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sinfulspencer · 8 months

Text

Human

Prompt: Reader shows Spencer that prison might have changed him, but he's still the love of her life. She's going to stick by his side until he gets tired of her. Based on the song 'Human' by Daughter.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Rating: angst, mature (18+)

Warning: self-doubt, self-pity, Spencer is just sad; implied unprotected sex

Words: 4.8k

A.N.: This is a fic I wrote last year around July-August and now it can finally see the sunlight. Thank you @andiebeaword for being my beta-reader for this!

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My mind’s lost with nightmares streaming

Woken up kicking, screaming

Take me out of this place I’m in

Break me out of this shell-like case I’m in

Underneath the skin there’s a human

Buried deep within there’s a human

And despite everything I’m still human

The bed creaked underneath the weight of his body and the blanket shuffled on top of me, while my eyes got used to the darkness of our bedroom. The silent sound of footsteps made me turn on my right side, trying to figure out what was happening and why I was about to wake up.

Instinctively, my hand went to the side and touched the warm spot Spencer was supposed to occupy. His pillow was still there, but he wasn’t.

I wasn’t surprised.

My eyes fell on the clock on my nightstand and, just like the night before at 4 am, I was alone in our bed. The darkness surrounding me wasn’t as comforting as it was before, because it felt like it was swallowing me whole - but I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

Spencer, on the other side of our apartment, was sitting on the couch with his weighted blanket wrapped around his shoulder and his eyes closed. He was rocking back and forth, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth with his hands clutching to the blanket.

That’s how I found him in our living room.

I didn’t want to get too close, terrified that I could’ve spooked him, but I couldn’t stand there and do nothing.

The pained expression on his face broke my heart as a tear escaped from those kind eyes that watched me with love and tenderness. I couldn’t just stay there and not do anything, I needed to help him somehow.

“Spencer?”

I called out his name to try and take him out from that hazy state he was clearly in, but I didn’t succeed. His eyes were still closed tightly and his knuckles were white because of the tension on his fingers, still gripping the blanket.

I took another step closer. “Spencer, my love?”

He didn’t move, but I saw his body relaxing when my voice reached his ear. Like a knot coming undone, Spencer leaned back against the couch with his blanket falling down from his shoulders.

His eyes didn’t open, but there was no need to.

“My love, I’m here.” - I whispered, taking another step closer to cover his shoulders with the blanket again - “You’re home.”

When my right hand barely brushed Spencer’s skin over his elbow, his fingers gripped it tightly and moved it over his chest. I didn’t pull away, following the path of his fingers before caressing the tender skin right above Spencer’s heart.

I could feel the quick beating of his heart underneath my fingertips.

I wanted it to match mine, calmer and more relaxed.

“Can I sit here with you, my love?”

Spencer didn’t answer me, but he moved to the side in order to leave space on the couch for me. His left thigh was slightly pressed to mine as his fingers lost their grip on my hand, cradling on top of my thigh.

I didn’t know what he wanted to do, but it was fine.

If touching me was what he needed to feel better, then I was more than willing to help him in that way.

Once I got comfortable on the couch, kneeling by his side with my right hand on his chest and the left one behind his neck, I leaned forward. I rested my chin on his shoulder, as Spencer’s curls tickled the lower part of my face.

He released a long sigh, tilting his head.

“Is there something I can do, my love?”

Spencer shook his head, pulling me closer to his body. I could hear the faint sound of his sniffles as he hid his face in the crook of my neck, clinging to the warmth radiating off me and the smell of home that embraced him.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and climbed onto his lap.

“You’re home, my love. You’re not there anymore.” - I whispered, running my fingers through his curls - “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Yes.”

Spencer’s voice came out broken by sobs, his body shaking as he tried to get as close as possible to me. My chest was pressed to his and my fingers were playing with his curls, a gesture that usually helped him calm down whenever he had those moments.

Prison changed Spencer, and not for the better.

Though his confidence peeked somehow, his whole demeanour changed whenever we were alone in our apartment. Spencer used to love having his space, but after his release from prison that changed: he never left me alone for too long, he always found a way to touch me and hold me close, as if he was scared I might disappear.

I knew it was all in his head, he knew it as well - but that didn’t change the fact that he wouldn’t stop holding my hand or asking me to come closer to him.

Spencer was terrified of losing me.

Before prison, losing me was just a temporary fear that would go away with my reassuring words. After prison, that fear became more irrational, more rooted in his brain to the point he would call me too many times on the phone just to make sure that I was safe and at work.

I couldn’t blame Spencer.

He saw his friend getting slaughtered in front of him. He had to taint other prisoners’ drugs in order to stay alive. He had to spend three hellish months in a place where he didn’t belong, to a place that crushed his spirit and ruined all the progress he had made through the years.

The nightmares were probably the worst part, though.

Endless nights of Spencer waking up screaming at the top of his lungs, where he would cry and cry in my chest because he thought I was dead, because he dreamed about being covered in my own blood branding a knife behind his back, because he thought that he hurt me.

His hands would shake me to make sure that I was still breathing and then he would kiss me, apologising to me for waking me up because he was so scared, whispering that everything was okay and he was just scared.

Scared wasn’t even the right word for it, Spencer was.. panic-stricken.

Shivers down my spine whenever I felt him shuffling out of bed and running outside the bedroom. I followed him every single time, everywhere around the house, fearing that he might do something awful, something drastic.

It was exhausting.

The more I tried to help him, the more everything seemed pointless.

But I wasn’t going to give up.

Underneath that shell of a man, there was my Spencer.

My darling Spencer, the man I’ve loved more and more each day.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s okay, we can sit here in silence and watch the sun come up.” - I offered, pointing to the purple curtain covering the glass - “How about that, my love?”

Spencer didn’t answer me, but he held me closer to his chest as he hid his face in the crook of my neck. His curls tickled my skin as his hands brought me down on his thighs, feeling the warmth radiating off every inch of my body.

It wasn’t sexual.

It was far from that.

Spencer was making sure that I was real, that I was alive and breathing, that I wasn’t a figment of his imagination and that he wasn’t having another dream. The gentle massage of his fingers all over my thighs stopped as soon as I turned to the side, looking at the closed window not too distant from us.

The sky was still black and grey clouds were dancing ahead of us, but the faint lights of the sleepy sun were slowly peeking. I hoped the view could reflect Spencer’s episode as well: dark in the beginning as the poisonous thoughts clouded his brain, with the light slowly filtering through as the fear dissipated and my love lullabies him back to me, back to reality.

“Are you going to work today?”

I leaned my head on top of his, nodding. “Yes, but in the afternoon. Do you want me to call in sick?”

Spencer released a frustrated sigh as he went quiet.

I knew what he was thinking: he wanted me to stay at home with him, but he knew he couldn’t ask me that. Replacing me at work wasn’t easy, I knew my co-workers wouldn’t have appreciated that.

However, I was willing to do anything in my power to help Spencer out.

If he needed me to be with him for the whole day to hold his hand, to cook him some food, to read him a book, I was ready to do it. I didn’t want Spencer to feel bad for keeping me away from my colleagues and my work, I didn’t want Spencer to think that I resented him for asking for help.

I would’ve never done that.

Asking for help is one of the hardest things the human kind has ever learned to do, and some people still struggle with it. Spencer always kept everything to himself before prison, but then he realised that there was no need to fight all alone.

There was no need to use all of his strength and keep on fighting when there was no one by his side because he pushed them away, because he built this hard, cold wall all around his heart.

But he had to come to it on his own time, at his own pace.

Unfortunately, what made him understand that asking for help wasn’t a weakness, was prison. In that shit-hole Spencer understood the power of love, the power of his own words and that his feelings were valid.

They were a part of him, they were what made him a person.

Spencer had a really hard time processing that, but never did I push him. Never did I force him to speak when he didn’t want to. Never did I tell him that everything he did hurt me, because he knew that.

Deep down in his bright, warm heart, Spencer knew that by keeping quiet and never speaking he was hurting me. But who was I to tell him that? Who was I to kick a man who was already down? Spencer was well aware that communication meant everything to me, but I couldn’t force him to speak if he couldn’t.

He had to find his own voice, he had to find the strength to ask for help.

And when he did, his whole world changed.

Spencer found everything more difficult as soon as he spoke the first time. He didn’t look into my eyes, he didn’t hold my hands, he didn’t get close to me because he thought that talking about his feelings would make me hate him.

It didn’t. On the contrary, it made me love him even more.

Dealing with your own feelings is hard and dealing with your partner’s feelings, who’s not a big fan of processing them, is even harder. Sometimes people told me that it would’ve been much easier to leave him, to let Spencer deal with his own shit all alone and move on.

What kind of human being thinks that? What kind of person gives up on another person who just learned how to recognize and explain his feelings? What kind of person would let another deal with such a burden on their back, all alone?

Not me.

“Alright, I’ll call Francis.” - I kissed Spencer’s forehead, looking down at him - “Do you want to go to the bookshop later? We can pick a book and…”

Spencer shook his head, interrupting my sentence. “No. I want to stay at home.”

His fingers gripped me tighter as I tried to sit by his side. “That’s okay. Do you want to take a bath? Or bake something?”

“A bath would be nice.” - his voice was small, shaky - “Can we do that?”

I smiled at him, bringing both my hands on his cheeks. “Of course! Whatever you want, my love.”

Spencer followed me to the bathroom in silence, basking in the excitement that was clearly rolling off each one of my movements. He knew how much I loved taking baths together, because it was one of the most sensual and romantic experiences one could have.

In prison Spencer never had time alone, especially not in a room like a bathroom.

But now, in the comfort of our own home, Spencer could finally relax in the warm water as I massaged his shoulders and peppered his neck with kisses. He could bask in the happiness he brought me and the love I tried to shower him with, in order to make him feel like he didn’t change.

Because his love for me didn’t.

Spencer leaned his head to the side, sighing softly as I ran the sponge up and down his neck. Drop of water ran down his skin while the soap covered the soap’s path and I wrapped my free arm around his chest.

“Does that feel nice, hm?”

Spencer nodded, intertwining his fingers with mine over his heart. “I’ve missed doing this with you.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, my love.” - I whispered, closing my eyes as I rested my head against his back while I moved the sponge down to his shoulder - “But…”

Spencer turned his head to the side, never letting my hand go. “But?”

Humming, I pulled away from him and started to bathe him again. “Maybe we should buy a bigger bathtub.”

A low chuckle escaped from his lips. “Hm, maybe we can buy a Jacuzzi.”

I laughed with him, shaking my head. “Spencer, that’s too expensive! But we can book a weekend at the Hot Springs they just opened to have that experience.”

“Yes, please. I want to go away with you for a few days.”

“I’ll make a few calls later, then.” - I pressed a kiss on the back of his neck - “Okay?”

Spencer didn’t answer me but he gently tugged my arm, forcing me to press against his body one more time. With my cheeks against his back, my whole body was pressed to his while I stayed silent.

The idea of going to the Hot Springs with Spencer filled me with joy, because it was our first get-away after he came home from prison. I didn’t know if he was going to fully enjoy it, but I was going to try my best to make him forget all the feelings he had within himself.

“Can you sit in front of me?”

Spencer’s voice interrupted my train of thoughts, echoing inside the bathroom.

He couldn’t see me, but I nodded as I stood up from the water. Spencer held my hands in order for me not to slip and fall onto the floor, making sure that I was steady enough to exit the bathtub.

I didn’t know why he wanted me to sit in front of him, but I wasn’t going to say anything about it. It was probably because he needed to have me closer to him - and by closer, he desperately needed to have me on his thighs just like in the living room.

I wasn’t going to complain.

Spencer helped me get back inside the bathtub, watching me.

Those honey-coloured eyes were staring back at him with all the love and tenderness they’ve been showing me throughout the years, looking at me as if I was Spencer’ most precious possession - and I was, as he kept reminding me each day.

I brought my hands on his cheeks, leaning forward to kiss his lips while Spencer lifted my hips and gently sat me on his thighs.

“You look pretty.”

I bumped my nose against his. “Are you trying to get into my panties? That’s shameful, Doctor Reid. I am a lady.”

My words made him laugh as my heart swelled in my chest at the sight: when Spencer laughs, he has this cute, dumb, adorable smile on his lips and the most beautiful dimples on those soft cheeks.

He was so fucking beautiful and he didn’t know.

“I don’t think I need to have you sitting on my thighs to get into your panties, lady.”

I hummed against his lips, running my fingers through the curls at the base of his neck. “True, you can have me anytime you want.”

Spencer closed his arms around my waist and hid his face in the crook of my neck, breathing in and out through his nose. I kept caressing his hair and playing with his curls, hoping that my words didn’t make him uncomfortable.

It wasn’t unusual of me to make sexual innuendos at the most inappropriate times, Spencer knew me that well, but… I felt bad for saying that. I knew that Spencer didn’t want to have sex - if he wanted to, he would’ve told me or probably grabbed me by the waist and dragged me to the bedroom.

“I don’t deserve you.”

Shaking my head, I brought my hands down to his face and tilted it upward. “I decide whether you deserve me or not, Spencer.”

His eyes never left mine. “But it’s true. You’re always so good to me, and I haven’t been myself lately. I keep shouting, crying..”

“So? Do you think those things are enough to make me walk away?” - I asked, pressing a kiss over his lips - “I’m not going to leave you just because you’ve experienced something that caused you so much pain. I promised to stay by your side, I’m here for the long run.”

He didn’t have to speak because the way he leaned forward and closed the distance between us told me everything I needed to know. He was apologising through the kiss for claiming he wasn’t enough for me, but I understood his point of view.

Spencer knew he was being difficult to be with, but he also knew how much I loved him and cared for him. I wasn’t going to give up my love for him just because he had to go through such a traumatic experience.

I was willing to do anything in my power to help him, even if it would’ve taken me years to get him back.

But Spencer never went away. He was still himself underneath that glass shell.

He was still the man I fell in love with, just a bit bruised.

“I love you, Spencer. You know that, right?”

“Yes, I know.” - he replied with no hesitation - “But I really don’t understand how you manage to stay with me.”

I raised my brows, pulling away from him. “Did you forget what I just said?”

“Sometimes love is not enough.”

My heart broke at the pain in his voice.

“Not in my case, my love.” - I reminded him, brushing my thumb over his bottom lip - “In my case, love is more than enough. I’m with you because I love you and I don’t think I can survive without you, honestly.”

Spencer kissed my thumb. “That’s not healthy.”

“Drinking almost six cups of coffee in one morning is not healthy either, but you do it anyway.”

“Actually, four or five cups of coffee a day…”

Interrupting him with another kiss on the lips, I huffed. “Spencer.”

He chuckled, running his fingers up my back. “Sorry. It’s just… hard for me to understand why you would want to be with me when I’m being like this.”

“I’m with you because I’m in love with you.” - I answered him - “I’m with you because the day I agreed to be yours, I promise you I’d do anything for you. And I’m not going to give up on you just because you think you’re difficult.”

Spencer looked down, sliding his hands over my thighs.

“You’re not being difficult, Spencer. You’re traumatised, there’s a big difference.”

“I’m scared that I will push you away because of what I’ve been through.”

I shook my head, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I’m doing the best that I can to be with you, Spencer. I know that I’m not a psychologist or a psychiatrist, so I can’t give you medical help, but I’m willing to support you and be with you every step of the way. That’s what a partner does.”

Spencer released a sigh as the water inside the bathtub moved under us.

“I love you.”

I kissed his lips. “I love you too, more than words can say.”

In silence, I washed his curls with my strawberry shampoo. Spencer didn’t complain, keeping his eyes closed the whole time as he basked in the kindness of my touch over his scalp, his shoulders, his chest, his face.

I took your time to rinse off the shampoo and the soap off his body, to make sure he was clean and felt like it as well.

I couldn’t catch a glimpse of his thoughts, but I knew that at that moment Spencer felt safe in my arms. The way his body moved underneath mine made me understand that he didn’t want to let me go, that he was grateful to have me by his side and that he was going to do anything to be okay.

To get through this moment of his life.

When I was done with his bath, I cleaned myself and got out of the bathtub with his hands in mine. I struggled to move inside the bathroom as Spencer kept me close to his body the whole time, not daring to step away for a second.

It felt like I had a koala attached to my back, but I never once complained.

Spencer’s skin against mine felt perfect.

Following me to the bedroom, Spencer left his phone on the nightstand while I pushed the blankets down. He was looking at me the whole time, admiring how my naked body looked under the faint lights of the bedroom.

There was nothing sexual in what he was doing, even though I was naked and not afraid to show every part of me. I became so used to his eyes and his hands on me that when Spencer took a step back, I felt lonely.

I suddenly missed the warmth of his fingers on my waist and the hardness of his chest pressed to my back.

“I want to stop thinking for a while.”

I looked over to him, laying down on the bed. “How can I help, my love?”

Spencer didn’t speak, sitting on the edge of the bed. He twisted the little curls right behind his neck, with his eyes looking elsewhere. He was trying to gather the right words on his tongue.

“There is something, but…”

“Anything for you.” I frowned when he didn’t look at me

Lifting myself up, I crawled closer to him and wrapped my arms around his neck from behind so that my chin was pressed over his shoulder. I left an open-mouthed kiss on the side of his neck.

“I’d do anything to make you feel better, my love.”

Spencer turned to his side, looking at me before gently grabbing my hand. Our fingers locked together as he looked to the window right in front of us: he was still silent, probably pondering the words and picking the better ones.

I knew what he was silently telling me with the way he behaved, but I needed the words to come out of his lips. I needed Spencer to be honest and fully in control of the situation, because I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Spencer brought our joined hands to his chest. “I don’t know how to ask this.”

I crawled closer to him until I was sitting, again, on his thighs. Our hands were still locked together, but Spencer moved them from his chest to mine and slowly, he pushed them down right above my belly button.

It was clear what he wanted, and I understood how difficult it was to ask for that kind of comfort in such a moment but I was willing to help him.

I had to do all the talking, I wanted him to feel safe. And I needed him to know that I would’ve done anything for him.

“Do you want to make love to me?”

Spencer looked up at me as if I finally put a voice to his thoughts. Nodding his head, his lips touched mine as our hands separated.

My fingers immediately travelled up to his neck as I kissed him even harder, hoping that the love I was pouring into the kiss could be felt. I needed Spencer to know how much I loved him, how much I cared about him.

Spencer deserved to know every emotion I felt for him.

By the way he laid back down on the bed, with his hands pressed to my back so that our chests couldn’t separate, Spencer hinted at me that he felt everything.

Every beat of my heart, every breath I took, every smile and laugh… They all belonged to him.

There wasn’t a single part of my body that didn’t belong to him.

It didn’t take long for our bodies to connect, with me still sitting on his thighs and Spencer’s staring at me with those sweet, honey coloured eyes. I tried my best to stay still as Spencer brought his hands behind his neck, smiling at the sight of my body tightening all around him.

I moved as slow as I could, kissing his lips and whispering how much I loved him while Spencer couldn’t do nothing but take all of me, feel my body welcome him and show him that nothing changed between us.

We were still the same old us, wrapped in our own love bubble that nobody was going to burst - prison didn’t, Spencer understood that as I praised his name, whining in pure ecstasy the more our kisses became erratic and his hands flew on my waist.

His fingers dug into my skin, leaving the same marks my mouth was peppering his neck with. I painted his skin the way he painted mine, owning his body the way his was owning mine.

I made sure to remind Spencer of how good I felt as he looked at me completely breathless, struggling to move his eyes off me. I didn’t want him to - he deserved to know that he was still able to make me crumble, to make me whine his name, to make me his all over again.

Moans spilled from my lips like a chorus of prayers while Spencer kissed my throat.

He dragged his nails up to my thighs, whispering my name in that soft tone I loved more than anything in the world. He looked breathtaking, just like every night I’ve spent on top of him, underneath him, by his side, all around him.

We were one, that night.

With our eyes locked, I felt the euphoria crashing through my body as soon as his warmth filled me until I couldn’t take it anymore. I struggled to kiss Spencer while I let my pleasure blind me to the point I didn’t know where I started and Spencer ended, but I didn’t mind.

His hands were all over me, touching every inch of my skin as his eyes closed. Tears fell down his cheeks and mixed with mine, clashing onto our chests while we collapsed against one another.

Still enthralled in our pleasure and our love bubble, we clung to each other as if we were pathetic grass in the middle of a tornado. A perfect metaphor of our life ever since his sentence, ever since he got locked him and I stayed out, waiting for him in our bed, in our shared home.

But we were free, that night.

We were with one another, because Spencer came back to me.

He was still mine, he has always been mine even when his brain told him that I didn’t want him anymore, that I wouldn’t be able to be happy with a man like him by my side.

When the air filled our lungs again, I rolled off his body.

His right hand immediately clung to mine, with his fingers intertwined with mine.

“I love you,” Spencer blurted out.

I turned to the side, looking at him. “I love you more, my love.”

