#fuck sakes i need a cig (doesn’t smoke)
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guys i think ye olde self insert is done,,, i can’t quite tell im gonna step away from it for like an hour then come back and make sure no noticeable flaws jump out at me but. SQUEEE IM REALLY HAPPY WITH HERRRR
#.mei’s chatter ˚༘⋆ ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖#.mei’s art ˚༘⋆ ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖#she’s not like. done done yk i still have to draw side and back profile (cries). BUT#THE DESIGNING PROCESS IS DONE and bro that shit took a LOT out of me.#im so relieved#the rest should be pretty easy now that i’ve got colors and garments finished#fuck sakes i need a cig (doesn’t smoke)#my beautiful wife will finally have a beautiful girlfriend <3
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JUST CO-WORKERS : aki hayakawa
warning(s) public sex ? idk, but it’s balcony sex at reader and aki’s apartment lol. fwb, unprotected sex, creampie, slight spanking
word count 1,537
author’s note honestly didn’t wanna post another drabble but this has been on my drafts for months now n im having a little aki phase anywayz so hii
aki smoking that pack while giving you backshots, the morning news playing in the background, sun slowly rising across the horizons.
the air felt cool and groggy, the city still awake with lights from the long night, yet no one was outside to see your tits bouncing against the metal bar of the terrace that’s preventing you from falling over 9 stories down.
aki groaned in frustration, a cloud of smoke slipping out his nose and lips as he finally pressed the butt of his cig on the ashtray next to you , “baby, stop moving around so much, would ya?” he was literally asking the impossible judging by the way your body jolts with each thrust.
you mewl, face down to watch as some of the residents from your apartment complex exit the building and vouch for a taxi. “fuck, fuck— aki…” the molten stench of the cig was making you dizzy, enough that you were forgetting that people can hear you.
it’s definitely not the best type of noise to hear first thing in the morning for your neighbor’s sake, but you and aki have been up all night for work and are unable to fall asleep due to the adrenaline rush from killing devils so what better way to cure that than to just fuck like animals for a good night’s— or morning’s rest?
aki hunches over your shoulder, one hand squeezing your tummy while the other tilts your jaw back to meet his eyes. “ ‘m gonna need you to quiet down, alright? i want to be the only one who can hear you.” he leans in for a kiss, one that was full of lust, all wet and messy.
it’s complicated with aki, really. he doesn’t want to be in a relationship but would constantly get your hopes up whenever he’d probe you into these types of situations. the first time was when you came home after a dinner with other co-workers and a drunken kiss led to a hook up. something like this should’ve been expected as soon as you both were assigned to live in the same apartment, you just didn’t expect to like him as much as you do right now.
his cock was stretching you open, clit starting to feel cold from being deprived of touch. your cunt was so fucking wet, the sound of your slick slapping against his balls tickling aki’s ears. his hands were firm on your waist, adam’s apple prominent from his perspired neck.
the base of your ass slammed against his abdomen as you throw it back on him, his abs gleaming from the sheen of sweat and the sunlight peeking past the cracks of the buildings in front of you.
your knees were starting to give out, arms hooked around the railings of the terrace. “aki- i want you, please. please make me cum.” desperation lingered in your voice, it was comical honestly.
“hm? don’t you say the same thing when you’re with other men?”
you mewl when his tip plunged onto your g-spot. “wh-what other men?”
he scoffs, palm striking the skin of your ass and forcing a yelp out of you. “you don’t think i know? all those nights you’d invite some random loser from the bar and i have to listen to you fake your orgasm? i gotta say,” he slaps you again and grabs a chunk of your ass to grip on. “you’re a pretty good actress. but i know you, sweetheart. and i know how fucking beautiful you really sound when you cum.” he chuckles in between pants.
“why do you care so much anyways?” you yelp and aki rocks his hips vigorously, your hole starting to seep with arousal, dripping down your thighs and the curve of your ass marred with the print of his palm.
aki isn’t a chatty person at all, but you’ve been around him long enough to know that if he’s rambling like this, he’s pissed. under those nasty words of praise, his cock is bullying your insides and is risking you of getting a noise complaint.
he isn’t wrong though, you go around sleeping with other men on purpose to make him seethe in jealousy— to make him realize how much you mean to him. you intentionally exaggerate your moans for him to hear on the other side of the wall and he’s taking out the envy on you right now.
his clammy palms bruised the plump of your waist, his breathing heavy and teeth digging on his bottom lip. “because…” he punctures the same spot over and over again at an intermittent pace in between his words. “you deserve more than that.”
you grit your teeth, fists clenched while you whimpered. aki pulls out and wraps his palm around his fat cock, resting it in between your ass while jerking himself off.
he grunts, slapping his tip against the base of your back and taunting you. “so you want me to beg? is that it?” you groan.
