what went wrong..." she said, wiping off the lipstick, the bright color felt too much. Like she was trying too hard to draw attention to herself to show everyone she was pretending to be an adult.
"Oh, if you think Tashi hasn't already called me and told me everything I did wrong in that game while reminding me of all the mistakes from the previous game, you're wrong." He answered. She recognized the bitterness in his voice.
"That sounds like a healthy relationship. you should write a book." She tried to lighten the mood, again not knowing how to help him. She didn't know Tashi, only heard stories about her, and currently, they weren't great.
"Art will just keep saying I should have taken the Stanford scholarship like him and be with you guys in the beautiful college bubble, drinking beer from a keg." He continued, ignoring the jab about his relationship.
"Imagine how much fun you could have had with me at Stanford, Pat. I'm on my way to use my fake ID at a bar. In heels and everything." Liana tried to do everything she could to steer the conversation away from tennis.
"Whoa, Liana Levi, breaking the law. Who would have believed we'd reach this moment? What's your fake name?" he laughed, which made Liana smile. Something about hearing Patrick so broken felt wrong to her. It didn't fit the curly-haired boy who always tried to make her laugh and include her in everything he did when she was around.
"Amanda Jacobs," she replied. Silence fell on the line.
"Amanda Jacobs like Amanda James who went to boarding school with me and Art?" Patrick asked, and she could hear the octaves in his voice change. She already knew he wouldn't let this go.
"I had to come up with something on the spot. I panicked," she defended herself as his laughter slowly became the only thing she could hear. He couldn't see her right now, but it made her smile even more, even though it was at her expense.
"Alright, Amanda, don't drink and drive. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He said after he calmed down.
"Okay, Dad." She rolled her eyes.
"You know I love it when you call me-" he couldn't finish the sentence because she hung up.
Art was sitting on her bed when she came back from the bar. Not only had her fake ID worked, but the bartender had also been hitting on Daria all night, so he kept pouring them free shots. It was safe to say Liana had never drunk that much alcohol in her life.
"Am I imagining you?" she asked with utter seriousness.
"What? No. I was waiting for you." He looked confused. "Are you drunk?" he asked the obvious while Liana tried to take off one of her heels and almost fell, causing Art to quickly get up and stand next to her so she could lean on him.
"How did you get in here, Arthur?" she put her hands on her hips, causing him to look at her and flash his most charming smile. The kind that made all the girls melt.
"Your dad gave me a key for emergencies," he said, without taking his eyes off her as he sat back on the bed and she approached him with clumsy steps, a little disappointed that taking off the heels didn't help her stability much. "Do you want to sit?" his tone was amused. He had never seen Liana so drunk. Almost every summer, they managed to sneak a few beers when Patrick came to visit. But it was never serious.
"My dad gave you a key? You realize that's not normal, right? We need to talk about boundaries, Donaldson," she turned her head to him while he was already looking at her, just inches separating them as they sat next to each other on the bed.
"Patrick told me you were going to a bar, something about a fake ID? wanted to see if you're ok" he said, not moving. A little afraid she'll be the one who suddenly moves away. He couldn't remember the last time Liana was this close to him. He didn't think she would ever get this close to him again.
"Patrick is a snitch, and I'm not telling him anything anymore," she sighed and threw herself on the bed dramatically, spreading her arms, causing Art to do the same and land on her arm, closer than she would tolerate any other day.
"I can't believe you didn't invite me. I'm disappointed," he tried to sound amused, but he was genuinely disappointed. By this point, he was sure she understood they were friends, that they were connected by such a strong bond that he sometimes doubted if he could ever unravel it. If he even wanted to unravel it. He just didn't understand how, while he saw her so clearly, she didn't see him at all. Sometimes he wondered if she even knew his name. Then he would see her in the crowd at one of his games, and the world calmed down; he always won when she was there.
"You don't drink anyway," she noted quietly. The fatigue started to overcome her, and Liana's eyes closed on their own.
"Hey, I do drink," he defended himself, even though they both knew he was lying. He tried to maintain his diet as correctly as possible, as fitting as possible for his athletic lifestyle.
"I think Patrick is sad," she suddenly said, and Art felt his heart beating quickly.
"How do you know?" he asked in a quiet, almost defeated voice.
"Because when I talk to him, I'm sad too."
sooo, here's the second part. I think we're getting somewhere, but it's going to be a slow burn, so stick with me, I guess. I'm kinda clueless as to if you like it or not, so feel free to tell me what you're thinking ❤️
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