Brushing the back of his free hand to his cheek, Spencer cuddled closer to me. His nose pressed to the side of my throat while his whole body shuddered, as more tears spilled from those beautiful eyes I kissed.

I hugged him and held him as tightly as I could, caressing with the tip of my fingers his cheeks, his lips, his nose, his forehead. He kissed the skin he bit before as I sighed, holding back the tears.

I hated to see him so broken, and I hated not being able to help him just by snapping my fingers. I knew it was going to be a long and difficult process, but I was going to stay by his side every step of the way.

“Thank you.”

“For what, my love?”

Spencer looked up at me and his nose twitched. “For making me feel like a human being who deserves to be loved.”

I was going to turn this into my life’s mission.

With a weak smile, I closed the distance between our lips.

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 6 months

Note

Spooky season needs spooky stuff.. >:3

So can I request the digital circus cast (minus Caine)meeting a Child Spirit Y/n headcanons,who like Kinda possesed/went inside the game to find they’re killer for some reason? They are eerily quiet and like to stare but if talked to very sweet but quick to snap in distrust because..well trust is what got them killed in the first place? They’re a bit bloody..and a eyeball sometimes hangs out?? Like vhs horror stuff

Sorry I’m being so descriptive,I hope you are a nice day!

OOOoo yes time for more spooks!

Also I am having a nice night, thanks! (and I hope you are having a nice day/night too!)

......

Pomni

To make a long story short, you got murdered while wearing the headset, and that tethered your spirit to TADC.

As expected, you lost memories of who you were--except for the knowledge that someone killed you because you trusted them too much, and you believed the answers were inside this very game.

Your character ends up looking like a child's ghost costume: a white bedsheet stained in blood and one of your eyeballs occasionally wanting to pop from its socket.

Caine (who was very much bewildered at your arrival) declares that you're part of an "exclusive Halloween update" and changes up the tent and grounds to have more spooky flair.

But Pomni clearly wants no part of it, and she can tell you don't either.

You're clearly a kid who is (somehow) handling the situation of being stuck in this game better than her, yet when she tries asking you about it....all you do is stare back.

She swears she can hear static noises and whispers she can't decipher--all in all getting a...very creepy vibe from you.

Initially she decides to keep her distance, afraid you were secretly some virus or Abstraction underneath that sheet.

But that changes when you're walking by the rooms one night, and you pass by Pomni's door, hearing her quietly crying.

Although you weren't inclined to get close to anybody here, you were concerned. And since you weren't actually coded into the game, you didn't have to follow any of its rules--and that allowed you to enter her room without a key.

At first you scared the shit out of her, but after realizing it's you, she lets you sit beside her, eventually venting about how badly she missed her real home.

"Everyone keeps telling me "oh this place is so much better" or "get used to it"...but what if I don't wanna do that? I don't care if my old life was bad...I-I can't take anymore of this.." Her sobs grow louder. "I wanna wake up in my own bed knowing my real name!!"

"...I miss home, too," is all you say in response. Yet it's more than enough to calm her down.

For once, you're not trying to brush her off or force her to "cheer up" and accept her reality. You made her feel heard.

"Yeah..me, too....sh-should I thank you for agreeing..?" She sniffles, seeing your subtle nod, before you leave her be, not wanting to get too attached.

Ironically, she was able to sleep a little easier after talking to you.

Jax

From the get-go, he's gonna be real nosy and curious.

Since not even Caine himself expected your arrival and found out that you don't follow the "rules" like everyone else...Jax is gonna try his damnedest to understand you and see what makes you tick.

But he's gonna be disappointed quickly since you don't respond much to him (or anybody in general).

"So...ya like Halloween?"

"........"

"....thought so. Good talk, new kid."

You definitely act like a legit ghost--doing nothing but stare, move things around, and pop up unexpectedly.

Eventually, his curiosity leads to him visiting your room (which has no key), and he discovers many drawings on the walls.

Most depicting a dead person wearing a headset.

What he found most disturbing was a journal that contained his and the others' names..

From what he's gathering...you're suspecting one of them of murdering your real world-self.

But he doesn't get much time to ponder this as you show up, angry at him for intruding.

You make yourself look even bloodier and scarier, with both of your eyeballs hanging from their sockets and staring at him.

"Get out."

Those two simple words put the fear of god in him.

Jax runs out faster than a jackrabbit, colliding with Gangle in the process. Her comedy mask falls off again, but he catches it and looks at her.

"J-Jax..?" She realizes his fur is standing up on all ends, and he looks terrified....even more than he did after realizing the circus was his forever home.

But he just shoves the mask back into her hands and leaves without saying a word.

He never speaks of what he found in your room that day.

Kinger

He thought his eyes were weird...until you came along and periodically had to put your own eyeball back into its socket.

"It's good to know I'm not alone!" He nervously chuckles, only to be met with your eerie silence.

Sometime later, he suggests showing you his insect collection, and it does pique your interest.

You did love all things "creepy" and "crawly".

Yet you're adamant about going to his pillow fortress after he invites you.

It reminds you of the ones you used to build all the time, up until...

Fortunately, Kinger recognizes your reluctance and just brings one of his bug boxes to you so you can look at it.

He could infodump about the various critters for hours, with nothing but nods and quiet "mhms" from you, and he's happy.

In general, he doesn't mind your quiet personality.

Although you still sometimes jumpscare him unintentionally like Gangle often does.

Tbh he's a good father figure and recognizes that you're just a kid who got trapped in this game unfairly.

Even so, you try to keep your distance and looks at him suspiciously if he starts acting too nice.

He was quiet aloof, and you weren't sure how he would act on any given day.

Gangle

After accidentally spooking her (by simply existing in the same room as her), she breaks her comedy mask off.

But immediately she feels guilty for screaming and tries scrambling to fix it, hoping you weren't mad at her.

Yet all you do is stare, not looking angry or anything at all (it's hard for any of the performers to see your expression in general, aside from your hanging eye, but still).

Poor Gangle is just afraid you'd turn into a scarier version of yourself.

When she keeps cutting her ribbon fingers(?) on the ceramic pieces, you come over and clean it up for her, taking it away despite your own hands bleeding.

The implications that you were able to shed blood and nobody else were a little disturbing to her..but she's glad you're not offended by her screaming.

Although she wonders where you're going with her mask..

Later on, you knock on her door and present it fully fixed.

Except...it looks more Halloweenish with an evil smile painted on it, messily glued together.

'Oh god I hope this doesn't turn me evil or anything..' She thinks, putting on a smile as she takes it anyways.

Yet you remain where you are, staring and clearly waiting for her to try it on.

And so she does, and it turns her into a very chaotic Halloween lover, acting even more mischievous than Jax and allowing her to finally get her revenge for all his pranks.

In the end, you gain a decent friendship with her, subtly protecting her from Jax's bullying.

Ragatha

Seeing that you're so distant from the rest of the gang has her worried.

Some of them might consider your loose eyeball creepy, but she's not gonna judge you on that (besides, she's missing an eye altogether so she can't say much anyways).

Howeve,r she's the first to find out how strong your distrust of everyone is.

"[Y/n]? I don't think it's good to be isolating yourself like this. I know you hate being here and Caine's a weirdo..but...we're all in this together. You can trust us-"

"Don't." You warn, putting on a frightening display of anger that sends her tumbling to the ground, sending chills up her spine.

"Trust" became something you didn't take lightly, as the last time you put your trust in someone....you ended up dead, turning into a literal ghost in the machine (that was your gaming system).

Despite this, Ragatha doesn't run away.

Like Pomni, she understands that you're just a kid who's confused and lost.....and clearly had serious trust issues.

But she's determined to help you through that, even if you keep scaring everybody away.

She's got motherly instincts, and she hopes that in due time you'll learn to warm up to her.

Zooble

"A bedsheet worn as a costume? That's a classic."

She's seen weirder things during their time in the circus, so you don't faze her too much.

Only when you snap at Ragatha or somebody who was trying to be nice to you does she raise an eyebrow.

Honestly, they 100% understand that you just wanted to be alone sometimes, and she respects that.

It's suffocating trying to act all cheery and go along with every damn activity Caine tries to get everyone involved in (but lucky for you, he can't make you follow along).

Especially since she believes he made up that stupid "Halloween update" as lazy way to explain your sudden arrival.

The only time you do interact with Zooble is after she yanks Jax by his ears, and they hear this eerie-sounding giggle behind them.

When she turns around, you're just standing there motionless, staring at her.

Somehow, they just know you were smiling underneath that costume, which makes her smile, too.

"Maybe I should pull him out a hat next time, huh?" She jokes after letting him go, and you giggle once more as he hits the ground.

#clanask #anonymous #tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #tadc pomni #tadc ragatha #tadc kinger #tadc gangle #tadc jax #tadc zooble #ghost reader #child reader #tw body horror #platonic #headcanons #halloween

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eddiesghxst · 6 months

Text

PRICE OF FAME (PART 8/12)

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie is bad with words

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, drug and alcohol use, sexual themes, moreee jealous!eddie, mentions of piercings, smut, King James III, flirting, tension tension tension, and eddie being... idk, here u go <3

word count: 6.2k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

“A date?”

The room has kicked into an orderly chaos compared to how it was just seconds ago. Richie is rallying the boys out of the room, an assistant is walking through with a trash bag to clean up the disastrous aftermath of pre-show rituals, and James is looking at you like you both have all the time in the world.

“Yeah, I mean… we don’t have to call it a date,” he shrugs, “we can just… hang out, maybe? Grab a bite to eat, maybe? Whatever you want.”

And oh god, Eddie was right.

And fuck— Eddie.

You scan the room for any sign of Eddie, but you find none, just the remains of smoke in the air and an irritated assistant picking up sticky bottles.

James’ hand has dropped from your waist, and his fingertips now lightly dance across the back of your hand, slinking around to grasp two of your fingers and give a light squeeze. Your heart races, eyes snapping back to his kind gaze. “Oh, um… okay, yeah.” You nod.

James smiles and tells you he’ll be out in the crowd with you in a little bit, and you nod before making your way out of the room.

You said yes.

You said yes to James’ date, and honestly, a small part of you is excited because, god, it’s been such a long time since you’ve been on a date.

It’s hard to find time to date when you’re busy jumping from band to band, writing articles and music reviews, and still, somehow, managing to balance your own home life.

However, you were also under the impression that you and James had more of a friendship than anything romantic, so a bigger part of you is shocked (and slightly annoyed that Eddie managed to catch onto it before you did).

And then there’s that feeling. That tiny feeling in the corner of your mind that just wishes it was Eddie who had asked you. It’s a small feeling, yes, but it has a loud voice, and you find yourself growing irritated that you’re even thinking about Eddie when he only ever made things difficult.

But is it wrong to want somebody who doesn’t know what they want for themselves? Is it wrong to want someone who can’t even bring themselves to look you in the eye and be honest for one minute?

Because it’s no secret, the chemistry brewing between you and Eddie, from the moment you met, there was an obvious attraction, and the only thing that got in the way of that was Eddie’s aversion towards your job— which is beyond your control.

And though there’s obviously a sexual attraction between you both, you can’t seem to deny the emotional connection you also share— because you and Eddie are more alike than what meets the eye.

Clearly, you both share a love for music, but you also grew up with similar experiences— from being teased for being and liking different things than your peers to having your heart broken by who you imagined would be your forever person.

God, why are you thinking about Eddie when you’ve just scored a date with James?

You’re not paying attention when you step out of the dressing room, so you’re shocked and slightly spooked when you feel a hand wrapping around your bicep and tugging you off to the side of the door.

It’s Eddie; you know it’s Eddie because you’ve become an expert at depicting Eddie’s scent, and right now, you’re drowning in him.

Eddie’s eyes are sharp and angry with a chilling undertone of something you can’t quite pinpoint. Fear? Jealousy? Resistance?

“Not into each other, huh?”

You blink at Eddie, still trying to find your way through the daze of events you’ve just gone through, and your eyebrows furrow in annoyance, “Oh, for fucks sake, Eddie. Are you serious—” “You can’t stand here and lie to me when I just witnessed whatever the fuck that was in there.” He gestures to the wall beside you, the wall that separates you and Eddie from James.

“It wasn’t anything.” You lie.

Eddie doesn’t buy it, however, because he’s leaning in closer, alcohol and mint-coated breath fanning across your face as he calmly asks, “Then what did he say?”

You shake your head, dizzy with his proximity and the fear that James could walk out any second and see you and Eddie practically pressed against each other and misread the situation— because even though you may not precisely like James romantically, you still care for him, and you don’t want to hurt his feelings.

How will you let him down easily after the date, then? What if the date goes well, and James thinks you’re more interested in him than you actually are? This is a mess, and your mind is a whirlwind of things you shouldn’t have done.

You blink through the haze once again, “Huh?”

Eddie’s jaw ticks, “What did he say to you? You looked shocked; what’d he say?”

Oh god, Eddie saw that? You thought he’d maybe have gotten bored of watching, and now you wish Richie had bursted through the doors just a few seconds earlier. And why do you even care? Why do you care that Eddie saw or what his reaction might be if you tell him the truth?

Your heart is racing, and Eddie’s eyes are beautiful, and he’s still holding your arm, and you hate how much you want to scream at him to just let you in. Because, suddenly, you don’t want to go on a date with James, even if James is the kinder route, the more willing candidate, the one that makes more sense.

“Why do you care, Eddie?” You snap.

“Because I,” Eddie pauses, frustration settling into his bones. He looks at you like you might be the only thing he’s ever truly seen, and you don’t realize how your fingers are curling around his elbow, both of your fingertips sinking into the warmth of what could be.

“Eddie!”

Eddie removes his hand from you as if your skin is hot to the touch, and you drop your hand as well, curling your fingers into the palm of your hand and clenching with a deep breath.

Eddie turns to Richie, who’s holding a clipboard and barking directions at staff and crew. “Come on, man, you’re on in 30.” Richie waves his hand.

Eddie turns back to you, dark eyes now cleared and holding urgency as he speaks, “Can you just— fuck,” Eddie tugs at his curls, and your face twists in confusion. You say his name at the same time that Richie calls him once again, and Eddie grumbles, “One second, Rich!” Eddie calls back.

“Just don’t go anywhere for the first few songs, okay?”

“What?”

“Eddie, 10 seconds!”

And Eddie’s pacing backward as he speaks to you, “Just the first few songs. Please?”

Please. You never thought you would hear that word coming from Eddie— and your stomach twists, but you nod anyway, and then Eddie’s off to the stage.

For some reason, tonight has spun out in ways you’re having trouble wrapping your mind around, and you barely hear James walking out of the room until he presses a gentle hand to your shoulder, pulling your eyes to him.

He has your lightweight jacket in one hand as he offers it to you, “I was thinking maybe we could dip out now? I know a good place for burgers, and I figure we’ve seen the show plenty of times now— I mean, unless if you’d still like to watch, that’s not a problem,” He’s rambling, and you find it cute, so you reach out a hand to press to his arm and thank him for your jacket.

And you feel bad, glancing over your shoulder as you hear the crowd screaming upon the band's entrance, but you figure James is right— you have seen the show plenty of times, so one night off won’t hurt, will it? And besides, it’s not the big finale yet, so you’re not really missing anything.

You nod as you slip on your jacket, “Yeah, let’s go; I’m in the mood for a good meal anyway.”

James’ universe is fun and bright and spontaneous, all things he is. It’s something you find yourself admiring as you watch him jump from game to game at the arcade he dragged you to after dinner.

You were both full and satisfied from heavy burgers and fries, and James decided you both needed a way to shake off the food coma; and, as James said, “What better way to wake up than lose money in a bunch of rigged games?”

You start strong with a winning streak in Mortal Kombat, Daytona USA, and Star Wars, but you eventually lose your stretch when James crushes you in Dance Dance Revolution. You made him go a second time, but you still lost, and James called your frown cute, and it made your stomach twist because— fuck, this is a date. You aren’t here as just friends.

You make your way around the arcade until you both decide to call it a night and wrap it up with a few rounds of Pac-Man. It’s chillier in the city tonight, so James takes it upon himself to haul over a taxi to take you both to the hotel.

It’s nearing midnight when you and James walk into the hotel lobby, well past the ending of the show, and you’re holding your breath all the way to the elevator, silence taking over when the doors shut. And tonight was fun and lighthearted, and you’d hate to end it on a dull note.

You should just rip the bandaid off. Do it quick and get it over with so you don’t mislead James, because god, he’s such a good guy, and you’re just… you’re all confused with yourself and— fuck, James is looking at you, just do it.

“I think we should just stay friends.” You rush out.

If James is surprised, you wouldn’t be able to tell by a long shot because he’s simply shoving a hand in his pockets and shrugging, “Yeah, I kind of figured when you avoided holding my hand.” He scratches at his neck, and you fail to hold back the sympathetic twist on your face, “I had a really great time, I did, but I just can’t do anything serious right now…” You shyly explain, and James nods his head.

It falls awkwardly silent, and you curse Richie for booking the entire crew near the top of the building because the floor numbers seem to change slower than the seasons. James breaks the silence just four floors away from your destination, “It’s Eddie, isn’t it?”

You freeze at that, head snapping to look at James in shock, “I— what?”

James shrugs for the second time and turns to the doors, “I kind of clocked it as soon as you joined; you two have some weird thing going on.” He halfheartedly teases, and you feel your body heating up because if James can notice it, then who else has noticed it? God, this is more of a mess than you thought.

“Nothing is going on there,” you lie, “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but Eddie hates my guts, so.” You jokingly shrug. James laughs to ease the tension, only glancing back at you when you slow to a stop and the doors open, “I had a fun night, too, by the way. No hard feelings.” And with a wink, he wanders off to his room, and you’re left stepping out into the hallway. When you turn the corner, you find yourself wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole because right outside of your door stands Eddie Munson.

He watches you walk down the empty hall until you stand before him. He’s leaning a shoulder against your doorframe, one hand tucked in his pocket as the other works his cigarette back and forth from his lips. He’s in his usual all-black attire, and his eyes are dark beneath the smudged eyeliner and eyeshadow from the show. And it seems as if he got off the stage and came straight here, seeing as his hair is still slightly damp with sweat and the chains on his neck stick to his chest.

He speaks around a cloud of smoke, dark hooded eyes peering down at you with a gaze so sharp you almost cower, “Where were you?”

Jesus Christ, the audacity of this man.

Your initial thought is to snap back at him and ridicule him for being an asshole— and what’s his deal with always coming to your room? But then you remember you walked out on him when he’d asked you to stay for the first few songs.

“I’m sorry, Eddie, I—” “You went on a date.”

You freeze at that, blinking up at him as your face twists in confusion, “How do you know that?”

“Because where else would you be?” He counters.

“Maybe I got sick.” You argue, and Eddie raises an eyebrow, eyes dancing over your figure, “You don’t look sick.” He points out.

Your eyebrows pinch in frustration as Eddie takes another hit of his cigarette, “What do you want? I already said I’m sorry— which is much more than you’ve ever done, by the way.”

“I said sorry.” Eddie snaps. Eddie snuffs out his cigarette in the large plant next to the door as you scoff, turning to angrily shove your keycard into the door, “What, that shitty apology in the garden alleyway? You call that an apology? How fucking dense are you?” You open the door, moving to step in until Eddie’s fingers wrap around your arm, turning you back to him, “I said sorry. An actual apology, I did it, and you weren’t fucking there to hear it.” He seethes.

And woah, what the fuck does that mean? You weren’t there to hear it? What does he mean?

You blink, head shaking in confusion as you gaze up at Eddie, brows furrowed, eyes searching for an answer as you ask, “What do you mean?”

Eddie’s eyes are so beautiful, with swirling pools of forest ground and the tiniest specks of honey, and you believe somewhere within his eyes lives a fairy that gives him that ability to pull you in every time. He’s a hypnosis of a human, and it’s dangerous the way you can’t seem to fight through it.

Your eyes flutter shut when Eddie leans close enough to graze his lips over yours, and your heart races in anticipation of a kiss, but you can physically feel Eddie holding himself back.

“Eddie,” you lowly say, “What do you mean?”

Eddie turns his head to where his lips kiss the skin of your cheek, breath tickling the warm skin and sending shivers down your spine. He lets out a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes tight and muttering a curse under his breath as your hands slink up his chest to curl into the fabric of his shirt. The soft, curly strands of Eddie’s hair dance across your lips, and you want to scream because every inhale and exhale of your lungs is full of nothing but Eddie.

His name prances across your tongue once more, and Eddie cracks.

Eddie cracks wide open; one last hit of your hammer, and he’s putty in your hands, mouthing at you as if his life depended on it, devouring you and breathing you and pushing you until you have nowhere to go but inside your room.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie mumbles against your lips. “I’m sorry… let me make it up to you.”

You’re breathless and dizzy from lack of air, and Eddie is pushing you back onto the hotel bed, “I— what?”