“sure. not with that attitude though.” you couldn’t see him, but you bet he probably has that shit-eating grin plastered on his face right now.
it’s a change of pace from his usual stoic attitude.
he sneaks his hand in between your legs and teases your clit, the flat of his finger flicking you. “aki- don’t do this, shittttt…” you were starting to feel your stomach contract, sweat trickling from your forehead down your nose. the heat of the sun was starting to cower the dewy air, you turned your head, mouth quivering from the immense stimulation.
“please aki? i’ll be good to you. i’ll be a good girl for you…” it was so unnatural for you to pout as you are right now, bottom lip sticking out as you plead to him.
aki laughs, moaning while he fucks into his fist before poking his tip back in between your folds. “ ‘wasn’t that hard now, was it? ‘knew you had it in you.” he takes one of your arms and pins it on your back, a ball of his spit plopping down his cock before he snaps his hips against your ass.
his cock stretched your tight hole deliciously, thighs jiggling with each thrust. the tv’s noise and your moans was now swallowed by the honking and the engines of cars downstairs, you can practically see the whole road with your tits smashed against the railings. your arm is sore from being held behind you, slick running down your inner thigh.
“aki, fuck, cum with me, ah fuckkkkk” you curse out loud, your breathing jagged and sharp.
he stutters, grunting as he lets go of your arms and bruises your waist with his calloused hands. “w-where?”
“inside, baby. hah- ‘want you to make me yours.” he frantically slipped himself inside of you once more before fucking you full of cum mixed with your own, pulling his cock out with a pop! sound as translucent white cum dripped down your clenching pussy.
“fuck,” aki gasps and you turn around, seeing his face drenched with strands of his raven hair sticking to his forehead. he massaged your breasts, your palms cupping his cheeks and pulling him in for a longing kiss as you walk back into your shared apartment.
you hadn’t realized he was leading you to his room and onto his bed, you were too lost in his familiar lips that tasted of spearmint and cigarettes. you pulled from each other, your thumb pressing on his bottom lip.
you never slept in the same bed even after sex. it’s as if it was an unspoken rule— a boundary you should never cross.
however, this time felt different. aki got you to lay on his mattress and covered you with his fluffy comforter, the buzzing of the ac easing your sore body.
he settled next to you after putting his boxers back on, back against the headboard. “you’re free tomorrow, yes?” he asks, opening up a bottle of water from his nightstand and chugging on it before passing it to you.
“yeah duh, we’re in the same division.” you take a sip from the plastic bottle. probably not the best idea to share a drink with a chronic smoker, but you stopped caring.
aki always hated having to express his feelings especially after the tragedies that had occurred in his life. you were the only one that didn’t pity him when you found out about his past and that gave him a sense of hope.
maybe he’s not cut out for this and more so that you’re supposed to have a wall of professionalism in between you two, but to hell with all that. “let’s go on a date tomorrow.” he sighs.
“as…?” you slumped your head on his shoulder.
“as a couple, duh.” he places his nose on the top of your head, getting a whiff of your coconut shampoo.
“awh, is this your first time asking someone out?” you scoff.
“don’t make me take it back.”
“okay, okay! fine, i’ll go out with you tomorrow.” you’re being nonchalant, but nothing can express the amount of happiness bubbling up inside of you.
he hooks his arm around your shoulder and pushes you closer to him. “this means we’re dating now, right?” you whisper, pecking his jaw lightly.
“yes, babe.”
#the ending was kinda eh but wtv#aki hayakawa#aki csm#aki hayakawa smut#aki smut#csm#chainsaw man#csm smut#chainsaw man smut#aki x reader#aki hayakawa x reader#aki x reader smut#aki hayakawa x reader smut
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I see as you are
Joel Miller x F!reader ( ~ 18+ MDNI ) 1,7K
…….……………
Summary: Joel refuses to change, that only means suffering for himself. He faces the consequences of choices he doesn’t want to admit he’s making.
Warnings: ANGST. This is literally all angst. No happy endings bc we keep things real. Mention of sex but no actual scenes of intimacy. Joel is MEAN! ( he doesn’t want to be though. ) Very detailed negative thinking patterns. Joel and reader sleep with each other, but there’s no real definition of what they are. Just generally a depressing vibe. Joel and reader smoke cigs. no use of y/n
A/N: First ever x reader fic and I’ve decided to come out with emo nonsense lol. I was listening to a song when I thought of this. link is below if you want to listen.