Eddie’s fingers slip under your top, cool fingers pressing into your warm skin and causing your breath to hitch against his lips, “Let me make you feel good.” Eddie whispers against your lips.

And fuck, this is insane.

This is insane.

Just a few hours ago, you would’ve shoved Eddie away from you and told him to eat shit, but for some reason, with the way Eddie’s touching you and talking so gently, you find your body melting into his touch as you nod your head. “Yes?” Eddie seems like he doesn’t believe it, and your stomach twists as you clench your thighs together, nodding once more, “Yes.” You confirm.

Eddie kisses you once again, hastily and eagerly, as his hands push your top further up your torso. Your muscles tense and twitch beneath Eddie’s calloused fingers, and Eddie hums against the softness of your mouth, panting against your lips as he repeats, “Gonna make you feel good. Make up for what I did.”

You breathlessly laugh, “S’gonna take a lot more than this, Munson.”

And although you were slightly serious with that comment, you suppose Eddie takes it as more of a challenge as he shoves your top entirely over your chest, pulling away to tug the shirt off of you and toss it to the side.

Eddie surges forward to press sloppy kisses against the uncovered skin of your chest, sucking tiny little marks as he moves further down your body, pressing a hand to your chest to push you down into the bed when he reaches the waistband of your skirt.

It’s a black denim skirt, and Eddie takes a moment to admire how they hug your thighs perfectly— and he can’t seem to bring himself to remove it from your waist, so he pushes the skirt up around your hips instead. Your heart is racing, and you can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks as you attempt to close your thighs, but Eddie places his palms flat against the warm insides of them.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting shy on me already. I haven’t even taken off these cute little panties of yours.” Eddie presses a thumb to your cotton-covered clit, dragging the pad of his thumb down your slit and pressing into the damp spot. Your breath hitches, sparks flying throughout your body, and Eddie smiles. You whine, “I thought you were apologizing.” You frown.

Eddie hums, leaning forward to press a kiss right where your thigh meets the fold of your pussy. You squirm, and Eddie snickers, “I am.” He responds.

You sit up to lean on your elbows, glaring down at him between your thighs as you speak, “You’re not. You’re just teasing me.” You point out.

Eddie doesn’t respond as he hooks his fingers into the band of your panties, drags them down your legs, and drops them to the side, gaze flickering up to yours as you clench your thighs together. Eddie holds your gaze as he wraps his arms around your thighs, hooking his hands into the dip of your waist and tugging you to the edge of the bed. Your center throbs in anticipation as Eddie sinks to his knees on the carpet floor, dark eyes still locked onto yours as he fits his upper body between your thighs.

And Eddie doesn’t even bother looking between your thighs when he dips his head in and begins devouring you.

Eddie, you find, eats pussy like he has all the time in the world.

He’s sloppy with it, lapping at your center and suckling your clit until you’re a whiney mess beneath him. His fingers curl into the denim skirt that’s bunched around your hips, and his rings tauntingly wink up at you under the light as he clenches his fist against the material, tugging you closer to him so he can thrust his tongue further into you.

While Eddie is busy tasting you, you scramble to reach behind your back and unhook your bra. Between your thighs, Eddie watches as you toss the garment off to the side before cupping your tits in your hands and rolling your nipple between your middle and forefingers. Eddie moans against you, burying his face deeper into you and suckling enough to have you crying out in pleasure.

Eddie pulls back for a moment, sticky strings of his saliva and your arousal dripping from his lips as he removes one hand from your waist to sink two fingers into your cunt. You pant out his name, your face twisting in pleasure when he curls his fingers up against your walls. Your eyes are screwed shut so you don’t see Eddie leaning forward to purse his lips together and let a drop of saliva drip over your pussy and sinfully coat your clit. He’s quick to attach his mouth to the throbbing bundle of nerves, and you reach out a hand to thread your fingers through his hair, knuckles curling at the root to drag an animalistic growl from Eddie.

Eddie is one of the best, if not the best, head you’ve ever received. By the time you begin teetering over the edge, your thighs are twitching and tensing as if you’ve already come undone, and your chest is heaving beneath Eddie’s fingers as he toys with your tits.

When you cum, Eddie becomes greedier than he’d been before, licking and slurping up every last drop you have to give until you’re twitching away from him and pressing a shaky hand to his shoulder.

Eddie slinks up your body, sinking his fingers into his mouth to clean off your wetness before you slink an arm around his shoulders and pull him down to kiss you. Eddie’s fingers are wet as they cup the left side of your face, and the feeling of something wet on your face would usually have you cringing in distaste, but you only moan and press yourself further into Eddie.

You mumble for him to take his shirt off, and Eddie follows swiftly, too eager to go back to kissing you. He shivers when your hands meet his bare chest, fingertips exploring the vast expanse of untold stories in ink, hard yet plush muscles of his arms flexing beneath your touch.

“I wasn’t done saying sorry.” Eddie pants against your lips, and you breathily laugh, “You can finish some other time; I want to feel you now.” You respond, busying your hands with trailing down his lower stomach, sinking past the waistband of his leather pants.

Eddie kisses his way down your neck to begin sucking pretty bruises into the skin, and your core clenches when you realize Eddie is wearing nothing beneath the leather pants— and you try hard not to imagine how he’s probably been pressed up against the rough fabric, achy tip undeniably receiving pleasure from the sinful ways he uses his hips when he’s on stage.

Your shock doesn’t end there, however, because when you sink lower to wrap your hand around his cock, your body goes still at the feeling beneath your fingertips. Against the fiery skin of your cheek, you feel Eddie’s lips stretch into a smile and your heart races.

“What’s the matter, princess? Find something you like, hm?” Eddie can’t help the way his voice shakes near the end because you're giving his cock an experimental squeeze and running a finger over the sudden surprise.

You smile as you speak, “Is that a piercing?”

Eddie hums, turning his head, nose smashing against the side of yours as he presses a kiss to the side of your mouth, “Maybe..” He teasingly confirms.

And god, you might pass out.

Eddie’s dick is pierced. You’re not sure what more you’d expect from a rockstar, but you’re still shocked and ushering him to remove the annoying restriction of his pants.

When Eddie finally gets rid of his leather pants, you’ve shifted to sit on your knees in the middle of the bed, and Eddie stalks over to the edge of the bed, beckoning you over.

You don’t waste time crawling over to him, eyes stuck on the pretty sight before you. And sure, it’s not the first time you’ve seen a pierced dick (you’ve spent too much time working with rockstars), but it sure as hell is the first time you’ll be fucking one— not to mention his cock is perfect. It’s shaped and cut to perfection, something you’d expect from a pornstar, but Eddie is not a pornstar, and god, the sight of the metal barbell nestled right beneath the pink tip on the underside of his cock— it’s dizzying to see.

You peer up at Eddie, wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking him once, chest fluttering when he fails to hold back a moan. “It’s really pretty, Eddie.” You softly say, and Eddie sheepishly and breathlessly laughs as you squeeze at his tip. “Want you to fuck me with it.”

Eddie groans, muttering a curse as he leans forward to press his lips against yours, pushing you until you’re crawling back up the bed to lay beneath him.

“I’ve never been with someone with a piercing…” You admit, and Eddie smiles at you, and your stomach twists when he reaches down to gently guide your movement up and down the length of his cock.

“Really? You’ve never fucked a pierced cock before?” He manages to say through his pleasure. Your teeth dig into the inside of your cheek as you shake your head no, and Eddie snickers when you ask, “Have you?”

His lips quirk into a smile, “Honey, you think I got the piercing done without a test run on how it feels?” He jokes.

You snort at that, and Eddie beams at you. You swipe your thumb over his leaking tip, and Eddie curses, watching as you mindlessly bring the glistening pad of your finger up to your tongue and hum.

“How’s it taste, sweetheart?” Eddie teases, and you hum as you respond, “Good. So good, wish I could taste more—” “No, no, no.” Eddie cuts you off with a shake of his head, reaching down to wrap a fist around himself.

“This isn’t about me. Plus, I’m losing my patience right now; I’ve been thinking about this since I fucking met you.” He presses himself flat against your pussy, and you gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders as he rolls his hips to slide himself up and down your wet cunt, the cool metal of the piercing catching onto your clit and sending shivers up your spine.

His gaze falls between your thighs to watch as your slick centers meet, cursing at the way your wet folds part around each drag of his cock. “You have such a pretty pussy, princess, fuck.” He rasps.

Your mind is spinning with the roll of Eddie’s hips, his dirty compliment, and his admission that he’s thought of fucking you before. You don’t dare to tell him you’ve thought of it too or that you’ve gotten off to the thought of it. You don’t even have to think about it because the tip of Eddie’s cock is catching the slickness of your entrance, and you’re gasping, body jerking in pleasure. Your lips accidentally smear against Eddie’s shoulder, and he hums, tilting his head and dipping to catch your lips in a sloppy kiss.

As he distracts you with his mouth, he slowly presses into you, and you lose your ability to keep up with Eddie’s lips because holy fuck— Eddie is bigger than you thought. Sure, you got a good look at him when he removed his pants to show you his surprise, but your mind must’ve been too muddled with lust to clock the size of him.

You can feel everything as he sinks into you, every vein running up the sides, and the mind-numbing sensation of the barbell as he presses into you. “Holy shit,” you breathlessly whisper against the skin of his shoulder, legs tightening around his waist as the burning yet toe-curling feeling settles in. Eddie snickers above you, “That good?”

You’re coherent enough to snap back at his cockiness, “No.”

Eddie laughs, and you want to make a snippy comeback, but it gets lost on your tongue when Eddie gives his hips one experimental roll.

Eddie is pathetically close to cumming.

Eddie’s cock has only been nestled within your warm, wet, pulsing walls for barely two minutes, and he’s about to blow like he’s a goddamn teenager— and it doesn’t help how heavenly you sound and look writhing beneath him.

Eddie’s not sure where to look; your face, your tits, or the hypnotizing sight of your cunt sucking him in over and over with each thrust he gives you. “Fuck,” he curses, “You’re taking me so well, princess.” He leans in the nose at your cheek before licking at the curve of your jaw, shivering at the wet moan you pant into his ear.

“Been hiding this pretty pussy from me?” Eddie hums, sucking a delicate bruise right below your ear. And god, Eddie could spend forever like this, drilling into you and marking you everywhere and pulling these pretty sounds from you. Eddie’s so close, oh god.

You mewl at his words, hips squirming as Eddie snaps his hips into you, “No,” you whine, “You’ve been mean to me.” And Eddie thinks you’re awfully cute when you’re blissed out and pouting. And your eyes are glossy, lips slick with spit and swollen from kissing.

Eddie wishes he had a photographic memory because he doesn’t want to forget a single detail of this moment. Eddie has one hand clutching the sheets beside your head as he lets the other hand coast up your side to land on your chest, thumb brushing over your nipple to pull a moan from you. “I know,” Eddie lowly replies, “I’m sorry, princess.” He kisses your chin, and you clench around him.

Eddie’s fist clenches around the sheet, fighting to hold himself back as he presses deep into you and stills, cock twitching within your walls. “Gonna let me show you how sorry I am?” He asks.

You're hazy and cockdrunk, and Eddie can’t wait to unpack the fact that you go braindead when you’re fucked good. Eddie nudges himself into you, although he’s pressed all the way into your cunt, and you whimper before eagerly nodding.

“Yeah?” Eddie teases. You nod again, fingers digging into Eddie’s arm as you speak, “Yes, Eddie— fuck. Yeah, show me, please.”

Eddie almost loses it.

It’s slightly scary how much Eddie likes this, how much he’s enjoying this— the feeling of you beneath him, the wetness, the heat, the sweat-sticky touches, and the sloppy smattering of kisses. God, Eddie’s in love with it.

The short five-second break Eddie managed to pull from questioning (teasing) you was enough for him to get ahold of himself. Eddie sits up and grasps the back of your knee, hauling your leg over his shoulder to get a better angle at fucking you, and you gasp when his cock rubs against your spot.

Eddie doesn’t waste time once he gets the position situated. He leaves one hand splayed beside your head to hold him up as the other hand grips the warm flesh of your thigh before resuming his thrusting, this time at a deeper and quicker pace.

The sound of skin meeting and the wet sloshing noise of sex echoes through the room amongst the mix of moans and sultry-soaked remarks. Eddie doesn’t notice his hand slipping from your thigh and slinking up to wrap around your neck, but he hesitates when you whimper. He almost removes his hand, but you wrap a shaky hand around his wrist and nod— and fuck, Eddie will never be the same man after this.

Eddie can feel the heat and the pulse of your heart as his fingers tighten around your neck. Your moans are becoming more and more frequent and higher in pitch, and Eddie can feel the way you’re fluttering around him more sporadically, and he can’t wait to feel it when you cum.

Eddie leans over you, lips brushing your parted ones as he encourages you to let go, “Come on, let me feel it. I’m not leaving until you soak my cock, princess.”

Your body is on fire.

It’s almost alarming how easily and well Eddie has unraveled you. His presence is nearly overwhelming with the way he’s hovering so close over you, but you love it— the tickle of his long curls on your shoulders and chest, the intoxicating smell of him, the dizzying hold he has around your neck— you preen for it.

You’re so close when Eddie tells you to cum, and you barely have enough time to prepare for the earth-shattering orgasm that ripples through you the second Eddie presses a thumb to your aching clit and rubs tight circles against it.

Your body tenses, and your moans crack upon the surface as you melt into him until you’re nothing but a quivering mess. Eddie talks you through it, tells you how pretty you sound and how good you feel wrapped around him. Your orgasm had hit you so hard that you barely registered the broken moan that came from Eddie before he pushed deep into you and emptied every last drop of himself into your pulsing heat.

Eddie curses, his cock pulsing within you, and you let out an exhausted yet satisfied sigh when he rolls his hips into you once more. You’re both silent for a long moment as you come back down to earth, Eddie’s forehead pressed against your shoulder as you subconsciously let your hand run up the side of his torso.

Eddie shifts to turn his head to where he can slightly see your face as he still hides against your shoulder, “Apology accepted?”

Saturday morning, the next day, you wake up and want to bury yourself under the hotel sheets.

Last night was… interesting, to say the least. It was good— mind-blowing— but you still have that lingering feeling in your chest that maybe you and Eddie shouldn’t have slept together. Maybe you let him in too quickly. Maybe it was all a lie, Eddie’s ‘apology’. All the gentle caresses and the passion-filled kisses with the heart flutter words. Maybe it was all for show, just to get you to let your walls down so he could have at you.

Eddie didn’t spend the night with you.

In fact, Eddie practically ran out the door after your extremities were over, and you were left with the aftermath of spinning thoughts and an aching chest. So much for sorry.

The dining room is buzzing with chatter and laughter of excitement— today is the last off day before the final show of the residency— but you’re too in your head to join in on the conversation because Eddie won’t even look at you.

Your throat feels tight, and you spend the majority of breakfast just pushing your food around the plate, and you manage to pull a smile and nod your head when Naomi asks if you’re okay. But fuck, you want to scream.

You should’ve never believed Eddie when he told you he’d change or when he practically spent the entire night worshipping your body and begging for your forgiveness. Eddie didn’t want forgiveness. He just wanted to fuck you, and you should’ve known that from the second he kissed you.

But Eddie’s kisses can tell a hell of a lie, and damn you for falling for them.

You’re spooked when you feel a hand rest on your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts. It’s Richie, and he peers down at you and gives you a tight-lipped smile as he leans in and lowly speaks, “Can I speak with you outside?”

You nod, dropping your fork onto your plate and quietly rising from your chair. And for the first time today, Eddie looks at you. Your chest tightens, and you think it’s stupid that you’d been upset about this because it’s Eddie for fucks sake. He’s a rockstar, and he surely never made the mistake of presenting himself as if he was anything other than a man who fucks whoever they want and moves on the next day. Eddie’s jaw ticks, he looks away, and you bite your tongue as anger floods your body.

You ignore it as you turn around and follow Richie into the hallway.

You’re hardly paying attention when you both step out of the room, but the slamming of the door is the cue for Richie to start speaking. “Listen, Birdie,” he begins, “You know I adore you. I’m always in your corner, no matter what… But I have to put my boys first.”

It’s concerning, the way Richie is beginning this conversation, and it’s even worse when he can’t seem to look you in the eye for more than five seconds at a time. Your heart rate picks up, and you begin to think maybe…

No, Richie can’t know. There’s no way he’d know, right? Unless if someone told him. One of the band members, or James, or— fuck, there’s too many people that know at this rate. But you didn’t think it would reach Richie.

No, you’re just spinning out. Richie doesn’t know, and this is about something else; it has to be.

You shake your head, brows furrowed as you speak, “I’m not sure I understand.”

Richie glances around the corridor and shifts in his spot, scratching at the back of his neck as he speaks, “Listen, I uh,” he glances at you, and your heart drops because you now know why he’s pulled you aside.

“I know about you and Eddie.”

————

part nine

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a/n: hiiii, you made it to the end !! IM SORRY FOR ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER FRIENDS, i promise there won't be anymore from here on out (i think hehe), BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS SMUTTY LITTLE PART, thank you for reading, ilysm and i appreciate all and any feedback <3

————

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bless-my-demons · 7 months

Text

Redamancy: Chapter Seventeen

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Angst and cuss words

Notes: The impatient part of me just wants Jasper back, but I have to power through for the plot. I also have that scene written and it taunts me every time I open my Docs🥲

Word Count: 2010

Series Masterlist

Reader

They say grief is just left over love.

Well I have plenty of grief then, because I never got to pour it into the person it was meant for. It's rotting away inside my chest and leaking from the cracks. It spills from my eyes and scratches my throat, flooding everything and it doesn't seem to end.

Is there an end?

I don't think there is, because I don't just miss him - I miss something that'll never happen. A life I'll never live, one where it's just me and him and eternity stretches out before us endlessly.

• January 16th, 2005 • Home •

Reader

My phone buzzes in my pocket letting me know I'm getting an incoming call. Fishing it out, Bella Swan flashes across the screen and I'm stunned.

"Hello?" I answer hesitantly.

"Hey Y/n, I um - well I was wondering if you wanted to catch a movie? With Jessica and I, tonight?"

"Oh uh-"

"You don't have to-" She interrupts me, clearly sensing my hesitation, but I stop her before she could back out.

"No! I'd love to, let me call my mom and tell her I'll be gone when she gets home from work."

"Okay, cool. I'll be there in like, twenty minutes." Ending the call, I stare at my phone in wonder.

Bella has been catatonic the last 3 months and now she's down for movies like nothing has happened? Shaking my head, I call my mom while slipping my shoes on in the hallway, she picks up on the second ring.

"Hey sweetie, I was just about to call you and see what you wanted for dinner!" Her cheerie voice tugs on my heart strings, I think she's trying to over-compensate in the hopes that'll it'll bring my own mood up.

"About that, Bella Swan just called and asked if I could go with her to the movies-"

"Absolutely! Do you need money? There's some in-" The excitement in her voice is almost comical.

"Mom, I have money. I just didn't want you to worry if I wasn't home when you got off." The line is silent for a few beats before she answers.

"Honey, go have fun with your friends and don't worry about me! I love you, sweat pea."

"Love you too." Tears begin to prick at the corners of my eyes suddenly.

"Call me if you need me?" Her question is soft, not wanting to spook me into canceling.

"Always." I smile sadly to no one in the empty house before hanging up.

Bella's tires on her old truck crackle on our gravel driveway and I snag a jacket before bolting out of the front door.

I can do this, I can be normal and enjoy my friends for a few hours.

• January 16th, 2006 • Port Angeles, WA •

Reader

Not only did Bella manage to get me out of the house for a few hours, but she also talked me into watching a scary movie about zombies - one of my least favorite monster movie types. I don't do the jump scares, the suspense, the chasing - nope, none of that is for me.

The worst part was wishing I had him to just hold my hand, because with him I'm invincible. Well, was invincible. With every one of my lurches and under-my-breath curses, I know he'd be chuckling at my expense. Somehow that made the hole in my chest wider, darker.

At some point, going out and doing everyday things has to get back to normal. This piece of me that's rotting away inside can't keep continuing to fester and grow, its so fucking tiring.

Relief floods my chest and limbs as the credits begin scrolling. Looking to my right I can tell Bella is unamused and Jessica on her other side didn't enjoy it.

"Okay, next girl's movie night, I'm picking the movie." I tell them, exasperation leaking into my tone.

Both girls glance at me and raise eyebrows as we stand and exit the theater.

"Don't give me that look, zombies freak me out!"

"They're not real-" Bella teases me with a smile, but realization stops her comment and I try to hide my falling face from Jessica as she walks ahead of us in the lobby.

Vampires weren't real, until we met them. Fuck, everything brings us right back to them-

"-If it's supposed to draw a parallel about leprosy, my cousin had leprosy, it's not funny 'ya know." Jessica Stanley takes the cake when it comes to filling silence with conversation, even if it's one-sided.

Walking back to Bella's truck, I'm only half-paying attention to Jess as she rattles on. If I've learned anything from her since my first day at Forks, it's that I need to take everything she says with a grain of salt.

"I was surprised you even called at all." I lift my head in surprise at Jessica's statement, not quite rude but... "Like, your guys' depression thing - I get it-" Glancing between Bella and I, the train wreck falling from her mouth continues, "I'm totally, totally worried. But after a while... you're still not over them, but I'm going through stuff too 'ya know."

I almost want to laugh, not at her, but... it's almost funny how one person has basically derailed my life and Jessica Stanley thinks it's just seasonal depression.

Turning to Bella, I notice she's watching a group of bikers at the next street corner over.

"How 'bout a ride, girls?" One of them calls, watching the three of us.

As Bella gets a far-off look in her eye, Jessica moves to stand in front of her to get her attention.

"Dude, c'mon." Inclining her shoulder to continue moving down the street, she gives Bella a weird look, waiting.

"I think I know those guys." I reach out to put a hand on Bella's arm, but she's already stepping towards the group of men.

"Well they seem great, can we go?" Jessica pleads.

"I just need to see something." Bella sounds like she's in a daze and I start to worry as she begins walking to their street corner.

I have an instinct to follow my friend at the same time a tingle spreads across the back of my scalp, danger. The sensation almost draws a gasp from my lips, finally something other than just emptiness holed up in my chest.

I start after Bella, half to make sure my friend is alright and half to... chase this different feeling.

"Alright, alright! We've got takers." One of them says smugly.

These aren't safe men, turn around.

I stutter and almost trip on the uneven pavement. It's almost like he whispered the words in my ear, if the January air didn't have such a chill to it - I'd swear it was his breath on my neck.

A piece of me that had been dormant since Bella's birthday springs to life, I need to chase this. Just the instant craving to hear more of his imaginary voice drives me to stand beside my friend in front of a group of sketchy-looking bikers on a dark street late at night.

"Sorry, I thought you were someone else." I whip my head towards her, trying to figure out what she's got planned.

"That's cool, I'll be whoever you want me to be." Swinging a leg over his motorcycle, he gives her an expectant look. "So, what do ya say?"

After a few tense beats, she decided to hop on the back of the closest bike and they immediately take off into the night. I hesitate a few more beats, looking at the other bikers, waiting-

Don't get on another man's bike darlin', you’re mine.

Tears spring to the corner of my eyes and I turn around, not wanting to start crying out of the blue in front of a bunch of random strangers. I'm not his anymore, but I also can't bring myself to cling to the back of anyone else.

Jessica meets me halfway up the street, throwing up her hands in a 'what the fuck' motion.

"Um, care to explain?" She asks impatiently.

"I think she just wanted to see what it's like-" but I'm cut off as Jessica stomps past me, Bella rounding the corner of the building.

"Hey! What the hell is wrong with you? Just curious."

"I thought I saw something." Bella tried to explain, I try to meet eyes to see what's actually going on, but her eyes are glued to the ground.

"You-oh, You're insane actually. Or suicidal. That homeboy? Could've been a psycho. I was about to end up in an FBI interview room like some lame TV show." Jessica rants as we walk away.

"Ugh, that was such a rush."

"Awesome, so you're an adrenaline junkie now? That's cool, you can go bungee jumping. You don't get on the back of some loser's motorcycle! Crazy." Stomping off towards her own car, I hang back with Bella. She's not wrong, but she also doesn't get it.

"Let's go home?" I ask my friend, grabbing her hand and leading her towards the beat up old red truck.

Is danger how I see-or rather hear him again? My heart picks up speed at the thought - I'm not one for dangerous situations, but I also can't get the idea out of my head. It's like my heart is at war with my brain, one with a crushing addiction and the other with the instinct for self-preservation.

A new war has kicked off inside of me and I have no idea which side will win.

• January 16th, 2006 • Ithaca, New York •

Jasper

Reading a book I found in Carlisle's study to pass the time, an unfamiliar uneasy feeling settles in my gut. Closing the book, I check everyone that's home to make sure it isn't one of them and I come up normal. Alice, sitting across the room raises an eyebrow while reading her own magazine at my sudden shift in demeanor.

"Alice-"

"I won't check her every time you get a feeling, Jasper. You're the one who wanted to cut her out." The sting of her words find their target, but I can't ignore this.

"Please, I need to know if she's... alright." I plead, not ready to drop it.

"She hasn't been fucking alright this entire time-" but her snap-back halts immediately as her eyes adopt the familiar far-out gaze of her power.

Immediately I'm kneeling in front of her, worry begins to slither across my skin. Alice cranks down on her feelings, refusing to give any hints away to what she's seeing.

"Alice, please." I'm not usually one to beg, but for Y/n? I've noticed over time things like that have changed.

"She's fine." Drifting back to reality, she stands and shoves me off with a look, voice monotone in anger directed at me.

"What did you see?" I hound her, following her down the hall to her room.

"Nothing - it doesn't matter, she chose differently." She answers cryptically and it almost sends me into a spiral of the worst ideas.

I want to question her more, but she slams her door in my face effectively ending the conversation. Anger and frustration with a tinge of despair floats through the air mingled with my sister's scent. I know it's directed at me, I know it's my fault and I can't find the strength anywhere to wipe her feelings away. Almost as if my gift has resorted to the cruel and unusual punishment of feeling without the capacity to manipulate anymore.

My forehead thumps against the white wood in defeat.

At what point does this sore heal? Does this ache ever go away? How much time has to pass before she isn't occupying every single thought of every single second of the day? I've read that grief is supposed to ebb and flow, but this - this is more of a steady current, a nonstop hotwire through my chest that's painfully constricting the long-dead heart within.

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[nano_owl] and [gregg_thecat] for some reason Tumblr won’t look you up with the underscores and searching before the underscore doesn’t pull up your blogs as available for tag🥺

The rest of you, tumblr says there’s no blogs that are available for tag! Please please please don’t hesitate to message me so I can fix!

#bless-my-demons #redamancy series #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale fanfiction #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #twilight #jasper hale x female!reader #jasper hale #female reader insert

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kc5rings · 1 year

Text

Man, I want an Abyssal Hunter summer event

WAIT PUT DOWN THE BRICK TRUST ME

Let me set the scene, it’s post Stultifera Navis and medical recommends Laurentina take a bit of leave time somewhere she can comfortably relax and get used to the occasional switch back to Specter. Of course Skadi and Gladiia (maybe Andreana too, though I’m not sure how she’d be assigned there) accompany her to keep an eye on things

Now, it’s clearly established that the Hunters adore the ocean and it’s comforting waves and depths, but for obvious reasons the real ocean is out of the question for a relaxing trip

But, what about the fresh waters of Siesta’s manmade inland sea/lake? Comforting deep waters and only minimal horrors! Probably!

So things start out normal, and per Kal’tsit’s specific request the Hunters keep a low profile. We get some good interactions between Laurentina and Specter getting comfy with each other, maybe a beat or two of the other Hunters accepting them as two individuals in one body etc

Then boom, we have our crisis. Some gang/group of thieves/Government spooks etc descend on the resort and take control of things, setting up a hostage situation. And Specter ends up one of the “Hostages”

From there on it’s a Guy Ritchie movie of these hardened badasses who had the perfect plan all laid get, getting bodied at every turn because they foolishly hadn’t anticipated Fucking Supersoldiers on vacation

The narrative keeps hopping between Specter with the hostages, Laurentina occasionally taking over a making a mess before switching back and leaving the dudes scratching their heads over why their buddy Jerry is out cold when the only one near by was that quiet nun, and the other Hunters moving through these dudes like paper trying to find Laurentina

The most important part here is, Kal’tsit’s specific request that they keep a low profile and the Hunters not viewing a few armed goons as a legitimate threat means they are actively trying not to kill anyone.

Laurentina is having a fun home alone/hide and seek game with the Hunters casually trying to find where she’s wandered off to. Meanwhile the goons are experiencing a combination of The Thing and Snatch with no goddamn idea what’s going on

Add in an exasperated local guide/someone from Rhodes who is supposed to keep tabs on them trying to keep up and I think we’ve got the basis for a fantastic/funny summer event

#arknights #Abyssal Hunters #Somehow the climax is fighting a giant sea monster/aquatic mech #I’m really just chasing the fun in Grani and the Knights Treasure #Where it highlights what true freaks the Hunters are by having them interact with Normal Dudes #it could also be set in Dossoles which might work better

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angelxd-3303 · 1 year

Note

We’re there ever times when taking care of Luigi was to much for Mario?

As much as Pauline hated to say it, she expected some kind of blow up. Since the boys had shown up sick as dogs, she'd nursed them back to health, and they had hesitantly agreed to stay. Mario still shot her distrustful glares, and daily reminded her that if she said a word about them they'd leave. Nevertheless, he was slowly starting to relax.

His brother's trust in Pauline certainly seemed to help; Luigi quickly latched onto her. She had to admit, the little guy was really growing on her. Pauline had never thought of having kids; far too busy putting herself through school and climbing up the figurative ladder to get where she was. Being greeted by a bright smile and a tight hug every morning, however, stirred something deep within Pauline, and more and more she began to wonder how she ever got on without them.

Mario was far more reserved, but she counted each approving nod and barely-there smile as a victory. Baby steps.

Pauline couldn't even say how it happened. She had left the apartment to go shopping. All she knew is that she came home to a silence that unnerved her. Did they get spooked and leave?! She called for the boys, praying that they were still there. Finally, a quiet sob drew her into the living room.

Standing beside the couch was Luigi. The boy had his back to her, but she immediately knew something was wrong. His arms were plastered to his sides, small hands drawn into fists. He was shaking, and turned a tear stained face to Pauline as she approached. Immediately setting the bags down, Pauline was quick to cup his face in her hands.

"What happened, sweetheart?! Are you ok? Where is Mario?" At this, Luigi only cried louder. Pauline sighed, pulling him into her arms. Luigi might have just turned sixteen, but he was still very much an emotional child.

"I j- I just wanna help!" He whimpered, squeezing her tight. Pauline sat down on the couch, letting the boy cuddle into her side.

"I know, baby. It's ok. It'll be ok. What happened?" Luigi wiped his eyes, shaking his head.

"It's ok. I can…I can handle it." Pauline frowned slightly, but didn't push. Even with Luigi, she had to be careful. Especially when he was like this. Instead, she held him. As he slowly settled down, Luigi let Pauline rub his back soothingly. After a few minutes, he stood. Clearly still upset, the younger brother rubbed his arm sheepishly.

"I…I'm gonna go to our room. If that's ok." Pauline gave him an understanding nod, watching him shuffle out with no small amount of concern. She'd never seen the boys fight, what on earth happened?!

She turned to the balcony, where the slumped figure of Mario drew her attention. She stood, then hesitated. If she didn't get an answer from Luigi, what chance did she have with Mario?

Nevertheless, she continued. She announced her presence with a light tap on the glass door before sliding it open. Mario still flinched, furiously wiping his eyes as Pauline sat down on a chair nearby. Even after a few weeks of being there, the older boy still looked exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes made Pauline wonder if he was sleeping at all…

They sat in silence, Mario stubbornly keeping his eyes on the skyscrapers that surrounded them.

"Everything ok?" Pauline inquired gently. Mario scoffed.

"Yeah, peachy." He replied tartly. Then, he sighed. His gaze softened. After all this time, it still filled Pauline's heart with pain to see how much older Mario looked than he actually was.

"Luigi wants to get a job. To help out, I guess. I dunno, I think I just flew off the handle. I just…" He buried his face in his hands, letting out a shaky breath.

"I know the cops are still looking for us, and I'm just…" He trailed off, as if afraid to admit what was so obvious.

"You're scared, and that's ok." Mario's head snapped to look at her, as if bewildered. Pauline offered a gentle smile, hoping it hid the sorrow she felt for the boy. If she'd learned anything about Mario, it was that he hated to be pitied. It seemed to work, and he stared at her as if she'd opened up the wisdom of the universe to him.

"It's…ok? No, but I can't be scared! I've always had to be brave for Luigi, it's my job to protect him!" Pauline sighed, scooting a bit closer.

"Being brave doesn't mean you're not afraid, dear." She explained. "Being brave means doing what must be done even though you're scared, and that's what you've been doing."

"Mario, you are by far the bravest kid I've ever met, but you're still a kid. The decisions you've made, you've made them to protect your brother. So yeah, it's ok, and even understandable to be afraid."

Mario said nothing, turning back towards the setting sun. His eyes welled up with tears, and a choked sob left him. He clamped a hand over his mouth, desperately fighting the pain.

"Why…w-why is it so hard?" He finally rasped. Pauline cooed softly, scooting even closer to wrap an arm around his shoulders. They were shaking, and Pauline rested her head against his light brown hair. Mario hunched forward, curling in on himself as he finally let out a breathless sob. Pauline pulled him into her arms, and for once he didn't pull away. Instead, his arm came up, fist clutching the sleeve of her sweater.

"It's hard because you were never supposed to have to make the decisions you did. Your parents let you down, Mario, and you're doing the best you can. Like I said, though, you're still a kid yourself. You were never meant to raise your brother. Look at me, darling." Mario lifted his head, the weariness of those light blue eyes making Pauline tear up herself.

"You are doing the absolute best you can, and that's all anyone can ask of you. Mario, you don't have to do this alone anymore. I'm here to help. Please let me help." The boy blinked at her, more tears streaming down. Then, he surprised her.

He practically collapsed in her arms, arms around her in a death grip as he wailed into her shirt. Almost four years of pain and fear reared its ugly head in the form of heaving sobs and gasps for breath. Through it all, Pauline whispered soothingly to him, rubbing his back. She stared up at the sky, watching the sun go down as Mario cried himself to exhaustion. Finally, the waterworks slowed to the occasional hiccup, but Mario kept his grip on her just as firm. He rested his head on her shoulder, letting the woman run her fingers through his hair. It seemed to calm him, and the tears finally stopped.

Pulling away, Mario flushed as Pauline wiped his eyes. He didn't seem to want to let go, and Pauline wasn't about to push him off.

"I'm…I'm sorry…" Pauline shook her head.

"No. No, sweetheart. It's ok. I understand, believe me, I'm actually surprised it took this long for you to break down. You've been under so much stress, it'd tear down the best of us." Mario only sighed tiredly.

"I can't lose him."

"And you won't. Whatever happens, I'll be here to help you both." She promised, and for once it seemed as though he believed her. Pauline pulled him into another hug, giving a tearful chuckle as he sniffled.

"Well, I dunno about you, but I do not feel like cooking after all that. How about we order in? Whatever you'd like." Mario looked sheepish, then those eyes flitted up to her shyly.

"Maybe…maybe that pizza joint we got last time?" He inquired, as if Pauline would ever bring herself to say no. As it was, she smiled. She helped him up, and the two walked back into the apartment as the sky grew dark.

"Sure thing, dear. You guys like peppers on your pizza, right?"

Later, they'd coax Luigi out. They'd discuss the matter calmly, and Luigi would decide to wait until he was eighteen. That way, he couldn't be snatched up by cps if they found him.

Later, over steaming Brooklyn pizzas, Pauline would reflect on the circumstances. She'd never particularly asked for children, but hey!

What on earth would she do without them?

#mario #luigi #pauline Nintendo #my au #parental abandonment tw #fic drabble #hes so tired #Pauline just wants to be a good Mama

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yeehawkins · 8 months

Text

Ricki Tikki MacTavish

Back home for once, Soap brings Ghost over to his flat. A small visitor awaits them

Coming home is an exceptionally rare luxury. And an even more rare occurrence is Simon Riley actually having any time away from the field. Johnny wanted to seize his chance to get to know the other more. Plus, he knows Ghost has nowhere to go, so it was only right to invite him over to his place. Really, it was more of a plead than an invitation, as old habits rarely die with that man.

As they approach the apartment door, Soap pulls out a monstrosity of keys.

"How many fucking flats do you own?" Ghost states in astonishment.

"Just the one,'' Soap responds.

“Going to be here for ages trying to get into it.” Ghost states, rolling his eyes.

“Have a little faith.” Soap grins, almost magically flipping to the correct key with one cacophony of jingling, shaking it some more in triumph.

A little more jangling of keys, and Soap unlocks the apartment door, gesturing for Ghost to go ahead.

Ghost couldn't help but gawk upon entering. A few stains on the carpet notwithstanding, the place was downright pristine.

After tossing his bags by the door, Soap takes a look at his welcome guest.

"What? Never seen a clean flat before?" Soap teased.

"Well I certainly didn't expect one from you" Ghost retorted.

"Think I got the name by being filthy?"

"Oh I know where you got the name, slippery bastard" Ghost lets out a guffaw then picks up the shorter Scot, scooping him up in a hug. This knocks the air out of Soap a bit, and gets him blushing.

"Easy with the goods!" he laughs.

"That was easy"

Their banter is cut short, as there was someone else in the apartment. Ghost puts down his friend, and turns around. A small, fluffy tabby cat has made its presence known. The cat is quite loud, and continues to meow until Soap leans over to acknowledge her. He immediately melts at the sight of his beloved cat, scooping her up in his arms.

"Ricki! Oooh I've missed the hell out of you! My wee lady hold down the fort alright? Not give Ms. Darcy any trouble, did ya?"

Ghost watches as Soap devolves into a babbling Scottish mess at this cat. He lets out a chuckle, almost endeared at the display. "Didn't tell me you had a missus."

"Ah Ms. Darcy's just my landlord. Takes care of Ricki when I’m gone," says Soap.

"I mean the cat, MacTavish."

Snapping a bit out of his loving stupor, Soap tucks Ricki under his arm like a football. "This here's Ricki. My gran couldn't resist her face, but her allergies certainly could. So I took her in," He pauses to scritch the top of the cat's head with his other hand.

Ghost gives a genuine smile. His eyes go between Soap and Ricki, and raises his eyebrows at the man, clearly asking a question.

“Go ahead. Unlike me, she doesn’t bite.” Soap smirks, now holding Ricki like a baby.

Ghost almost seems apprehensive to pet the cat, not wanting to spook her. However as he moves his hand towards her, she pushes her face up to his hand, purring loudly.

“Aww, looks like you’re allowed to stay,” says Soap.

“Didn’t know there’d be a test,” Ghost replies contently, with much of his focus now on the purring cat. “Good to know you’ve got someone looking out for you off the job”

"Aye, really we look out for each other.” Soap beams, using one of his hands to now rub the cat’s belly. “Ricki canny hear a thing. Deaf as all, but fuckin’ loud as all too. Wouldn’t have her any other way”

Ricki takes a gentle swat at Soap's hand, shooting him a look. Ghost retracts his to avoid being included in getting hit.

“Guess the welcome party’s over” Ghost jokes.

Soap sets Ricki back down on the floor. She goes right back to meowing once on the floor, circling Soaps legs.

“I believe somebody’s hungry,” Soap states.

Once he has a briefly clear path, he begins walking toward the kitchen, Ricki weaving in and out between each stride. He opens up a cabinet, and looks back over at Ghost.

“Well come have a sit, Simon. You’re allowed inside more than 5 feet, you know.” Soap hollered.

Truthfully Simon was in a bit of a trance, never much of the social type and perfectly content just watching Johnny and his cat do their thing. Hearing his name definitely snapped him out of it though. He walks over to the large couch in the living room and sits, still watching the other man and the cat in the kitchen.

Johnny takes out a small bag of cat food, but looks down and notices her bowl is still full.

“Oh you cheeky shite!” he laughs, looking at the cat staring at him, bending over to scritch her head. She simply yells back.

“Fine, fine, a treat for my girl,” Johnny happily sighs, putting away the cat food and grabbing a smaller bag. He pours out a few treats into his hand, which prompts her to spring up onto the counter, somehow getting even louder.

Johnny waggles a finger in front of her like a dad. “Ah ah ah! You know the deal.” He then points downward.

Simon’s eyes widened. Upon this gesture, Ricki sits down, still looking up at Johnny and yelling of course. Johnny laughs and hands her a treat, placing the rest down on the counter for her, which she happily eats. He then walks over to the couch to join his guest, who is not at all hiding his surprise at what he just saw.

“You trained a cat.” Simon states in shock.

“Yep.” Johnny responds matter-of-factly, leaning back on the couch and kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

“And I’m the one outta my mind for drinking bourbon?” Simon laughs.

“Yeeep.” Johnny replies in the exact same tone. The two then catch each other's eyes, and exchange laughs. They both settle even deeper into the couch and let out content sighs, Johnny leaning his head back and shutting his eyes with a smile on his face.

#woag is me #call of duty #cod mw2 #soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #can be viewed as platonic/just friends or as shippy #thank you to wyn for encouraging me to actually post this dsnjkfbsf #wrote this a while ago but here be #yes i wanted to make a pun name for the cat #and yes i wanted soap to have a cat #i know im not the most descriptive #but this is just a drabble #(idk if thats actually the right word but eh shush and enjoy some snarky dudes playing with a cat)

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mane--attraction · 6 months

Text

It's that time of year again when haunted houses are in full swing, and despite your best efforts, you are going alone to have some fun getting spooked. Might you get more than you bargained for, however?