“It’s not good, It will never become good no matter how long you wait.” The words tumble, shaky in their exit, like a secret stolen out of a chest. It’s the truth, in its simplest and barest form. Lying out flat on the splintered railing of his back porch, the blood and the rot of it seeping into the wood.. “This is all I can give you.”
He looks over to you like your mind would’ve changed, like you’d have suddenly understood that he’s a monster. That he is exactly who he is. That you see the blood and the rot of it, too. That he himself is virulent, and cannot provide what you deserve. He finds no such thing in your eyes, or anywhere on your face for that matter. No trace of horror from the truth. No stains to be found. You look as though you’re not surprised in the slightest, blinking slowly. You look as though he’s just told you the sky is blue.
The truth of himself has only ever brought him and those around him pain. It irks him that you don’t seem to fit that standard and fills him with the need to shake you like a rattle by your shoulders until it finally seeps through your skull so you will understand.
He frowns at you instead.
“I don’t want it to be good, I just want it to be.”
Silly, silly girl he thinks. He is certain you do not know what you are asking for, as you don’t deserve it, and neither does he. His frown hardens as you look back out at the garden. The grass is dead and mushy with the rain constantly drowning it, puddles of muddy water with floating, brown grass stands. Dead trees lined up against the fence like a wall. You exhale your smoke. His eyes bore into your side profile, drinking up every minute tick of muscle, every inhale and exhale, every movement of your eyes, and the motion of your hair. He sometimes feels as though he should not even be looking at you. That he does not deserve to take in all of these details, does not deserve to think about you. You’re worth more and deserve more than to be trapped in his thoughts. He doesn’t want you there, anyway. He really really doesn’t.
He’s just so tired. Resigned to the loneliness that surrounds his shoulders. The surface-level happiness that comes when he’s on patrol with Tommy, Accepting the time he gets to spend with Ellie with a smile, even though he wants to scream and cry to have her back.
So, he knows he should force you away. For your own sake and his, but he never says anything to stop you when your molten cunt wraps around him so tightly like an all-encompassing embrace.
“No.” He says it simply, and that makes you laugh slightly before you turn to him.
“No?” You repeat in question, blowing the smoke out of the corner of your mouth, the taste sticking to your tongue, the scent clinging to the both of you like dew.
“I can’t watch what I’ll do to you if you give me that.”
“You’re not a bad man, Joel-”
“Quit,” he begs. That’s what it is really. Stop being something he’s never had. Stop fighting for him - he can’t take it. Always the wet dog left outside. Always greeted with a sigh, his name an exasperated breath for most. He doesn’t want to fucking think about it anymore, he doesn’t want to look inwards. It hurts. He’s tired of the choking pressure in his throat every time he finds himself in his own company. No one by his side but his greatest enemy. He’s tired of being left outside, of having to witness the people he’s most loyal to enjoying dinner in a warm home with laughter while he sits in the downpour, staring through the window with not a glance his way. Goddamnit, Ellie brought Cat to dinner at Tommy’s house to ‘introduce her to the family’ - Joel didn’t find out until he accidentally overheard Cat asking Maria for her baked potato recipe, and he still finds himself crying about that every night he hasn’t drunken himself to sleep. He’s wryly impressed that he hasn’t run out of tears.
He’s so defeated. His shoulders weigh a thousand pounds. His face is almost constantly crumpled in an uncontrollable display of sorrow.
“I’m not quitting you, Joel.” Insesant, annoying little girl. Stop makin’ this difficult and throwin’ a tantrum. you slowly climb into his arms after leaving the burning cigarette in the ashtray, wrapping your arms around his neck slowly, like he might spook - he probably would. He can’t look at you, not yet. He swallows thickly around the lump in his throat as you lean forward and rest your chin on his shoulder. Hugging him despite him not being able to hug you back. “I only want what you’re willing to give me.”
And you both know it sounds a little too much like love. He’s torn between the churning of his stomach and the temptation of your arms - of comfort that he knows will make him burst into tears and let everything out once he allows it. He’s not ready to face that.
Bristling at the mere thought and caving inwards in shame at the fact that the sharpness of his fear stabs you.
“Please don’t do this, sweetheart..” Because good god, you must have some sense of self-preservation, don’t you? He’s going to bleed you dry, he’s going to drown you in his sorrow and tears, he’s going to snuff out the last bits of shining light in your eyes you’ve managed to keep all these years.
Because that’s what he always does, doesn’t he? He ruined his relationship with Ellie with his selfishness, ruined the girl herself with his actions. He burst into tears when he accidentally caught a glimpse of what she wrote about herself in her journal. How she’s completely lost any light that used to live in her bright eyes. Curious eyes that saved him with their warmth and her golden laughter. Her stupid puns that she doesn’t even laugh at anymore.
He ruined his relationship with his little brother with his violence, his hatred. He remembers the little 7-year-old who thought his older brother was the best thing in the entire world. Who would cry whenever Joel left the house to hang out with his friends, Who would follow him around just to be by his big brother’s side, running through the long grass of Texas fields, playing cowboys and Indians with missing front teeth and scraped knees. Who now can’t even look at him without that look of sympathetic sadness. That look of disappointed acceptance. ‘I know you can’t help who you are, what a shame.’
“It hurts me to see you like this.” and that makes him want to thrash. Why do you care? Why are you grounding him? Why is he taking up space in your mind and being acknowledged? Your awareness of his pain only makes it real.
A ghost doesn’t become real until two people have seen it, not really anyway. The fact that the little girl who he views as his own, hates him. The fact that he’s become a touchy subject - a disappointment - to his younger brother. That’s all real.
Because you see it too.
He feels as though he can’t breathe. If no one cared for him, everyone shut him outside to sleep in the rain, he could find acceptance in that. He could learn to curl himself into a ball and wait for someone to finally step outside so he can follow them until they leave him in the cold again, learn to deal with the nauseating chill. But here you are inviting him into your home, leaving the light on for him and waiting at your open door. Peakin with those bright little eyes and pensive expression. Inviting a dirty, wet dog into your clean, warm home.
“Then don’t look at me.” He knows he’s being petulant now. Knows that your frustration is mounting, and he feels quite happy about it. Yes, be angry with me - and leave me to sit in the rain. But your fingers are gripping the canvas fabric over his shoulders, no longer mourning. No longer soft.
“Why do you keep choosing to suffer?” It comes out as an accusation, and he guesses it is. It’s easier when it’s sharp like this. Mean and aggressive and fiery. It’s better than the putty-like feeling of hollow sadness that sits in his stomach when you try to coax him gently. Try to get him to choose happiness for himself.
“I’m not choosin’ anything.”
“Don’t talk shit to me.” He almost wants to laugh at that, “You’re choosing to stay exactly where you are. You’re choosing defeat, Joel!”
“And what the hell makes you think you’re some damn messiah?! That youre goin’ t’make me so damn over joyed?! You can’t give me anythin’ I want!” And oh, he’s so mean. So childish. He knows full well you could save him if he let you. Knows he’d feel so much better if he eventually mosied over to your open door, leaving that window of everything he yearns for behind, you’d give him a warm bath - turn him from some stinky outside dog into something that shows signs of being loved.
You get up off of his lap, standing still and facing away from him. Guilt immediately gnaws at his chest. His jaw tenses like that’ll chase the feeling away.
“It’s not about me, Joel,” you whisper, and he can tell you’re trying to fight off tears so he doesn’t feel bad.
God, his bottom lip quivers.
He hasn’t hated a single thing more than he hates himself.
“It never has been.”
You grab the slightly bent box of cigarettes, stuffed into your pocket with your lighter. You take two steps away before he speaks, staring at the splintered wood of his porch.
“Please don’t go,” he whispers, and your boots stop padding against the floor.
“You can’t even look at me, Joel.” You say simply, resignation in your voice now. White flag waving.
He doesn’t watch you walk away, he can’t.
a/n : tysm for reading! hope you enjoyed. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated!
#Spotify#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller#tlou fanfiction#tlou x reader#the last of us fic#the last of us#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#the last of us 2#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n
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barty working at some run down convenience store and he has a thing for the pretty girl who comes in buying cigs even though she's underage
GASP llaaaaayyylllaaaaaaa !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
you always manage to. ugh. just. YES. fuck this is so them!!!!!!! you get them, you understand them. ily.
—
Barty is still leafing through his magazine a moment later when he smells the gust of lilies and citrus from the other side of the counter. He grins.
A bottle of cherry coke zero clanks down on the counter along with a smaller bottle of vodka. “And a packet of Reds.”
Barty’s grin widens. He doesn’t look up when he winces and says, “I’m gonna need to see some ID on that, sweetie.”
Nothing. Then, a crumpled bill and some coins are thrown down next to the beverages.
Barty tuts when he finally lets himself look up and into enticingly piercing green eyes. Lily’s hair is a mess today and while her gaze is bright as any day, there’s a shadow of exhaustion hanging underneath her lower lashes.