Word Count: 5015. Yeah. This one kinda got away from me lol. Fun fact, this is now my longest fic ever. This was also supposed to be done for last year, but I clearly vastly underestimated how long this was going to be.

Mild knifeplay, "kidnapping," gender neutral but afab reader. Murdock x reader. Potentially inaccurate haunted house depiction.

MINORS DNI!

~~~

Dusk dapples the sky while you stand in line, waiting for the local haunted house event to open its doors, rubbing your arms to ward off the beginnings of a chill in the air. Despite living here a while, this is your first time you've built up the nerve to go. It takes up the entire fairgrounds, with multiple houses under one event. You had extended an invitation to Murdock, because you were sure it was right up his alley, but he declined, citing work. He's been away an awful lot this month, despite his best efforts, and you were hoping to spend more time with him out and about instead of just within your four walls and between the sheets. But alas, it seems like it's not to be, and you had reassured him it was alright, even as you tried to mask your disappointment.

You mostly relegate all that to the back of your mind, your excitement more prominent now that you're here. You hesitated to attend in the years prior because some of the houses were interactive, where the actors could grab you. It was one of the selling points you had used to appeal to Murdock, animatedly mimicking it in the air, although you wonder now that you think about it if that was a deal breaker for him; after all, thanks to his…line of work, would he have reacted negatively? The last thing either of you need, especially him, is legal action.

Regardless, you're not sure now why it was such a problem for you that you didn't even try the normal houses; and after all, it's not like the ones where they can touch you have free reign. Although you do have to fill out a liability form, so maybe that's why you over-thought it in the past.

You're at the front of the line before you realize it, handing over your money—extra for the specialty houses—and signing the necessary forms. The woman in the booth puts on your wristband and gives you a map and a spiel that she's already had to recite multiple times, but you are eating up every word, grinning excitedly.

"Welcome to our little town of horrors, where the streets and fields are home to a great many spooky things, where the veil between the supernatural and our world grows thinner by the day. But beware: it's not just the ghost and ghouls that are out to get you… Good luck."

And with that, you're free to start exploring. You wander around for a little bit, gaining your bearings on the area, but it isn’t long before impatience overtakes you and you head towards the first haunted house. The smell of food is enticing, as are the Halloween-themed carnival games, but that all can wait. The best way to tackle this is head-on, even if you're sure these beginning houses are going to be pretty okay. This is, after all, just a local event, even if it does pull in quite the crowd. Plus, you’re starting at the tamest one, with plenty of kids out front, so you’ll be fine.

Let the spookening begin.

Your first house was actually a little underwhelming because of being geared so young, but you worked your way through the other two houses you wanted to try before getting to the “final boss” of the haunted houses tonight. You were sufficiently spooked, both through corridors and a corn maze, but the goal wasn’t “sufficient.” With slightly overpriced pizza sitting in your stomach, you start towards your final destination.

Excitement and nervousness, stronger than before, bubble together the closer you get, the previous scares coming to your mind’s eye, but you force yourself through it rather than chicken out. You didn’t come all this way just to back out. You do wish Murdock was here, though; you’d feel a lot better if he was. Things seem less scary with a man like him by your side. The screams from within startle you from your thoughts. You swear they're louder here.

The attendant checks your wristband to make sure you're allowed in, then waves you along into the corral with the next batch of "victims." You fidget with your hands and glance around at the rest of the event. It's only now you realize how physically isolated this house is from the others.

"First time?"

You turn to see a guy around your age with a group of a few others, probably his friends. You chuckle, your nervousness evident. "Yeah. I went through some of the others already, just this one left."

The guy grins, while the two girls resume some quiet discussion. "It'll be fine. They'll just push you and tug on your clothing a bit, maybe grab your hand, but nothing too bad."

"As if you don't scream every time," one of the girls pipes up from her conversation.

He huffs, only half insulted, and you can't help but giggle in tandem with the girls. "I do not—"

“Do too.” The girl who spoke grins. “I bet you’d scream real loud if we went to one of those newer places where they can drag you off somewhere”

“They actually allow that?” you interject, eyes rounding in surprise.

“Yeah, I heard a couple of the big popular places are adding that as a feature.” The girl pulls her coat around her, the wind kicking at everyone’s legs. “It’ll probably never happen here, though. Not with everything that’s happened recently.”

While it does genuinely take you a moment, you nod and go “ah” as if you aren’t in flagrante delicto with the culprit of crimes a few towns over. A culprit whom you were originally planning on bringing here— Thankfully, you’re almost to the door of the house, so the group’s focus is more on getting in than on you, and nobody seems to notice your smile growing a bit taut.

“Hey, why don’t you stick with us?” The other girl you haven’t spoken with yet bounces on her feet.

“Yeah, it’s more fun as a group,” the guy says. His buddy nods.

“Sure,” you say, the twisty feeling in your stomach loosening. “The more the merrier, right?”

Everyone in the group gives some form of acknowledgement, and then the attendant cuts in with their spiel about the theming—a mansion, run down with time after the owner and his staff’s mysterious disappearances…if that’s really what happened. Rumor has it that something terrible befell everyone inside—and they might think you’re to blame, if you’re not careful. They also bring up reminders about protocol while in the house. You've heard all of it at the other haunted houses here, and not much changes with the addition of physicality; as always, if it gets too overwhelming, there are ways out that all the performers know.

The buddy turns to you once the speech is done. “What’s your name, by the way?”

You introduce yourself, and he repeats your name. “Nice to meet you.” He gives his own name and sounds off everyone else’s. You try and commit it all to memory, even if you’re not sure how well it will stay.

“Nice to meet all of you.”

And with that, you step over the threshold, and the door slams shut behind you. You jump higher than you think is warranted, but the scaredy cat in the group does in fact let out a yelp, which sets everyone off laughing. You collectively take a moment to consider the path in front of you: a narrow corridor, flickering with sickly yellow lighting, the remnants of pumped-in fog curling at the floor.

You’re not entirely certain who steps forward first, but it definitely isn’t you. Despite knowing this is all fake and having already gone through other hallways similar to this one, it still has enough of a thrall to induce a silence that grows more tense the further you all get. The walls are eerily similar to how you would imagine a decrepit mansion to be, wallpaper peeling off in sheets, and you find yourself suspicious of every dark spot in the wall. Even the mirrors in the supposed foyer, cracked and broken, are suspect. The sounds of a creaking house and muffled howling winds are piped in; quiet enough to make you second guess where you are, but loud enough that it almost feels too loud in the enclosed space.

One of the girls lets out a shriek, pulling away suddenly from the wall, and you practically jump out of your skin. She giggles nervously. “It got me!”

Everyone else follows suit, letting out a laugh that normally would release tension. You can only speak for yourself when you think about how it didn’t much help.

“Get out! The master is gone: Get out while you still can!”

The warning, shouted at a frightening pitch, kicks your group forward, everyone pressing together as the hall narrows more, then widens again, a bend ahead of you all. You feel a hand against your sleeve, and you jank it back quickly with a surprised curse. A cold breeze tickles your neck, and it takes all your willpower not to shriek, even though that is perfectly in spirit with a haunted house (pun not intended). “Please tell me someone else felt that cold air?” you squeak.

“Yeah, I did,” says the guy in front of you. You already can’t tell which one he is.

The wood beneath your feet groan as you all continue forward, the sconces flickering with the yellow light your eyes have gotten used to. You shove your hands into your pockets; the closer you keep your limbs, the less likely they are to be grabbed. The door handle beside your group rattles. It’s not fake. You all move a little quicker.

The floorboards creak behind you, and you feel like you turn as if in slow motion to see a man standing in the middle of the hallway in a mask, human-like but definitely not human. Every feature is exaggerated just enough to be unnatural, and in this place, it works a little too well. With his frame, he seems to take up the entire hallway; and if not physically, then with his presence. Your eyes lock onto him, and you stop walking, as if he’s frozen you in place. Everything else disappears: no sound, no sight except for this man. And there’s something about him…

The man lets out a guttural growl, the kind that sends genuine fear into the pit of your stomach. You’re the first to scramble to run the moment he shifts to pursue, pushing through the rest of your group, the spell broken, but everyone else soon follows suit, screams echoing in the tiny corridor. You're not sure where theirs end and yours begins. You whip your head around just long enough to confirm where the man is before you round the corner, and your line of sight is perfect to see him between everyone’s heads, the unsettling lighting warping the mask more. You swear you see a knife in his hand.

Finally, after a few minutes of running, one of the girls must have glanced back, because you hear her call out behind you, "He's gone!" Your feet don't quite get the memo, and you find yourself out ahead of the group as you slow and catch your breath.

“Fuck’s sake,” you mutter to yourself. Why did that scare you so much?

“Are you okay?” one of the guys asks. You nod.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” It’s half a lie, and you laugh nervously. “Just part of the experience, right?”

“Right.”

“We should probably keep moving though. Who knows when the next person’s gonna jump out at us.” Despite not being fully ready, you lead the group forward, trying to figure out what it was this time. It’s probably not that deep, but it feels important to figure out.

However. Something occurs to you.

That mask didn't look like it belonged in this house

Teeth bared in a snarl too wide to be natural, prominent eyebrows casting shadows over the eyes, more creature than human, despite being human-like. Surely it's just a mistake, but all the other houses have been meticulous with what they had to work with, so for a slip-up to happen now seems odd. Although, it could still fit, since it had been said nobody knew what happened to the occupants of the mansion. That doesn't quite explain, however, why his outfit—including an almost knee-length modern coat with pants—wasn't that of a servant, nor the head of the mansion…

“That was a pretty good scare,” says one of the girls behind you.

“Yeah, that felt so visceral,” says the other. "Wild."

“I have the heebie jeebies.” It’s that guy, the scared one.

“You always get the ‘heebie jeebies.’”

He huffs. “Shut up—”

You slow down, falling to the back of the group. You swear you hear something that isn’t just the sound system, but maybe it's just your overactive imagination. After all, anyone would be on high alert after being chased. The guy you haven’t spoken to gives you a look that you almost miss, but you don't explain yourself. No point.

“I thought this was supposed to be more grabby.”

“Maybe we just haven’t gotten that far yet.”

“I know this place is big, but it’s not that big.”

“They probably just want to build up the spookiness,” you interject, even if you’re not fully convinced, yourself.

“Ah, that would make sense.”

You stop in front of another destroyed mirror, pieces scattered on the table under it. Your own face is almost unrecognizable, horridly lit and fractured in the reflection, concern and fear staring back at you.

“YOU WILL PAY FOR WHAT YOU’VE DONE!”

It comes from up ahead, and it snaps you from your trance, but instead of seeing your new acquaintances, you see…nobody. Everyone is gone. Even the voice you heard isn’t visible to you.

You swear you see a bit of the one girl's hair trailing behind her at the bend ahead, but you're much too far away already, and you're not sure they noticed you're not with them yet. It stings a little, even if you know they didn’t mean anything by it, but your nervousness overpowers that, the uncertainty of what lies ahead gnawing at you. You jog forward, just fast enough to hopefully catch up with the rest of the group—

You hear a loud THUMP somewhere behind you, startling you enough to jump. With the way the ground vaguely vibrates, whatever hit the floor must have done so pretty hard. You swallow thickly. “Guys?” you call out. No answer. You jog with more urgency now, your footfalls and heartbeat equal tempo in your ears. More than likely, they didn’t hear you because of ambience, but you fear they’ve gotten too far away in such a short span of time. You pick up speed—

—but there’s another noise behind you, a shuffling, that has you stop again, head whipping around to try and find the source. With the corners so dark, it’s impossible to tell if someone is there or if it was just an animal that found its way in. You stand there for a few seconds longer than you should, staring into the darkness. Something is up, and the lack of anything actually happening is making this so much worse than being physically pushed and pulled in different directions. You’re not a haunted house expert by any means, but this place has been far too quiet. Slowly, you continue to move forward, the faux fog growing thicker with less bodies to disturb it. The floor creaks uncomfortably loud. You don’t remember any mention about multiple pathways, so where the hell is everyone?

There's a tug on your hair, and you barely suppress a yelp, but you suppose it was an accident…although it was rather close to your scalp; how did someone get that close without you realizing after all this time…

Suddenly, there's a hand clamped around your wrist, jolting you, and you'd think it a coincidence if it wasn't for the one wrapping around your mouth, dragging you to someone and into the shadows. You scream, but it's muffled, drowned out by the suddenly overly loud sound system, and your efforts to struggle out of your assailant's grip are futile, holding you tightly against their body as they maneuver you with much more ease than you'd expect. It's honestly kind of scary how little you're affecting them. Their hands are oddly cool against your skin, and then you realize it's not their skin, but some material.

Leather.

A door slams open behind you, and you're dragged into a room. The outside noises are muffled, then dampened once the door shuts again, trapping you in the dim space with whoever has kidnapped you. You're still yelling, trying to stomp on their feet and throw your head back against their chin, but their shoes are too solid and they're too tall to headbutt. Your hands twist around to pinch or scratch, but all you get is fabric.

"Sweet thing," a man's voice growls into your ear, "you better cooperate, or else this will be a lot more difficult for you."

The person's hands shift, and hope surges that you'll get an opening, but before you can get very far in acting through it, you're forced to the ground face down, hips suddenly pressed up against you, and you freeze. He's rock hard.

"Or you can struggle all you like. Doesn't much matter to me." Somehow, you can tell there's a grin to his voice. "It just encourages me to try harder."

It takes you a moment too long to try and buck him off, gnashing your teeth. "Get off of me! You'll be sorry!"

You feel the man throb, and he laughs lowly. "Sorry how, sweetheart? A pretty thing like you, at my mercy…"

The chill of metal against your skin startles you into freezing again, and something about it seems…familiar. The cogs take a moment to turn, but then they click into place. You know that voice. "Murdock?"

He's quiet for a moment, then chuckles. "Well, well. Smart cookie. Not that I expected anything less from my kitten.”

Considering the shock of it all prevented you from thinking straight, he's lucky you didn't panic more. "Wh— What are you doing here? I had thought—"

"I couldn't resist the opportunity." Murdock tosses something to the ground—a mask he was apparently wearing. "And work…ended much sooner than I thought."

The lighting is terrible, but your eyes focus on the mask, which stares back at you with a bared grin, more bestial than you realized, and a memory flashes: Being pursued down the hall, sickly yellow light flashing across its exaggerated features— "But how—"

He shushes you, hands trailing across your neck to expose it to him. "I have my ways, sweetling. Not everyone is as careful as they could be." He starts pressing startlingly soft kisses to your neck, although it isn't long before they become more insistent, and you bite your lip and shiver. "Yourself included."

His dangerous tone sets off a nervousness in the pit of your stomach: it’s the type of tone he uses when you’ve been misbehaving. “L-listen, Murdock, I carry that pepper spray with me, you know I’ll be okay—”

“Do I? After all, look at how easily I stole you away…”

Shit. He’s not wrong. "You—you’re just abnormally strong.” You swear you hear a light chuckle, but you ignore it and squirm in one more attempt to get free. “The others, they're— they're waiting for me—"

"Are they?" He can't hide the hint of possessiveness that creeps into his voice, and one of his hands presses into your back to stop you. "They can wait, sweetheart. We haven't had our fun yet."

The sharp tip of something presses against your center, and you yip, jolting forward. “Don’t you dare! I’m not about to replace these—”

“Alright, I won’t. Help me get you out of them, then."

His hands push their way under your coat to find the band of your jeans, and a half second after he starts, your brain jumpstarts again and you scramble to assist him, finding the waistband before he does and pushing it down your body. Murdock takes over when it rounds your ass, shoving the material to your knees with impatience. You try and kick them off, although it is very difficult in this position; he helps a little bit, but once you’ve gotten it off one leg, he grips your thighs, forcing you to stay still. Slowly, the cold metal of the flat of his blade trails over your skin: along your thigh, pressing against the underside of your ass, across and down to the other thigh…then it’s pressing against your core again, and with nothing but your underwear left to protect you, you can’t help but whimper.

“These are easily replaceable, though. Aren’t they, kitten?”

His knife pushes a little firmer against you, and your breathing shudders. It takes everything within you not to press back. “...Yes, sir.”

His grin is as clear as day in his voice this time. “Perfect.”

It’s the only warning you get before a gloved finger hooks between your skin and the cotton, pulling it away just enough to allow the knife to slip through and slice. Your underwear offers no resistance, cut through like butter and exposing you in an instant. The cold only chills you for a moment, his groin back against yours and grinding roughly, and all you can do is fail to hold back your moan. He only does this for a few seconds before pulling back. His jingling belt gives away his intentions, and your blood pumps faster in anticipation.

“Do you think you’re ready? Hm?” There’s a soft sound and fabric going flump, and his bare hand is on your clit, rubbing intensely. You gasp wildly, nodding without actually knowing if you are or not. Murdock’s fingers dip into you, checking for himself. You don’t resist lifting your hips towards them, trying to guide them further in with a desperate whine. He just teases you, sliding back and forth and occasionally thumbing your sensitive nub.

“Please,” you whisper without thinking.

“What’s that?” Fuck, he sounds so smug, and you’d love to snap back at him for it, but him slowing to a snail’s pace is too distracting. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Please, Murdock!”

His fingers leave you, and you pout and whine quietly. However, his zipper popping open has you changing your tune. “One more try.”

There’s little hesitation from you. “Pleasefuckme!”

“Mm.” His head slides through your folds, and you gasp again. This time, his gloved hand stills you before you can move. “Music to my ears.”

That’s all the warning you get before he slowly slides into you, gripping your hips. You squeak, lashes fluttering as your breaths come out in puffs, adjusting to how almost easily he stretches you. He rubs at you a little more, and he sinks in the rest of the way. A low moan is his reward, followed by one of his own. Murdock hardly moves at first, simply grinding within you and rocking his hips in shallow movements. Then, suddenly, he draws back all the way and snaps his hips against yours, and you yelp in surprise. You aren’t given much of a reprieve before he does it again. And again. And again. And each time, you let out a shout, although you try to muffle yourself, thinking you hear footsteps in the hall. At any moment, someone from the staff could come in here. Does he know this?

Better question is, does he care? You’re not sure if you want to admit that it kind of turns you on.

Murdock starts a steady pace, not so intense as before but just as overwhelming. You’re panting already, struggling to keep quiet. He notices and chuckles. "Go ahead and scream." His command is uncannily punctuated by muffled screams from within the haunted house proper. "Do you really think they can hear you over everyone else’s, let alone the sounds from the haunted house itself?" His breath is hot by your ear. "Nobody's going to investigate, sweet thing. I have you all to myself, now."

That shouldn’t excite you as much as it does, holding back a whimper, yet you can’t hold back the way you tighten around him. He slows, as if making sure of something, then growls. “Oh, naughty thing. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You clamp your mouth shut, hoping that if you don’t answer, he’ll leave it alone. But alas, your body betrays you once more, and Murdock stops, a certain something sharp that you forgot about dragging against your neck just enough for you to be aware of it, your breath catching. “Answer me, kitten.”

“Yes, sir.” The reply rushes from your lips with more neediness than you thought it would have.

“First you let your ‘kidnapper’ fuck you, now this?” he teases, clicking his tongue with mock disappointment. “Seems I need to learn more about my kitten.”

Your face flushes intensely. It’s no different than when he’s chased you out in the woods, and he knows this. He just can’t help himself…but also he’s more than willing to play into the role of pursuer. This you know well.

“Maybe I should be making you beg more for me to fuck you.” His gloved hand trails along your thigh. “But I’m much too impatient for that.”

His grip grows tight enough to bruise, his thrusts growing intense to match, and you let out a sound unlike any you’ve made thus far, wild and raw and overwhelmed with pleasure. Murdock laughs, triumphant and deep like his thrusts, and more than tinged with lust. It almost seems to settle into your bones.

“God. What a rush you give me.”