“C’mon, kid, just show me that stolen ID again and let me tell you how much prettier you are than that girl in the picture,” Barty purrs, watching as Lily’s eyes narrow. “For old times’ sake, baby.”
Lily frowns, “Just hand me the cigarettes and I’ll be on my way.”
“Oh, but see that’s exactly what I don’t want to happen,” he replies, propping his palms onto the counter, leaning his long torso over.
Lily sighs and she shuts her eyes and her lips thin into a line and for a moment Barty thinks he’s going to get that one rare noise again where she’s whining like the most pitiful, exhausted, sweetest little thing. The first time she’d pressed it through gritted teeth Barty was so stupid from arousal he’d slipped the cigarette package over the counter and gave her the opportunity to leave earlier than planned.
Right now Lily takes a firm breath instead. Bummer.
But Barty isn’t giving up just yet. “Y’know, you shouldn’t buy that anyways. Stuff’s bad for you.”
“And you shouldn’t browse through the Playboy on the clock,” Lily sneers.
Barty grins and ducks closer, “Why, you got something better to show me?”
Lily’ cheeks take on a lovely pink tint, her freckles flaming over her rosy skin. Sometimes she reminds Barty a little of a cute fawn.
Barty nods at the beverages on the counter, “You gonna take that to a friend?”
“No,” Lily replies, frowning. Like it would be the most irrational thing to pick up a friend and have a drink with them. She’s so cute Barty wants to eat her.
“Gonna drink that all by yourself, sweets?” he inquires, grinning.
Lily huffs, “That’s none of your business.”
Barty hums, “Let me tell you something.”
“No, thank you.”
“Why don’t I take my break now,” Barty goes on, undeterred, “and I’ll have one with you. And I’ll let you purchase the cigs. Even throw in a lighter for free ’cause you’re so easy on the eye.”
Something just shy of a whimper catches in Lily’s throat. “I just want the damn smokes,” she mutters at the ceiling. Barty thinks the pale skin of her neck would probably bruise so easily if she’d just let him.
“Brilliant, then it’s settled,” Barty concludes and sorts the money into the register before slamming it closed pointedly.
He grabs the smokes from behind him and picks out a lighter with a wolfish grin. He fishes for the keys and the ‘Be Right Back’ sign from under the counter and then ushers a grumbling Lily out the back door.
There’s an old, ratty plastic chair and Barty lets himself plop down into it with a sated sigh. Lily keeps standing in the bare space in front of him and glares, “What happened to the second chair?”
Barty shrugs, “Someone stole it.” Someone being Barty and yes, the chair fits in nicely with the rest of his balcony furniture, thanks for asking.
Lily’s mouth tightens, she opens her soda. “Well, how hospitable of you to offer me the seat then,” she snarks.
“Oh, you’re very welcome to sit,” Barty returns, purposefully widening his legs and bucking his hips. “You look exhausted, love, and I promise I’m very comfy.”
He watches Lily’s gaze harden again, the wall building up, higher, and she purses her lips. She looks like she’s one more remark away from kicking Barty out of the wobbly chair but then suddenly she moves forward. She stops right between Barty’s legs and honestly, he hadn’t hoped he’d get this far today so his brain operates a little slow. Eventually he manages lifting his hands and guiding Lily around and to sit square in his lap.
They’re so close suddenly, Lily’s hair is tickling Barty’s nose and she feels heavenly where she’s placed on top of him. Warm and soft. She smells so good and the crook of her neck is right there. Barty has to work hard to control himself when spit pools under his tongue.
Lily tugs at her sweater subconsciously. It’s a low v-neck and Barty’s in a perfect position to ogle down her cleavage. “Smokes?” Lily asks, a little impatiently.
Barty hums, licking the corner of his mouth and gnawing on his bottom lip as he unwraps the cigarettes blindly, still hungrily taking in the soft swell of Lily’s—
“Stop staring at my tits, perv.”
Barty looks up to see her glowering expression. He licks his lips again. Lily’s gaze flutters down for just a second.
When the plastic wrapper is off, Barty opens it and flicks against the bottom of the carton. He takes the one that shot out the farthest and holds it up between them. “For good luck,” he explains, “Smoke it right before your exam.” Barty doesn’t know what prompts his brain in that direction but he finds himself planting a kiss along the length of the cigarette. Then he holds it up to Lily’s lips as well. She kisses it dutifully, so good for him, right on the spot where Barty’s mouth just lingered seconds ago, none the wiser that this is not at all a step in choosing your lucky cigarette. Barty puts it back in between the others with the filter up.
He pulls out two others and first sticks one between his own and then Lily’s lips. The urge to press his fingers in deeper is there but Barty ignores it skillfully.