His pace is technically slower now, but that doesn’t matter with the way your eyes roll with every impact. You feel him lean over, but don’t know what’s happening until his lips reach your neck, kissing and sucking the skin he can find. Your moan is so whorish that it would embarrass you under different circumstances. His lips curl against your neck, although you barely comprehend that’s what’s happening. You try and reach your hand to your clit, but he beats you to it, only to rub so harshly that you practically sob out a cry. “FUCK!”

“If you insist,” he says, his strained voice giving away how much you’re affecting him. That hand travels back up to hold your hip in a vice grip. He lets out that same guttural growl from earlier, this time low and long, and with it directly in your ear, you nearly lose your mind, fluttering madly around him. You're so close—

"There it is. There we are." Murdock growls again, shorter but nowhere less effective. "Do it. Cum. Scream for me."

Despite being so tightly wound, you’re almost not sure if you can obey…until he groans and slams once more into you—and with a shriek, you are undone, clenching wildly around him and thighs trembling with an orgasm more intense than you expected. Murdock grunts in surprise, trying to continue fucking you through it. Your mind fractures with every attempted stroke, whimpering and babbling curses.

“Oh fuck—”

Murdock grunts once, twice, then he’s spilling inside you, cock pulsing harshly, the heat of him and his skin flush against yours driving you mad. He gasps and huffs and puffs, hand blinding finding you and rubbing again just enough to feel you clench around him harder. You keen loudly, practically a shriek in and of itself, legs threatening to give out as your body is kept on that intense plateau.

Eventually, the rush of cum slows, as does his throbbing inside you, and your own body is, mercifully, allowed to relax, still fluttering but not actively climaxing. The both of you pant heavily, catching your breaths as the two of you recover. His hands slide over your body, the strange dichotomy of skin and leather over and under your clothes. Murdock slips from you, and you’re too tired yet to be disappointed by it. He guides you in rolling you onto your back, and you don’t resist, grateful to give your legs a break from supporting you.

You blink almost blearily at where he ought to be, your eyes needing to adjust again to the lighting. You find your legs spread wide, almost folded in half, and his cockhead against your entrance once more. He doesn’t do anything at first, probably just taking you in. It’s a welcome, true reprieve. His bare hand brushes against your cheek, and you lean into it on instinct.

While maybe the break ought to last longer, Murdock is true to his word and impatient to have you. As he slides into you again with an unabashed moan that’s matched with your own, it strikes you as always that he’s already—still?—half hard again. If there’s one guarantee about Murdock among the other guarantees, it’s that he doesn’t stay soft for long.

Now, you can see him, face closer to yours. Even in the dimness, there's no mistaking that hunter's glint in his eyes. "Hello, sweetheart," he says, a wicked grin on his lips. "Miss me?"

He's devouring your mouth before you can respond, head spinning while he takes over your senses. His thrust scrambles what few thoughts you had left, eyes rolling into your head with a loud moan swallowed by him. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and he groans into your mouth. Your mind tumbles again.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Murdock pants against your lips, watching your unfocused expression as he resumes pounding into you. All you can manage is a long whine. “How much more, hm? How much more can you take while I show you just how much I missed you?”

You don’t know. You can’t even think enough to be able to consider how much more.

But you’re certainly about to find out.

#lemon #x reader #Murdock x reader #minors dni #gender neutral reader #afab reader #gn reader #cw knife #a year in the making folks #happy halloween~~#murderplier x reader

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tac0tesseract · 2 months

Text

Time Split

((Edit: Tumblr keeps eating the time-split formatting so I'm putting it in as an image instead fhejrkfhjkehjk ))

“Try it on me.”

“I will not.”

“But I have to understand.” Emma grinned, holding her arms out to the side as if needing to make herself a larger target somehow mattered here. “I can't get better at this if I can't think the way that you do.”

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You know that's not how it works.”

“I knooooowwww, but I can at least do my best to get as close as possible. That's why we're such a good team! I do the 3D-thinking, you do the 4D, and by our powers combined…”

The smile grew. “We're invincible.”

“Yes!”

Sam sighed, though the smile remained, and he paced a little upon his projection pad. She got the sense he'd be pacing the room if he could; that he'd love nothing more than to move around so freely. It was an existence he did his best not to think about – genuinely desiring the orderly reprieve his chains brought him, while fiercely lamenting their limits. Emma wanted to do more research on how to extend his reach, but she knew that particular search history would not go unnoticed – or appreciated – on their network. Queen was giving her enough grief over Sam as it was.

“Very well,” Sam said at last. “But if I sense even a mote of discomfort, I'm returning you to normal.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Of course it's going to be uncomfortable. I'm a monkey! You've gotta give me time to get used to it.”

That seemed to amuse him. The flowing nebula of his hair rippled in what she'd come to know was his silent laughter. Without further ceremony, Sam extended a hand to her with his fingers pinched together. And when he opened them

It was in that instant that her own startled will kicked in, and Emma somehow snapped herself back into one piece. She sat on the floor like she'd just fallen down the stairs and stared up at him moon-eyed. His arms were still extended as if he'd meant to catch her. Sam slowly straightened. His hair went wild.

“Well that's new.”

“Have you ever used it on a person before?”

“You know how I'm going to answer that.”

Right. Never ask 'have you ever' of a Didymos.

~*~

It was a strange memory to recall in this moment, but Emma couldn't help it – not as she watched the truck-bomb split with that same telltale static that had once enveloped her. She hadn't asked Sam to do it; he'd simply deemed it necessary, knowing full well the weight of the payload it carried and how many lives depended on it. She braced for the question as to why there were two trucks now. Feren was the only other person here who wasn't spooked by NHPs; probably better to blame the time-split on the Lich and call it a day.

That sent her mind sliding elsewhere, to their earlier conversation – to the idea that she had apparently sent herself a warning from a reality where Sam wasn't there. Emma supposed that there was a timeline where Boss hadn't acquired a Didymos, either because he couldn't or didn't want to, but – surely that was a reality where either Sai got the Lich like he was supposed to, or Emma was too batshit to send herself a warning in the first place. No...the only thing that made sense was that she had somehow lost Sam in that failed timeline. And that thought...that thought made her ill.

Can't trust her...

Was the warning about Sam's killer?

“Argh. Focus...” she muttered at herself, drawing a concerned side-glance from his projection.

“Emma?”

“I'm fine. Careful with the time stuff, though. These guys aren't like our home crew, they're...kinda jumpy about it.”

“I'm not worried.”

She chuckled. “Clearly.”

He turned to her screens, as if he had the physical need to look at them. “Got the virus loaded? I'll help you deliver it. Not expecting much, but I'd still like to see whoever's in there try to keep pace with me.”

“Ooooh, I do like when you get like that, though.” Emma was suddenly glad her helmet was on, so he couldn't see how red she was.

It was a welcome distraction, though.

Over six hundred and thirty people were relying on them.

Once this started, it would be utter pandemonium.

She couldn't afford to think too much right now.

#lancer rpg #lancer ttrpg #lancerrpg #horus lich #didymos #nhp #emma tansy #sam #my writing #just a random-ass drabble as I sit here fucking perishing from suspense #we're about to run a heist on a ssc facility to try and rescue all the hostages in there and #ahahahaha #there's no way this doesn't go sideways

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lovebillyhargrove · 9 months

Text

Wake me up when July is around

Harringrove slow burn. S1 Steve x Billy

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 feat. Tommy

*** Steve's pov

"Tell me once again what you saw in the photo lab, Nicole."

Steve can't fucking believe it. That weird Byers kid, he doesn't even know his first name, John or .. Nathan? Doesn't matter. Developing pictures of him, his girlfriend and his best friends partying in Steve's backyard?

Holy hell, they must be.. can they be from that unfortunate night in June when Steve finally got lucky with Nancy but then this whole terrible thing happened, and Barb went missing, and cops came to talk to him and his parents, questioned Tommy and Carol, Nancy too? It ruined his whole summer. His relationship with Nancy lost that sweet something that Steve's still trying to chase.

He is certain they never had any more parties like that, not at Steve's place, at least, not the five .. four of them, so it must definitely be from that night.

Steve's heart is racing. He tells Tommy to meet him after classes in the parking lot, before the game because they've got some business to deal with. Byers never visits the games, so he'll just be going home or wherever he's gonna go after school. He'll catch the freak there, have a couple of words with him. Maybe tell him it's wrong to spy on people, take their fucking pictures without them even knowing about it?? Maybe he's been doing it all fucking summer, not just that one time?

Okay, there's been this crazy story about his little brother who went missing last spring for .. several weeks. They found him in the end. What was it, June? Or July? Just right after Barb disappeared?

Fuck.

Anyways that fucked up story didn't give him any right to be taking pictures of them in the middle of the night. They were fucking naked in his bedroom, what kind of sick shit is that?

After the last class is finished Steve and Tommy go to the beamer with Carol and Nicole, as the main witness. Steve sees Byers walking towards his old rusty ford galaxie, head down, as usual and not looking at anyone. A true creep's behavior.

"Hey, man."

Byers stops in his tracks, a spooked expression on his face. Steve gets off the beamer and comes closer to him.

"Nicole here was, uh .. telling us about your work."

The guy clearly doesn't understand what Steve's talking about. Time to explain.

"And we'd just love to take a look. You know .. as connoisseurs of art."

Steve rips the backpack out of the weirdo's hands. Byers looks sick. Tommy and the girls are circling around like vultures.

"Man, he's totally trembling. He must really have something to hide."

Harrington opens the backpack, and holy fuck, Nicole wasn't lying. There are pictures of .. all of them in his backyard that night. Byers isn't even trying to snatch those from Steve's hands. He's caught red-handed and knows it.

"Here we go."

The picture of Harrington's room window, with his and Nancy's silhouettes?? Tommy's going through the photos muttering "Fucking shit" under his breath

"Yeah this isn't creepy at all."

Wait, this is Nancy's naked back, what the fuck.

"No, this is called stalking. Mmm-hmm."

Byers is just standing there, like a loser that he is, not saying a word.

Suddenly there's an interruption.

"What's going on?" Nancy is walking towards them, looking concerned. Carol pipes in

"And here's the starring lady." Steve bets Carol is enjoying the whole scene immensely

"The creep was spying on us last June. And we only find out about it now."

"Yeah, he was probably gonna save this one for later." Carol sing-songs pointing at the nude picture. Nancy is still looking at Steve with raised eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.

Steve's feeling disgusted. There's a nasty itch in his hands, the one you get when you want to squish a cockroach

He's also slightly surprised, and not in a pleasant way, with the fact that Nance didn't immediately take their side.

"Man, that's the thing about perverts. You know they just can't help themselves."

Oh, he knows what he has to do.

"We'll just have to take away his toy."

Steve takes Byers' camera from the backpack, and the freak lunges forward cause he knows what's gonna happen. Tommy stands between the two of them

"No no, wait, wait ... Tommy, Tommy."

Steve holds the camera in his outstretched hand and drops it, theatrically. There's a sound of a shattered lense. Carol and Nicole let out a gasp. Nancy covers her mouth with her tiny hand.

Let the pervert learn his lesson.

Byers still hasn't said anything, like at all. He drops to his knees, looking at the broken camera as if he's trying really hard not to burst out sobbing.

"Come on, let's go. The game is about to start." Harrington motions for the gang to follow him, which they do. The show is finished.

Wait, where's his girlfriend?

Steve turns around to see her kneeling beside Byers picking up the torn pieces of the photos. What the fuck?

"Hey, Nance!" Steve raises his voice in irritation. She gets up reluctantly and goes after her boyfriend, leaving the weirdo weeping over the loss of his possession.

The wind comes, swishing the remaining photo shreds away.

Seriously, what the hell.

***

Steve knows he has to focus on the game. It's Hawkins Tigers vs Greenwood Eagles. It's nothing big, just a friendly match, their school always holds a game at the beginning of each year inviting a team from nearby towns, just to mark the opening of a new season. The whole school is here, and Steve has to fucking concentrate.

He can't.

That freak Byers with his camera, fucking stalking them?? Maybe the police should take a closer look at him. He was the last one to see that girl, Barb. Steve didn't even know her so well, she was Nancy's friend. Should he go to the police? Or should he just drop it? This whole thing is so unsettling, but you know what bugs him the most? The way Nancy stayed behind, picking up those photo shreds, looking like she's on the freak's side. Was she not bothered by the whole thing?

Steve could see that Nancy changed after the mysterious disappearance of her friend in his backyard. He isn't blind, and yeah, that shit's heavy but he also can't understand where his fault is in all of that and what he can do to make everything better. And yeah, he would really like to enjoy his senior year at school, is that a crime? He wants to get wild at parties and .. and do something stupid cause that's officially his last chance to be just a teenager. And he wants that. He's used to getting what he wants. He wanted a new toy? Mommy got him one. He wanted to kiss Laurie? He did, and got his first girlfriend. He then saw Amy and fell in love again? Laurie cried for weeks. It was time for the Harrington heir to get his own car? Dad bought a brand new BMW 733i which drove all the guys insane with jealousy. Amy told him he broke her heart when he started going out with Katie. Katie doesn't talk to him any more when he dumped her and went after the smart girl, Nancy Wheeler. That one required effort, but here they are. Together.

Nancy never does anything stupid.

There she is, sitting in the stands, looking all preoccupied and shit. She's not even interested whether they are gonna win or lose

Things used to be so good last spring. The thrill of the chase, of getting the girl no-one even believed would pay attention to him? One of the smartest students at Hawkins High and the king of parties, in love?

Honestly, the game is the last thing Steve's thinking about right now, too. He's playing outrageously bad, and this moron Hargrove, of course, is pleased as punch. Fucking asshole.

Nancy leaves the match early, and Steve feels like it's all his fault, everything, just fucking all of it.

A hard shove to the shoulder brings him back to the court. Sorta.

"Why the fuck do they even call you king, huh?"

*** Billy's pov

Why even bother inviting another team for a fucking "friendly match" if you aren't able to fucking score? Billy should sign off the basketball team, it's a fucking waste of his time.

This whole gathering of losers moves around the court like a bunch of sleepy snails. Guess who the worst of them all is? The captain, Steve fucking Harrington. How was he even appointed captain is beyond understanding. Did he just suck the coach off at some point, and was that his most outstanding achievement, and that's why he was given the title?

Billy is disappointed to the point of bursting out with hysterical laughter. More than half of all scored points are his. He moves around the court like a flash of lightning. The guys from the Eagles stare at Hargrove with open mouths, clearly not having expected to come across him in the lamest town of all. The stands are going crazy, sensing the victory "Come on, Tigers!"

Billy misses his team back at home so much. He wants to fucking cry. He wants a challenge, he needs some adrenaline. Playing basketball has always been a pleasure for him, but now it's a fucking heartbreak.

Harrington is the worst.

Billy can see that Steve's mind is elsewhere. Like he's trying to pretend to get focused on the game, but he's failing spectacularly. Maybe it all has to do with the scene Billy witnessed in the parking lot today while he was having a smoke before the match. That was some kind of fucked up school drama, right there. Harrington broke some guy's photo camera. Shit must've been expensive, and the guy didn't look like he could easily afford to buy a new one. Billy's gut tells him it's about that girl. Uh-oh.

He doesn't give a fuck if Harrington has girlfriend problems. If you're playing you need to leave everything you've got on the court, and fuck the rest of the world, especially your ninny quarrels.

Billy has a strange feeling like .. there's something hidden in that pouty asshole. Something deep like embers of fire, like he could actually be interesting.

Let me piss him off, properly, right the fuck now.

He sees Andy passing the ball to Harrington, and in a second the ball's already in Billy's hands. It's like taking candy from a child.

Hargrove sends the ball right into the basket, and the crowd cheers.

Captain Loser is standing there like a complete idiot.

Billy gets close to Harrington's sweaty face and whispers

"Why the fuck do they even call you king, huh?"

Steve's hissing

"Leave me the fuck alone, asshole."

"I would but we're sadly on the same team here, dumbass. Your game is pathetic."

He'd gladly push him, bring the piece of shit down, but unfortunately he can't do it to his own teammate.

Hargrove prefers it when Harrington's on the other team. At least then he can get on the guy's nerves as much as he wants to.

After the game Coach Nelson congratulates the Tigers on the victory. He kinda looks proud. Of fucking what?? Everyone is off to the showers but the coach tells Harrington to stay behind and Billy overhears him say:" Pick up your game, Harrington, will ya? Recruiters be coming, what kind of captaincy is this?"

Let the bitch get what he deserves.

Billy has won, again. He has carried the whole game, from the beginning to end, on his back.

It's only the third week of the school year, and Billy's patience is wearing thin. He's gonna go off the tracks and straight into the asylum, soon. How is he supposed to stay sane here till fucking June?

In the showers Billy makes the water colder than usual. Just to cool himself off. Yeah, he still needs to survive till June here somehow. July even, depending on how much money he'll be able to save up. One day at a time. One fucking day at a time.

Guys from the team are fucking happy the Tigers have actually won the game. In the last hundred years, probably. They are all idiots. They should hate Billy for being the absolute best, but their minds are clouded with the excitement of victory.

Freckles is again getting into his space even in the shower, for fucks sake.

"Hey, man? Great game! Wanna go drink a couple of beers with us? We're celebrating!"

Fuck, Billy almost forgot. He really needs to hurry cause Max is gonna be out after her shitty club or something. The little rat can tell her mommy that Billy was late to pick her up and if Neil gets a whiff?? Guess who's gonna get lectured on the importance of being a good brother? Sometimes after listening to his dad Billy just wants to run into a wall, head on, so that his skull gets broken and all the bullshit that Neil's been telling him, spills out, leaving his head blissfully empty.

"Can't. Gotta drive my stepsister home. The little leprechaun is probably already waiting near the car."

There's a disappointed look on Hagan's face, which even seems sincere.

"Another time, yeah?"

"Sure."

He turns off the water and walks away, bumping into Harrington on his way out. The coach must've had a long talk with him. Their bare shoulders touch unexpectedly and there's a jolt of hot hatred running down Billy's spine. He doesn't have time for that now though.

"Look where you're going, asshole."

Harrington just glares at him silently, a flame of fire in those deep brown eyes appearing for a second, and goes to wash the shame of this game off.

***

On Friday Tommy, who's sitting behind him in Spanish, whispers "Hey Hargrove.."

"What?"

"Got a minute after school? Need to talk to you about something."

"Like what?"

"Just meet me under the bleachers, man."

"Mr. Hagan and Mr. Hargrove, please stop talking in class?"

"Lo siento, señorita Delgado, pero ya hemos terminado nuestras tareas y ahora estamos practicando el habla. Le estaba diciendo a mi amigo que me encantaría escuchar su propuesta de lecciones conjuntas adicionales de español."

(I am sorry, Miss Delgado, we have already finished our assignment, and we're practising speaking. I was just telling my friend here that I'd be happy to have extra lessons of Spanish with him.)

The teacher looks at Hargrove with an astonished expression, trying to hide a smile

"Bien. Trata de no molestar a los demás."

(Alright. Try not to disturb others.)

Tommy is whispering in Billy's ear again

"Dude .. what the fuck did you say to her?"

"I told her I'd like to make love to her tonight and she told my to come by her place at nine."

Hagan is snickering but shuts up quickly when the teacher's is throwing him a strict glance.

Hargrove goes to the bleachers after classes. What does Freckles have to say to him?

Turns out, Tommy's got a plan for a prank.

Apparently, the school's gonna be without security this weekend. Old Mr. Wiggins is going to be out of town due to a family emergency, and the second guard, Mr. Crawley was just taken to hospital, and Tommy has overheard a super confidential conversation between the principal and Mr. Clark, that the principal can't find anyone to fill in for the weekend on such short notice, and school grounds will be defenseless during the whole of Saturday and Sunday.

"We cannot pass up such an opportunity. It never happens, it'll never happen. Let's do it. It's a perfect time to strike."

Hargrove wants to ask Tommy why the hell he's asking him of all people but, judging by the look on Tommy's face, he's probably in love with Billy, so he doesn't ask anything.

The "strike" means taking a fucking tractor from a shed that Tommy's father owns to drive it to the school football field and plow something scandalous on it for the whole school to see on Monday.

"Noone plays football in this school anyways. The guys won't care, principal Foster won't care. Well, not too much. The main thing, we don't run into fucking cops. But the shed is just a five-minute drive from school grounds, and there's a dirt road, leading to the gate in the back. We won't even be driving on the road across town."

Billy kinda wants to say no since the whole "I don't give a fuck about this place" thing, but he's also only seventeen, and desperate for some kind of an outlet of his pent up energy. He's been diligently doing homework and writing application letters to universities for the past month. He needs to do something different.

He's probably crazy and this is an unwise thing to do. What if something goes wrong, and the whole prank ends with him getting expelled from school?

Billy loves the idea. He can see it, so clearly in his head, the nightmare that's gonna follow? Neil's rage? Dad's definitely gonna kill him. Skin him alive.

The most important thing is to have enough time to jump in the car and drive the hell away. Then, everything can just explode and never come back to normal.

Maybe that's what he needs. The explosion, and he'll come out of the fire, cleansed of all the burdens and free.

Billy knows this about himself. He's generally a very rational person. But sometimes something gives.

"Okay."

"Really? Oohh it's gonna be epic, dude! Harrington's gonna come, too. I hope you two will .."

Tommy is clearing his throat.

"What do you mean?" Billy doesn't want it to sound menacing, yet it still does.

"Nothing. I mean .. I don't know, you always seem to be at each other's throats like .. ready to fight like two bitches."

Tommy is afraid he's said too much too harsh.

Billy is chuckling

"Yeah .. maybe."

He's in good mood today, letting a conversation like this happen.

Billy looks at the watch and Max should still be at the AV club she's been going to. He's got plenty of time to kill. So he asks Hagan for more details. He wonders if Harrington is on board with him taking part in it, but Tommy must've built the necessary bridges.

They agree to meet at midnight on Saturday near the shed Tommy has mentioned. He explains how to get there from Cherry Lane.

***

On Saturday evening Billy parks down the street cause he doesn't want Neil to hear how he's sneaking off in the middle of the night.

At 11.45 he quietly climbs out of his window, gets in the car trying to make as less noises as possible, and drives to their agreed meeting spot. He sees Tommy's car parked nearby.

The night is dark and quiet, and there are myriads of stars in the black skies above them. The thin crescent moon is hanging high, white and sparkly. Billy takes a deep breath of the fresh and chilly night air. There are black voids of sinister woods all around him.

Tommy's already waiting.

"Hey, man."

"Hey. Where's King Steve? He coming?"

"Nah. The dude wanted to but bailed last minute."

Billy's what? A bit disappointed?

Give me a fucking break.

"Miss Wheeler is staying overnight at his place so.. he's probably getting his dick wet right this second."

Tommy is smiling gleefully but

There's an unpleasant pang of .. something in Billy's heart.

He doesn't understand why, but the thought of it makes him uncomfortable. Just for a second like.. He doesn't want to hear this information.

Anyway, why the fuck does he care.

"Okay, are we doing it or what?"

"Damn right we are."

Tommy unlocks the shed door, and holy shit, the tractor's huge.

"Do you know how to drive that thing?"

"Of course, since childhood. My dad sells farm machinery, so he's been teaching me how to drive all kinds of stuff."

They walk inside the shed and climb into the tractor's cabin.

"You have the key?"

Tommy fishes it out of his pocket and looks at Hargrove expectantly.

Billy, in his turn, takes out a couple of joints he's made at home. Tommy leaves the key in the ignition, his smile wide and merry.

"Ohhh man, hell yeah! Is that from California?" He smacks Billy's shoulder

"Yeah." Hargrove clicks the lighter.

"One now, one later?"

"Fucking yes, man."

Billy's putting his butt on the huge dashboard while Tommy's climbing in the seat. Billy doesn't know how to drive a fucking tractor, so Hagan is the designated one here.

He takes a long drag of the joint, letting the hot heavy smoke roll on his tongue, like viscous glue, before inhaling it.

Californian weed, immediately bringing memories.

He misses home.

Tommy takes the joint from his fingers, but starts coughing after the first drag

"That shit's strong. Fuuck."

"Yeah. Go easy."

Hagan's second drag is a success. They sit for some minutes in silence, just passing the joint to each other.

A question slips off Hargrove's tongue, although he doesn't even know why he's asking it

"What's Harrington's deal?"

"He's alright."

Tommy inhales the smoke again

"We've been best friends since primary school. Like .. always hanging out and stuff. But then he decides to go after that Wheeler princess, and .. fuck knows what.. I mean we're still friends and shit, and I've got his back but .. he's not the same since he got together with Wheeler. Carol hates her guts."

Billy can swear, Tommy's voice got sadder, but like .. there's an undertone to it. The hell .. ? Freckles has a crush on his pretty best friend? Hagan grunts, moving in the seat to make himself more comfortable

"I'm telling ya, this prissy bitch is gonna be the death of King Steve."

Billy isn't sure why, maybe it's the weed, maybe he just really missed having at least some sort of fun, but he kinda likes this. Smoke floating inside the cabin, the darkness and the wild exhilaration of a teenager who's about to do something really stupid and meaningless and potentially definitely dangerous.

"How do you play basketball so well?"

"Man, come to San Diego and give me a couple of months with you on the street courts. You'll score every goddamn time."

Tommy nods in understanding and Hargrove's putting out the stub.

Hagan rubs his hands excitedly and grins at Billy.

"You ready for some Indiana fun, Hargrove?"

Billy gets his ass off the dashboard and stands near the seat. His eyelids are a bit heavy but he wipes his hand on his face

"Start the fucking thing."

The sound of the engine pierces the silence and out of the shed and onto the road they go.

Holy shit, that's an enormous fucking tractor Tommy's driving.

Billy has no fucking clue how to drive a tractor.

"Watch the cars!"

Tommy's laughing

"Relax, dude. I know what I'm doing. Let's go baby!"

It's really just a five-minute drive through the dark field. The tractor is loud and shaking, or maybe it's the weed pulling tricks on him already.

"Hey, Hagan, lemme, lemme .."

Billy's pushing Tommy off the seat and grabbing the steering wheel cause he wants to drive the fucking monster too. Shouldn't be so hard.

"Okay, just .. fucking drive yeah?" Tommy is shouting cause it's LOUD.

"Sure thing!" Billy's shouting back, both of them high as kites.

The whole town is asleep.

School's not that far away.

They smash the lock on the gate to the football pitch with a crowbar.

Drive into the fucking field.

Billy is fucked if Neil finds out.

"What the fuck are we gonna write?" Tommy's still shouting cause the engine's running

"Dunno! A dick?"

"What the fuck, are you a plough artist or something? You can't draw a dick with a fucking plough. It's complicated!"

Billy's shrugging his shoulders

"I'd just write ASS!"

"Yeah! Foster is gonna be mad though!"

"Who's Foster??"

"The principal! There's a fine line!"

"What?"

"There's a fine line!!"

They both think for a second. Tommy yells

"Let's draw a crown!"

"A what??"

"Yeah yeah yeah let's do it man! A tribute to king Steve? A crown??"

"I don't care!! Won't they trace it back to Harrington?"

"Even if they bother, he's fine! He's got an alibi!"

Tommy's sticking his tongue out and imitating french kissing

"Dude, stop! It looks disgusting!"

So it's a crown.

Tommy shows him the stick to bring the plough down. He's holding his hands on the steering wheel, just in case Hargrove loses control.

"Let's go, fucker!"

They make a line at the bottom of the field, and uuuuup! A little bit down .. uuup. A little bit down .. uuup! One more time, aaaand dowwwn.

Job done. Easy-peasy.

"Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

***

When they get the tractor back safe and sound and smoke the second joint sitting on some straw on the shed floor they mostly giggle dumbly. However, at some point Billy asks Tommy about the jobs here, and Hagan tells him about the huge super-duper construction. Starcourt, he thinks. His uncle Joe knows the contractor. Small town. Tommy promises to find out if they offer jobs. He's not sure though cause they have like professional crews working there and stuff, but it doesn't hurt to ask. His uncle asked earlier in the summer if Tommy was interested. Tommy said no cause last year of school. He's applying to a couple of colleges but most likely there's no college for him, he'll just end up working for his dad probably. Which isn't so bad.

***

On Monday morning the school is fucking buzzing.

The crown looks a bit crooked.

Like king, like crown.

Principal gathers all of seniors in the assembly hall during lunch break and calls for discipline.

"A bit too early for a senior prank? We understand Hawkins school is the best, hence the crown, but. Do not make me cancel prom."

Everyone falls silent.

Billy doesn't care about prom.

He and Tommy look as innocent as ever.

Harrington? Billy can bet a hundred bucks, Harrington looks jealous. Like he missed all the fun.

They get under the bleachers later, all three of them and Carol. Tommy does most of the laughing and talking. No-one's gonna know, just keep your mouths shut, boys. We did good. The principal is also an idiot, like Hawkins school is the best, haha.

Harrington is mostly silent, just like Billy is.

When Billy lays in his bed that night and lets the memories of his prior life bring him to sleep, he thinks that

He didn't hate Saturday night.

He's definitely not going soft on this town, but he didn't hate the night.

Tommy's okay.

Harrington is a pathetic pussy-whipped loser.

Billy would never.

***

Thank you @dragonflylady77 ❤️, as always)

Chapter 4

#harringrove #harringrove fic #billy x steve #mean steve vs mean billy #harringrove slow burn

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siriannatan · 1 year

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“Hey hey it’s okay. It was just a nightmare. I’ve got you now- your dreams can’t hurt you” - WelsJev

As with the whole series, the prompt was found over on deity-prompts

This one was inspired by THIS comic by @krummskorner

AO3

Dragons and knights. Natural enemies some would say. And then there was Wels. Somewhere in between the two. A kid from nowhere, with no family, who somehow became a knight. And then had to run away when the wings and horns and all the dragon bits appeared out of nowhere. He kept running and running. Confused. Scared. He run and hid from everyone - humans and monsters alike - until he met Jevin. A slime who was so fascinated he would not let him go.

So Wels stayed. Buried what remained of his armour, dragon scales made it almost completely useless. Getting used to being part dragon was a bit harder than that. At least the neighbouring, less eager-to-talk monsters mostly left them alone after a round of Wels growling at them. Jev called his crowing cute multiple times a day after the first, involuntary round of said growling in an attempt to stop him from sulking.

He was slowly getting used to his new reality.

But no matter how well Wels seemed to do as a 'monster' he would never let go of that word. His own dumb brain would not let him.

Jevin was not lonely. Not in the slightest but... He was still gland when Wels stumbled upon his home. And even happier when the half-dragon decided to stay. How he buried his armour was a bit weird but what did Jev know about dragons. Nothing aside from what he learned living with Wels.

Like that he was warm. Very warm and not in an unpleasant way most warm things were. And he was not against Jevin cuddling up to him in his sleep and the slime used it whenever he had the chance. Which wasn't often with how irregularly Wels slept and how he liked to hide.

Jevin wasn't sure if it was just wishful thinking or a real thing but he had a feeling Wels slept a bit better whenever Jevin found his nap spots. no matter the reason he set out to try and always find Wels when he vanished for a nap. Keeping a closer eye on him whenever he showed any signs of being tired. And silently following when he went to one of his spots. Despite Jevin knowing them all he never found new ones.

And he did so today when Wels excused himself with having to clean dirt from between his scales. He was really weird about his scales and always dealt with them himself. Anyway. Jevin, as usually followed him after that excuse as sure enough, Wels went to one of his hidden 'nests'. He looked really angry with himself that one time he called them that.

Wels must have been really tired since he was already asleep when Jevin caught up to him. "Wels?" he asked just to make sure since Wels was shifting and murmuring more than usual. But there was no answer so Jev assumed the half-dragon just had a bad dream. Nothing new so Jevin ignored it for now and carefully joined him and was almost instantly grabbed and pulled into a tight hug. It would probably be uncomfortable if Jevin wasn't a slime. His organs could accommodate a lot of squeezing. Wels being grabby was nothing new. He clearly had some unpleasant dreams.

But Wels suddenly waking up with a shout, pushing away and crawling back with wide eyes was new. Just like shaking and muttering out strings of apologies.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." the half-dragon mumbled.

“Hey hey it’s okay. It was just a nightmare. I’ve got you now- your dreams can’t hurt you,” Jevin said as calmly as he could, fighting the urge to hug his new friend. Spooking him was the last thing he wanted. "It's all okay Wels, dreams can't do anything to you, and if they could I'd punch them for you," maybe joking would make Wels feel better.

"Oh... Jev... I..." The joke did get Wels to stop apologising but the clarity also had him curling up in on himself.

"It's all okay, Wels. It was just a nightmare, a bad dream, everyone gets those... I think," Jevin said as he gently pulled Wels into a hug. "It's all okay, I've..."

"Thank you... for being here and... everything," Wels mumbled and passed out again. Be it from exhaustion or stress of whatever nightmare he had. And while Jevin could just leave them in the little 'tree house' Wels' favourite nest was it wasn't that comfortable so he carried him to their house. They could talk when Wels rested. And if he wanted to talk about it.

#my stuff #my stories #fanfiction #hermitcraft #hermitshipping #welsjev #welsknight #jevin

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partyoffourplusfur · 8 months

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Ya know I’m not sure I’ve ever formally posted about our dog, Greg, on here. Getting ready to try a new training tool so why not start documenting on here 🤷‍♀️

We got Greg 2? Years ago (time melts into eachother these days) and he’s great. He’s a 3 year old mini poodle (I think he’s a schnauzer/poodle mix) Loves to play fetch, tug, and “get that dog”. He’s amazing with the kids. So tolerant and vocal about when he doesn’t want to be messed with which the kids have learned to back off which is also great. He plays with the cats. (Well Billie. They’re bffs. Olive isn’t a fan of playing with him. She’s a cranky old lady) He loves being brushed and I’m able to groom him myself (a fantastic trait of a long haired pet for a broke ass bitch)

BUT he’s reactive. And it’s a real pain in the ass.

But. He’s just reactive. Not aggressive. I always feel the need to clarify that.

Mostly to other dogs and men. Can’t just let people live their lives.

He will bark up a big bad storm, but the moment said person is near him, he’s on his back asking for belly rubs 🙄 literally. He was barking at a guy running in the neighborhood. Living his life. And got away from us and I had to yell at the guy (he’s just loud! He won’t bite you! And Greg just rolled over the second he was in arms distance of the dude🙄) all bark no bite.

Dogs on the other hand, I keep him away from of course because im not going to let anyone potentially get bit.

We had an instance where a neighbor dog was loose (it’s a whole thing. I actually called animal control on them and they haven’t been out loose since. Anyways) and came near us and Greg lost his freaking mind. Dog was friendly and just wanted to say hi but Greg only saw a threat to me and the kids and I was swinging him in the air by his harness so he didn’t get close enough to bite them or be bit because at that point I would have abandoned him to get the kids inside and then who knows what kind of damage would have been done to the both of them.

We’ve tried redirecting with a clicker and treats. And that works when we’re inside the house. Not so much when we’re in public. Because he’s like DANGER! DANGER! A THREAT TO MY BABIES! A THREAT TO MY MOM! even though everyone is totally fine and he’s the one making a fool of himself.

Anywho. Next we’re trying a bark collar. Which I’ve always been pretty against. Because like who wants to SHOCK their pet? But I’ve discovered that bark collars these days typically have settings, where they first beep, and then they vibrate, and then they’ll shock. And you can change the intensity of the vibrate and shock settings. So really it can be very subtle. And lots of reviews said once their dog realized what the beep meant, they generally learned to shut the heck up because they didn’t want to be shocked. So we’re gonna try it inside the house for a week or so and once we’re not barking so much in the home, then we’ll try neighborhood walks, then try being in public. And hopefully he’ll learn to not bark and we can stop using the collar.

It wouldn’t be so bad if it was just when he was in public. He’s unfortunately pretty reactive to Jesus a lot of the time and always trying to “protect” me (even though I swear he’s his favorite person) Oh like for example last night I fell asleep in bed and Jesus was playing games. Greg was in bed with me and he also fell asleep. Jesus came in to get the phone charger and spooked Greg and he was barking up a storm (and scared the shit out of me) at Jesus even though he clearly knows THAT HE LIVES HERE TOO like damn dude. It’s not that big of a deal he’s allowed to come into his own room. Chilllllllll.

Anyways yeah that’s what’s going on with the dog and I have pretty high hopes. It’d be great if he could at the very least learn to not bark when in the house. He barks at the neighbors when they come into the building or sometimes when they’re walking around too loud upstairs.

Greg is just a loud boy with anxiety.

#Greg #Gregory #reactive doggo #reactive not aggressive #one time he snipped at the kids and it was a final straw for me and I was ready to throw him out and give him away but were past that now

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skyler10fic · 9 months

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Penetrating Questions

Summary: Carol has a fantasy that requires Daisy’s input, but all Daisy knows is that Carol wants her to come over to “talk about their relationship.”

Mostly just mature themes but rated E just in case.

Read on Ao3

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

Carol opened the site in an incognito browser window, worrying if somehow even looking at this would get her into trouble with the university. She reminded herself that she wasn’t in her parents’ house anymore. She was an adult, nearly done with college, and well on her way to complete independence. Only a little while longer. If she wanted to learn about and buy a strap-on to have erotic, passionate, queer sex with her girlfriend, she could! She studied the queer sex website like one of her physics textbooks, taking notes in a document and looking at which toys were in her budget. Of course, there was one person she did need to consult with. But how on earth would that conversation come up organically? It needed to be private. Intimate. And conveniently, she’d have the house to herself tonight.

When all her housemates said they were going out to a party, Carol declined their implied invitation and called Daisy. She hadn’t really prepared what to say, which was a mistake in retrospect, but she didn’t get much of a chance to explain anyway as one of her housemates, Tiffany, knocked again to get outfit feedback and ask what Carol’s plans were. Carol felt bad hanging up on Daisy so suddenly, but Tiffany’s sudden appearance and conversation spooked her. She quickly closed the incognito browser window to show only the window with her social media sites up and made an excuse about relaxing at home.

Tiffany disappeared, and Carol debated whether to call Daisy back. Nah, she said she was coming over, and Carol would explain when she got here. It wasn’t really the type of conversation to have casually over the phone anyway.

—----------------

Daisy groaned in frustration at her homework. She had no idea what this poet was saying, and she had to write an essay on his work at some point this weekend. It was the least fun way to spend a Friday night, but Jemma and Fitz said as soon as they finished their chemistry lab report, they’d be ready to watch the new sequel in their favorite movie series: SuperSpy: Dark Secrets.

“We’re done!” Fitz shouted in the direction of Daisy’s bedroom.

“You can come out now and stop pretending to study,” Jemma added.

“Ha ha,” Daisy said sarcastically as she appeared in the living room. “Poetry gives me a headache.”

Jemma raised an eyebrow. “But the complete gibberish that is coding languages is perfectly natural.”

“Yeah,” Daisy shrugged. “Computers can be a lot easier to understand than poets in the olden times. They don’t try to hide what they say in symbolism and metaphor, ooo so mysterious.”

“Yeah,” Fitz agreed and gestured to Daisy. “I’m with her on that, actually.”

Jemma was spared having to respond in defense of great literature as Daisy’s phone rang. It was Carol, definitely a way to brighten up Daisy’s night.

“Hey, babe!” Daisy greeted. It was a newish pet name she was trying out. So far it seemed to stick, and it made Carol happy, so it might be the keeper.

“Hey, um,” Carol hesitated. “Do you want to come over?”

Daisy mouthed to Jemma and Fitz, “Can she come watch too?” to which they heartily agreed.

“Of course!” Jemma assured.

“The more the merrier,” Fitz affirmed.

Daisy said to Carol, “Why don’t you come over here? We’re about to watch a movie and there’s plenty of space next to me for you to join us.” She used her best flirting voice, both to let Carol know it wouldn’t be crashing the party and because she really needed girlfriend cuddles after feeling so discouraged at her homework.

“Oh!” Carol answered, clearly not expecting this option. “This is, um, this is something that should just be the two of us.”

“Is everything okay?” Daisy asked, growing concerned as she picked up on the anxiety in Carol’s voice.

“Yeah! There’s just a thing I want to talk to you about. But not over the phone. About, uh, our relationship?”

“Okay…” Daisy’s brow furrowed, and Jemma and Fitz quieted their whispered bantering. Daisy stood and ran a hand over her hair. When Carol didn’t elaborate, she added, “Yeah, I can come.”

Carol exhaled, “Good, okay, good. Someone’s coming, gotta go. Bye!”

Daisy stared at her now silent phone as Carol hung up on her. “Uh, bye?”

Jemma and Fitz waited as Daisy stopped pacing and explained. “Carol wants me to come over.”

Fitz prodded, “Yeah, and you invited her here. Does she want to watch the movie? Should we wait for her?”

Daisy shook her head as she tried to form thoughts. “She said she wants to talk about our relationship.” Daisy sank down on the couch next to Jemma. “Oh my god. Is Carol breaking up with me?”

She could hardly breathe. Carol was everything to her. This couldn’t be happening. They seemed so happy together.

“Well, that doesn’t seem very likely,” Fitz dismissed the thought as ridiculous immediately. He got up from the couch and disappeared around the corner into the kitchen to retrieve the movie night snacks he’d brought over.

Jemma agreed, “And, what if it’s something good? You never know. She could be ready to say ‘I love you.’”

Daisy worried her lip. “We’ve already said it.”

Jemma inhaled sharply and put a hand on Daisy’s arm. “Ring by spring!”

Daisy scrunched her brow. “What is that?”

Jemma’s eyes grew big and she sat up in excitement. “Ring by spring! One of the seniors told me about it. It’s an American university thing, apparently. What if she’s going to propose?”

Daisy’s pulse raced for an entirely different reason than it had been.

Fitz reappeared just as Jemma said “propose.” “Wait, just when I went in there,” he pointed back to the kitchen, “she was breaking up with you, and now she’s proposing?”