The lighter is procured, Barty takes Lily’s chin between his fingers to light their cigarettes at the same time and then their smoking and nursing their drinks in comfortable silence. Barty can feel Lily readjust and squirm for the duration of her first smoke but then his arm lifts off the armrest and around Lily to pull her closer. She shifts up with a quiet yelp but settles quickly after the fact, if with a warning glance when Barty’s hand stays high on the outside of her thigh.
Lily’s skirt is soft fabric today, some kind of cotton with a mesh cover on top and it’s airy and short. After the third consecutive smoke and half the empty vodka flask later Barty has three fingertips digging into the bare skin of Lily’s thigh without complaint and a semi in his jeans.
“Lily,” Barty rasps after another two smokes. The redhead is mildly slumping against Barty’s embrace, eyes lidded and looking like she’s not far from falling asleep right on top of him.
“Hm?” she makes, blowing out smoke.
“You’re not feeling too well with exam season coming up, huh?”
“No shit,” Lily responds.
Barty’s lips tug at the corners, “I know a way to make you feel good.”
For the first time in a while Lily tenses in his lap, eyes widening in alert. “No,” she says.
Barty rolls his eyes with a grin, “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“I’m not having sex with you.”
Yet, Barty thinks. “That’s not what I was going to propose,” Barty corrects, smartly.
Lily raises her eyebrows in disbelief. God, she’s so hot when she isn’t taking Barty’s bullshit.
“I was gonna say kiss you.”
“No.”
“Just a little.”
“No.”
“Only the neck.”
Lily pauses. Bingo.
Barty lifts his unoccupied hand and moves her curls over her shoulder, exposing her throat to him. He lets his fingers flutter over her pulse point feather light. “Just gonna kiss your neck a bit and make you feel good.”
“Barty.”
“Gonna make you feel good, I promise,” he mumbles, gambling.
A sigh, then a barely there whisper, “Fine.”
Barty’s breath hitches and then he leans in and lets his tongue out flat to lick a long stripe up Lily’s pretty neck with a groan. He closes his lips around the skin and sucks hard enough to leave a mark, just behind her ear. Lily shudders in his lap and when Barty pants another breathy noise against her skin, he hears her moan quietly as well.
Lily tastes heavenly, like raspberry and lime, and clean and flowery. He licks and kisses and sucks and makes out with Lily’s neck, gripping her thigh so far up it’s nearly ass and getting increasingly harder the more she melts into him and the louder she gets.
Lastly Barty makes the mistakes of sucking too hard and pulling Lily from her trance so that she promptly extracts herself with a hiss. Her lips are bitten red and her eyes are wide and dewy as she stares at Barty in shock, cheeks flushed and Barty would literally sell all his organs to know what Lily is thinking right now.
Eventually she stutters her way through arguing why she has to leave now and Barty nods dutifully, still high off of the taste of Lily on his tongue, before helping her up and opening the door for her. Like a gentleman. As soon as her back is turned he cups and adjusts himself in his pants.
When they come back into the store there’s a small queue lined up outside and Barty smirks when he sees Lily blushing deeper.
Barty leans down to her ear from behind, “Well then, sweets, see you soon.” He presses the lighter into her palm and then steps past her to unlock the door for the costumers.
Lily responds something unintelligible under her breath and then rushes out after the people waiting have stepped inside.
On the sidewalk Lily turns and searches for Barty through the window. When their gazes lock she holds up the hand with the lighter and mouths, “Bambi?!”
Barty simply winks at her.
#bartylily#this got out of hand#lune’s tiny fic#barty crouch jr#lily evans#barty using bambi as an endearment is so jarty coded but im just so guilty of the lily as a deer image in my brain ok im soorrryyy#she’s so. roadkill.#layla tag
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44 for the dialogue prompt <3
44. “There really is a thin line between love and hate, huh?”
Eddie needs a cigarette.
Nevermind the fact that he’s actively smoking one. He needs more. Like— like twelve more. Yeah. Twelve more cigs all lit up at once and crammed into his dumb mouth so no one can see how his jaw is hanging slack and fucking stupid over Steve Harrington and his horrible rodeo clown outfit.
Two days ago, Steve called Eddie up and explained that he had volunteered to chaperone the kids’ Sadie Hawkins dance on Friday night, but his car was in the shop and could Eddie pleeeease give him a ride?
And Eddie, being a goddamn moron and assuming that “chaperoning” meant “wearing my usual polos and jeans combination that you have learned to stop drooling over,” agreed. Smiled real big into the receiver and said ‘No problem, Harrington, I’ll see you then.’
And now. Now, it’s a problem.
A Problem, because Steve really went all out with the school spirit, dressed himself up like Dolly Parton’s biggest fan (red neckerchief, denim button-down with rivets all over, chunky belt buckle and worn leather cowboy boots) and then left Eddie to stew about it in the parking lot all night.
He’s been loitering out here for almost two hours now, a little stoned and chain-smoking against the side of his van and wondering how the hell he’s supposed to drive all the way back across town with this guy in his car without spontaneously combusting or trying to suck the dude's dick.
And like—
Like, yeah, sure, they made out at that party last month when they were both smashed and now Steve keeps calling him out of the blue, but that doesn’t mean he’d let Eddie grab him by his denim lapels and maul him against the side of his van in a high school parking lot. Which is really all Eddie can think about doing at the moment.
He takes a long, shaky drag.
“Hey, Eddie!”
Eddie’s head snaps up, and he spots Steve waving at him, doing a graceful half-jog across the lot toward Eddie’s van.
Eddie stamps the cig out beneath his boot — regrets it immediately, because what the fuck is he supposed to do with his hands? But he can’t focus on that right now. Not when Steve is coming to an easy stop right in front of him, smiling like an eager, windswept puppy who just ran laps around the park. Steve sweeps a hand through his perfect hair and pokes his tongue between his teeth and says, “Howdy.”
Howdy. With a little wink and everything, so like. Just kill him now, honestly. Kill ‘em both, for both their sakes.
Eddie fishes for another cigarette. Finds the pack empty, fucking shit. His eyes rake over Steve and the ridiculous outfit that he can already tell is going to haunt his hottest dreams for weeks. “There really is a thin line between love and hate, huh?” he mutters under his breath.
“Yeah?” Steve adjusts the bandana at his throat, shoots Eddie a cocky grin and steps into his space. Presses him against the side of the van and brushes a curl behind his ear. “Which side are you leaning toward, cowboy?”
And it’s like all at once the spell breaks. Eddie gags, sputters, “Oh, god, Stevie, hate! Complete and utter hatred; that was awful!”
He spits at the ground like he’s trying to get the taste of Steve’s terrible pick-up line out of his mouth, and Steve throws his head back and barks out a laugh, all his pretty moles on display under his stupid denim collar.
Eddie laughs, too. Laughs hard, can’t tell if he’s laughing at how pleased Steve seems to be with himself, or how ugly Steve’s shirt is, or how the ugliness isn’t really lessening Eddie’s desire to fuck him while he’s wearing it.
“God,” Eddie sighs around a smile. “You’re the worst.”
“I know,” Steve smiles back. His expression softens then, goes hesitant around the edges. “But, um. I think, like…”
His eyes drift to Eddie’s lips. Back again, looking up through long, pretty lashes. “I think you might want to kiss me anyway?”
Eddie leans in. Nose to nose, sharing breath. Their lips brush. “Think you might be right.”
---
send me prompts!
#thanks bestie!#you're the yee to my haw#steddie#steddie fic#steddie drabble#writing prompt#asked and answered#steve harrington#eddie munson
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Is it alright to request Bakugo, Todoroki, & Kirishima finding out that their usually well put together s/o secretly smokes (only to cope with stressful stuff like a rough home life) but now that she’s with them she tries to quit but then a bad mission happens & they walk in as she’s shakily holding a cig? Happy ending pls. Sorry if it’s complicated recovery isn’t linear & ive been feeling bad just thinking abt going back to it.
Sweetheart, please don’t apologize! I understand, okay? No judgements whatsoever. I’m really sorry you’ve not been feeling well, but keep fighting, love. You can do it!! You got this!! I’m so proud of you for taking this giant step for your health <3 and so are the boys :> I put it under a cut because it’s long ^^
Katsuki, Shouto, and Eijirou with a s/o who’s trying to quit smoking (Scenarios)
Warning: slight mentions of relapse, smoking
Katsuki:
He knew. He knew you’d had a particularly bad day handling an awful situation - the kind of job any hero (maybe even Katsuki himself) would pass off onto a rookie so as to avoid having to deal with it. He knew you’d been trying your hardest to quit smoking. He knew you only picked it up as a way to cope. He knew it was hard. He knew it all. He was right there with you.
Yet it didn’t break his heart any less when he got home from his own hero shift to see you trembling and holding your head with both hands, an unlit cigarette nestled between your shaky fingers. A lighter lay on the coffee table in front of you, seemingly forgotten but not really. Your sniffling was loud, and it pained Katsuki to hear it, as if with each sniffle the hand around his heart squeezed tighter and tighter.