Jemma sighed. “Oh, it would be so romantic. The two of you graduating and getting married and starting your lives together after all you’ve been through...”

Daisy grimaced. “Okay, let’s not start printing invitations yet. I still have no idea what this is about.” She looked down at her phone, which didn’t have any more answers for her.

The familiar sound of the back door told them Elena was home from a girl’s night with her graduate-level friends.

She greeted them and surveyed the trio of confused faces. “What happened in here? Why does everyone look so worried?”

Fitz summed it up, “We’re not sure if Carol’s breaking up with Daisy or proposing, but she is supposed to go ‘talk about their relationship.’” He did air quotes around the last part.

Elena put down her bag and took off her coat. “What? I can’t imagine Carol ever wanting to break up with you, but no offense, you two are not ready to get married. Carol hasn’t even told her parents she’s gay yet.”

“I know, I know!” Daisy rubbed her hands down her face.

Elena put on her wise, all-knowing, older sister face. “I have a plan.”

That got the attention of the others.

“What if,” Elena started conspiratorially. She leaned in and the others mirrored her. “You sneak over there, very carefully, ring the doorbell, and… find out. Just BAM! Ask her what she has to say.”

The others leaned back, unimpressed.

“Yes, okay, I get it,” Daisy deadpanned. She stood up and looked at her phone again. No new hints appeared. She warned, “Do not start this movie without me.”

Jemma took the remote from Fitz. “No problem. It’s cake week on Bake Off, and we have catching up to do.”

“Let us know if you need anything,” Elena said with a pat on Daisy’s back as their paths crossed, Elena settling in for the night and Daisy headed out.

Daisy gave them all a little salute and grabbed her black leather jacket and keys as she walked out the door. The drive over to Carol’s helped clear her head. Communication was good for any couple. This was healthy. Whatever it was, they could work through it. Unless Carol didn’t want to work through it. Maybe being with Daisy was too hard. And honestly, Daisy couldn’t blame her. They weren’t exactly hiding their relationship from Carol’s parents so much as Carol was just not talking to them at all, beyond necessity. Maybe they forced Carol to choose and she didn’t want to break up but didn’t have a choice… financially, Carol couldn’t afford to finish school without their support. It could be that her entire future was riding on putting aside her feelings for Daisy.

Daisy arrived and turned off the car, full of anxiety and ready to support Carol in whatever way she needed, even if it meant losing her forever. As she walked up the driveway to Carol’s house, she started a script for herself so she could keep it together emotionally. All three of Carol’s housemates were on their way out and said hi and bye to her as they passed, but Daisy hardly noticed them.

She rang the bell and didn’t have to wait long for Carol to bound down the stairs and throw open the door.

“Hey! Are they gone?” Carol asked, looking out the door for her housemates. She pulled Daisy inside by the arm, and Daisy took off her boots to leave them by the inside doormat.

“Uh, yeah, they got in the black truck and drove off already.”

“Good.” Carol nodded. “C’mon, I have something to show you.”

Daisy followed Carol up the stairs to her bedroom, in a decidedly less sexy way than other times when they had been here alone. It occurred vaguely to Daisy that this might have been a simple booty call that she was blowing out of proportion. But then why did Carol seem so nervous?

Carol grabbed her laptop but held it so the screen was partway down and tilted away from Daisy.

“I have a question for you, but don’t laugh,” Carol warned. She noticed they were still standing and gestured to the bed. They sat side by side. “It’s okay to say no, and I know these things can be complicated, and I swear I’m happy with things the way they are, okay?”

“Okay?” Daisy said, though it was more of a confused question.

Carol looked into Daisy’s eyes for reassurance. “Promise you won’t laugh.”

“I promise.” Daisy was dying to know whatever it was.

“This isn’t, like, anything weird, or you know, a questioning my identity thing, or a comment about anything lacking. I was just reading some queer websites and started looking into it and maybe it could be really good.” Carol shrugged, clearly trying to play nonchalant despite her voice being tight and high.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me.” Daisy tried to be brave while steadying her shaking hands.

Carol blushed as she opened the laptop and showed Daisy an article from a lesbian sex writer: “All About Strap-Ons: The complete guide to picking your first, positions to try, and so much more!” Images at the top showed an artful arrangement of various dildos and harnesses to make them look like the coolest accessory trend.

Daisy broke her promise. She couldn’t help it. All the anxiety and tension and preparing herself for world-shattering heartbreak burst out in laughter.

Carol deflated. “You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

Daisy sighed to get herself under control, but tears of surprised laughter still formed. She settled down and smiled at her adorable girlfriend. “No, no, babe, I’m not laughing at you. At least not at this.” She nodded to the screen. “It’s just… you told me you wanted to talk about our relationship, so, like, I was really freaking out here.”

“Ohhh.” Carol realized how her words must have sounded without knowing the reason for their privacy.

“I thought you were breaking up with me, which Fitz refused to believe, Jemma thought you wanted to propose, and Elena thought we were being overdramatic about a normal conversation.”

“Oh!” Carol’s eyebrows raised in realization. “So, everyone was home and knew you were coming over to talk. Okay. And propose, wow.”

Daisy tilted her head. “Did you hear the part where I just spent the last 15 minutes thinking you were calling me over here to break up with me?”

Carol saw the lingering, albeit needlessly preemptive, heartache in Daisy’s expression. “No! No, I don’t! … Do you?”

“Fuck no!” Daisy answered quickly. “I thought maybe it was too hard or your parents…”

“Hey.” Carol put the laptop aside and took Daisy’s hands in her own. “I love you. My parents don’t get a say in that. This is hard, yeah, but not nearly as hard as life would be without you. You are so worth it.”

Daisy’s lips turned up at the corners. “Worth buying a strap for?”

Carol opened the laptop again. “Only if you want to. No pressure.”

“I do,” Daisy said and then caught her own unintentional pun. “Hey, look at that, you got to propose tonight after all.”

Carol laughed. “Sweetheart, when I propose, you’re gonna know. But for now, I’m thinking of a different kind of ring. That’s something I’ve learned already. Rings and different materials and there are so many dildos. Did you know there are so many different kinds of dildos?”

Carol walked Daisy through the guide and they talked through what they were interested in trying and what looked too uncomfortable or was a turn-off or seemed too complicated for beginners. Daisy’s relief at this sign of commitment (though a much different “ring by spring” than Jemma had anticipated) relaxed her, and the more they talked and Carol explained the sexy facts she’d been learning, the more turned-on Daisy got. She cuddled closer and interrupted Carol’s detailed walk-through with little kisses to Carol’s cheek and neck.

Eventually, Daisy got up and locked Carol’s bedroom door. She knew the housemates were gone but not what time they were getting back. As Daisy flipped off the overhead light, Carol turned on a lamp and put on their sexy music playlist they’d made together.

Carol set the laptop on her desk, with her browser open to the end of the strap guide with several tabs open to sex toy shops. It provided extra light for her to see Daisy strip her jacket, top, socks, and jeans off, and for Carol to take off her T-shirt and sweatpants. Daisy climbed on to the bed and straddled Carol’s lap, providing an excellent angle for Carol to reach around to unhook Daisy’s bra. Just as they started making out, Daisy’s phone buzzed with a text.

“Well???” came Jemma’s message checking in.

Daisy showed Carol and typed out a reply: “All good! NBD. Might be a while. Don’t wait up.” She added three winky faces.

The message was received loud and clear, as all Jemma sent back was a laughing face and a “Have fun!”

“They’ll think I called you over here just for sex!” Carol protested.

“Would you rather I tell them that you are an expert on sex toys now and we were shopping for a strap-on?”

“Ah. Good point.” Carol’s fingers started tracing up and down Daisy’s thigh.

“Besides, we have the house to ourselves. We can’t waste a night like this apart,” Daisy reasoned and laid back on Carol’s bed wantonly. In seconds, she had a mostly naked Carol in her arms. As they stripped off their underwear, kissed, stroked, moaned, and fingered, she imagined what this would be like with a strap, riding and fucking and coming on it. It dawned on her that that same very sexy image was what led Carol to call her here tonight. The excitement of their soon-to-be-realized shared fantasy drove their passion as they crested over the waves of pleasure.

Sounds of Carol’s housemates woke Daisy early in the morning. She couldn’t tell whether they were waking up for the day or just getting home from being out all night. Clearly, at some point in the post-sex talking and cuddling, Daisy and Carol had fallen asleep, content in each other’s arms under the covers. Carol had plugged Daisy’s phone into a spare charger on the bedside table on Daisy’s side and laid an extra T-shirt folded next to it. Daisy smiled sleepily at Carol taking care of her and not wanting to wake her up and risk her leaving. She carefully reached to check her phone. 5:15 a.m. Still entirely too early to be up on a Saturday morning. She snuggled back down into bed with her girlfriend and let herself dream about a day when waking up together in their bed, maybe even as wives, would be their everyday reality.

#daisy johnson #carol danvers #aos #agents of shield #captain marvel #daisy x carol #carol x daisy #wlw #sapphic fic #femslash #lesbian carol danvers #bisexual daisy johnson #skywriting #rated: e #just to be safe #marvel femslash

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mamamittens · 26 days

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Well, another night where I'm trying to go to sleep but sleep won't come to me, the cheeky bastard.

So why not ramble about Nikia and the maybe Izou/Thatch ship?

So, if I recall correctly, I had sorta planned on some drama with Thatch hiding part of his relationship cause he was trying to soft launch the idea to Nikia but didn't want to spook her away since she clearly did not do people. You know, with the whole, living on a mountain in near total isolation thing?

And I still like the easy drama but if I'm serious about it, I can't see it lasting the entire first week. Not totally at least. Izou would definitely give Thatch a day or so to make an ass of himself before popping up. And as ill inclined to socialize as she is, Nikia isn't stupid and knows gay people exist. She's just got enough tact to not outright ask once she sees them interacting.

She likely gets a few brownie points from Izou when he notices she's trying to give them couple space and time without making it awkward. Does bully Thatch about chasing her out of her own home though. He's a very physically expressive man and it's almost impressive she doesn't pick up on his intentions. Izou takes longer to really get behind the idea of her as a partner but I'm pretty damn sure they'd both be weak to someone who likes taking care of them a little.

Whether it's in fights or little things like fresh sheets while they're out. It really gets to them when someone takes the time to do something nice for them. They also like someone fretting over them when they stay out too late and come back covered in snow. Swiftly bundled up in front of the fire with a hot drink fixed up.

(Thatch giving Izou a sly look cause he knows damn well Izou is loving the shit out of this)

Also the hugs. Half the reason Nikia has big, fuck off wings is cause hugs would be so damn comfy. It'd be criminal to not consider it a positive.

Maybe there's a super dense snowstorm at one point that forces them to sleep in the main room, the upper level 'sealed' off to retain heat without wasting firewood and they cuddle lol. It takes a bit of work cause Nikia curls up in a ball, used to sleeping alone, and they have zero issue with physical space. But the end result is super cozy and cute. Thatch is teary eyed in the morning cause he doesn't want to get up, half buried in feathers, hands curled around Izou's waist and Nikia's hip. She's just sandwiched in there and buried her face in his chest, Izou right behind her.

If they sleep for another few hours, no one's the wiser lol, but Thatch absolutely uses the incident as propaganda for why they should totally go for it.

Chickens out when Izou calls him on it though lol

#mittens rambles #one piece #one piece oc #nikia op oc

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my-makeshift-masquerade · 1 year

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It All Comes Back To Haunt You (Part 2)

Part One:

(Nobody sends me asks anyway so may as well make content I want to make, even if it seems @glitchysquidd didn’t want to check out the first part. This is mostly for my amusement and they are being directly mentioned only to serve as credit for Frighteningly Intriguing. Anyway, let’s do this with a talking Springtrap this time! Oh, and Micheal’s here too!)

“Christ, do they have any ventilation in this place…?” The tall hooded figure fiddled with some computers on a desk in the faux security office, clearly consumed in figuring out the controls. He heard footsteps, but figured it was the other employee who let him in…

Then he saw it in the doorway. The face of the yellow rabbit animatronic peering from the other room. Eerily silent, head tilting ever so slightly with empty hollow sockets fixed on him…

“SHIT—“ Micheal screamed as he fell off the rickety office chair, grabbing it to throw at the intruder, until he realized the rest of the body of this figure was very much human.

“Hello…?” The smaller teen pulled down the jaw of the springlock head, revealing her silvery-blue eyes.

“What’s wrong, Mikey? Can’t handle a little spook?” Her voice echoed slightly in the metal contraption, but the tone was clearly playful and layered in her giggling.

He dropped the chair and stared in tired annoyance at his sister, “REBECCA, GET THAT— THAT DEATHTRAP OFF OF YOUR HEAD!”

“Relax, it’s not even wound up!” She lifted the rabbit head off her own, resting it on her hip, “If only you’d seen the look on your face! Your eyes nearly popped out!”

“Did you just want to tag along to scare my soul out of my body or are you going to make yourself useful?” He quipped, before realizing something, “Wait, why the hell do they have Spring Bonnie parts here? You told Henry they just had the old models—“

“Uh. Spring Bonnie is an old model?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that they have the springlock suits?!”

“It isn’t a big deal. Nobody is putting them on…” She paused, glancing at the empty head, “…Except me.”

“God… What is wrong with you?”

“I took twice the recommended dosage of my anxiety medication before we left!” The teen smiled, “I’m totally chill!”

“Henry should’ve kept you at home…” Her brother pinched the bridge of his broken nose as he sat down again, “You aren’t ready for these sorts of jobs.”

“Excuse me, I have been handling the spirits for you two since I was six years old.” Rebecca snapped, “They would be giving you such a hard time right now if it weren’t for me being here!”

Unbeknownst to the bickering siblings, their father was keenly listening in and watching this all unfold from the hall. He felt a proud grin grow on his face as his youngest got payback for what used to be a common “prank” done by his eldest. With the spare Spring Bonnie head as well? No doubt, that was his daughter…

Rebecca was much like Evan, a sweet child who’d never dream to harm anyone. Seeing this playful side of her come out with Micheal made him feel a pervasive nostalgia for how things used to be… Yet he also felt his heart sting at the fact it apparently took overdosing on anxiety medication for her to walk in this building again.

God… How he regretted her not perishing like the others… How he wished it all just went according to plan that night…

He noticed his friend approach from the opposite hall, clearly checking on the not so masculine scream they heard.

“What the fuck was that— Oh, hi again. Rebecca, right?” They smiled slightly, until they saw the head in her hands, “Whoa, kid, I don’t know if you wanna be like— playing with that—“

“Oh! It’s alright! I know how they work.”

“Hold on. You do?”

The teen could feel her brother glaring at her. She was really bad at lying.

“Well… The blueprints for it are in that room, so… I-I just read those—“

“We’re friends of Henry’s. He taught us how to repair them for preservation purposes.” Micheal spewed half truths to cover their asses, “Your bosses got in contact with him and wanted someone with knowledge on the older models and to serve as a night guard for this attraction… That’s why I’m here.”

“Oh, that makes sense, but… What about her?”

“My sister covered for me for one night and couldn’t even handle it. Then she tagged along tonight…” He sighed, “Just… Let her sit in the corner to draw in a notebook and she will be fine until morning…”

“H-Hey—!”

“Don’t treat her like she’s a little kid because of what happened before.” The employee instantly stood up for the teenager, “It isn’t her fault she has panic attacks, you jerk.”

“That isn’t the issue.” Micheal replied flatly, “Whatever… I don’t see why I owe you this information—“

The other adult shifted focus, “Rebecca, you said you know how that head works?”

“Y-yeah?” The smallest figure piped up, surprised she was being talked to, “It’s just a simple crank mechanism… W-why?”

“That’s really cool, dude! Wish I had you here when I was fixing Dave’s voicebox. I had to uncrank it all by hand and—“

“Dave? Who the bloody hell is Dave?” Micheal frowned, looking to his sister who took a few timid steps back.

“W-wait… He can talk now?!”

“Yeah! I actually got it to work!” The employee almost boasted, “I assume he’s keeping his distance because of how he scared you last time, though…”

“Could someone please tell me what’s going on here?” The slender figure in the room held back a growl in his voice.

“Uh, I’m going to go… put this head away…”

Becca excused herself and quickly went in the direction of the secret room, only to be startled by the animatronic suit standing just around the corner.

“AH—“

“Quiet.”

As if on reflex, she went totally silent at what was very much her father’s voice hissing at her from within the suit. Frozen in shock, she was pulled by the wrist to a side room.

“P-papa—?!” She stammered, her tone caught between despair and happiness.

“Don’t call me that.” Springtrap spoke lowly, “They cannot know who I really am… Not yet…”

“What are you talking abou—“ His daughter paused, “You’ve… been isolated this whole time…? You were lonely…weren’t you?”

“Why do you have such pity in your eyes?” He looked down at the much shorter figure sternly, “Honestly? After what I’ve done—“

“I-I don’t know… Y-you’re still my dad???” She looked to the floor, “N-No matter what I do… I can’t seem to hate you…”

His eyes widened slightly. William had suspected this was the case, but hearing it from her own lips rendered him rightfully speechless. Did she even live past that day in the spiritual sense…or had he killed her in a way after all? Was her remnant, her soul — stuck at that night, while her body kept aging…?

It was a real possibility. He supposed near death experiences could technically cause the process of remnant attachment to occur anyways, even to the soul’s original body… Is that why she claimed she was able to interact with the spirits of the other children in that conversation with Micheal…?

Oh my. This was fascinating…

It was then that Micheal and the other employee found them. Rebecca started fiddling with the blueprints to look busy.

“Oh, come the fuck on…” Micheal sounded more annoyed than angry at the sight of his undead father, grabbing his sister by the back of her shirt.

She coughed at the sudden tug on her collar, “M-Mikey—“

“You’re sleeping in the car outside until six, then you’re not coming to work with me again.”

“What the hell is your problem?! Dave hasn’t hurt the kid or anything!” The other employee stepped in again, “She can stay if she wants!”

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with, do you?!” The hooded figure snapped, “You think this is a bloody game?!”

“Fuck off man! If you think this is so scary, then leave!”

“I can’t, you utter fucking fool—“

Rebecca and Springtrap awkwardly made eye contact whilst the other two figures were at each other’s throats. It seems they shared a thought: Really? They were gonna have to be the bigger people here…? THEM???

She moved to grab Micheal’s arm, as the rabbit in turn grabbed the other employee’s, both pulling them back, but one doing a far better job than the other.

“C-calm down—“

“Oh, you tell me to calm down?! To fucking calm the hell down?! In front of THIS?!”

“Yes!” She retorted, “Losing your complete shit at this situation will solve nothing!”

“It’ll solve a whole lot of things when I get ahold of him—!”

“Like what?! The damage is done, Micheal! He is one of them! There is nothing we can do to him now!” She started yelling, “STOP BEING STUPID!”

“Uh…Kid what are you talking about…?”

“S-shit…”

“You know who Dave is?”

“Of course we do.” Micheal threw his arms up in exasperation, “You would too if you had half a brain and realized Dave isn’t his real name—“

“Yeah… Says Eggs Benedict…” Rebecca muttered, earning an audible chuckle from the rabbit.

“Could someone just tell me the truth here?!” The employee now got upset, “I’m tired of trying to figure this out!”

“…I-I really don’t think you want to know… The others have been trying to tell you, and you won’t listen to them…”

“What others?”

“My brother— Our brother…”

“Damn, Evan was trying to warn her? You really are dense… He is very persistent.” The hooded figure scoffed.

“Your brother was one of Afton’s victims…?” They paused, “God, I’m so sorry—Wait… Evan was the name of his son… That means you two are—“

“How do you even know that?” Micheal raised an eyebrow, “The workshop?”

“Serial killer podcasts.”

“Ew…” The girl winced, “About him, really…?”

“But how are there two of you…There was only one survivor of his fam— Of course! That’s why your name sounded so familiar!” The employee’s eyes lit up at the teenager, pointing to her, “Rebecca Afton!”

“Uh… My last name is Harris—“

“Not originally! You were his one kid who survived?!”

“P-Please stop looking at me like that—“

“Fuck off.” Micheal put his arm in front of his sister, flipping the other employee off with his other one, “She isn’t some cold case for you to get fascinated by…”

“He’s right.” The animatronic rabbit spoke, catching everyone by surprise, “I knew the man… Knew these children. They’ve been through unspeakable things… It is far from a story you hear about on radio—“

“Podcasts, Dave.”

“Oh, don’t you even try to spin this, you crusty ass corpse looking bitch—“

“Spin what, Micheal?” His father feigned ignorance, “This is all true.”

“Ugh! I am going to springlock your ass all over again—“

“I-I’ll just…go…” Rebecca shuffled out of the room before anyone could stop her, seeing a familiar figure waiting for her at the end of the hall.

“Evan…” She sniffled at the ghostly corpse, “H-hey… Sorry I didn’t let you all play on my phone like I promised—“

“Don’t worry about the pocket telly…” The boy shook his head, “The others can wait on playing with it… We’ve got the arcades…”

“Pocket telly?” She laughed, “I told you, it’s a phone—“

“No it isn’t. It looks and works like a television…”

“You know I could pull up Fredbear and Friends on it… Wanna just… chill in the back until the morning…?”

“Really?!”

“Everything is on the internet, dear brother…”

#frighteningly intriguing

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