“Y/n.” He doesn’t say or do much else, and neither do you. It’s quiet, save for your sniffling and occasional hiccups. Katsuki sighs, not out of frustration, not out of pity, and certainly not out of anger. Well, maybe there was a hint of anger, but it was not aimed at you. It was aimed at whosoever pushed the put-together, organized you to this habit which was giving you a run for its money. Quietly, he moves to sit next your trembling form, wrapped in the plush blanket you got him for his birthday last year. It smelled like him. No smoke, no ashes. Him.
“Just take deep breaths,” he says quietly, afraid to spook you, as he slowly brings up his arm to wrap around your shoulders and bring you close. You’re rigid. Stiff. And so unlike yourself. “Don’t feel bad, y/n. Stuff like this... it’s hard. There’s no such thing as perfection when it comes to recovery. No one gets it right on the first try.” It’s hard, rewiring your brain not to crave a certain substance, or anything else, really. Katsuki hasn’t dealt with this firsthand, but as a hero he’s seen enough to know no one gets it right on the first try; sometimes people slip up.
“People slip up. And that’s fine,” he continued softly. “They just need to push themselves back up and fight back even harder. I’m so fucking proud of you, alright? And you - you’re tough as hell, you know that?” He stops, as if to gauge your reaction. And react you do. You bury your head in his chest, dropping your hands to your lap without a word. Saying something is too much right now. The cigarette is still between your fingers, but Katsuki gently takes it from you and tosses it onto the table.
“Maybe you don’t realize it, but you are.” Katsuki pats your shoulder furthest from him, leaning down to whisper at you. “You’d have to be, to put up with me and my bullshit,” he jokes with a pinch to your cheek, and finally you chuckle with a wee grin. “No, seriously! I always leave the toilet seat up, I scream at the TV, I never put my laundry right into the hamper, and I always forget to wash dishes... I’m kinda hard to live with.”
“You also kick in your sleep,” you quip with a giggle, voice tiny and meek yet full of love and spunk.
“Ah hell, do I? See, the list goes on and on.”
You shake your head wistfully, your grin growing by the second, but then it leaves you for something sweeter, something quieter. “Thank you for helping me quit, Katsuki.” The gentle lilt in your voice is music to his ears, though he wouldn’t outright admit it.
He huffs at you playfully. “Aw, shaddup. With everything you put up with from me, I’d say we’re even.” He almost seems bashful at your thanking him. Maybe he is.
“No, not quite. You also walk around naked at the worst possible times.”
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”
You turn to look up at him, eyes gleaming - and not from tears. “My friend really didn’t need to see you walking around in your All Might boxers.”
He shrugs it off. “She should’ve knocked. And you shouldn’t have bought them as a gag gift, babe.” Katsuki flicks your nose gently, leaving you to you wrinkle it and recoil from him.
“Jerk!”
Shouto:
Damn paperwork.
His back hurt, his eyes burned, and his wrist was currently cramping.
Yet it was better than everything you dealt with on patrol earlier. He wasn’t sure how you made it back in one piece like you did.
With a yawn he decided that’s it, a break is most certainly due. So he’d go looking for you, maybe even just five minutes together would make him a new man. But he couldn’t find you. Oh. Shouto wasn’t panicked by any means, but he was in a hurry to find you. He knew if even after one relapse, no matter how short-lived, you would beat yourself up about it better than you do villains. Even if there was no need to. Relapse happens sometimes.
Finally, he found you in the alleyway behind the agency. And he found the cigarette. It was lit, snug between your lips and slowly developing ash. Your hand was so shaky, Shouto was worried something was medically wrong for a second before he realized himself. He called out to you, a hand reached out as he approached. You jumped in your skin, head jerking his way, one lone tear trail on your cheek. “Y/n, please put that out.”
You wipe your nose with the back of your hand unceremoniously, but it didn’t bother him. “I’m sorry,” you breathe. “It’s just- it’s hard. I feel like I’m trying to put myself back together, but I’m missing a piece. Does that make sense?”
Shouto looks at you gently. “It doesn’t matter if it makes sense to me,” he says clearly. “As long as you understand it and talk about what you’re feeling, I’m happy. Why don’t you tell me more about what you’re feeling right now? It helped last time.”
“Overwhelmed. I’m overwhelmed as fuck.” You suck in a breath and bring your fingers to your lips to pick at them rather than take a drag.
“There’s nothing wrong with that. Being a hero is hard work.” He’s being supportive. He understands; he’s a hero, too.
“With everything at home when I started... and being a hero...” your voice breaks, “pushing one down for the sake of the other and trying to hold myself together and quit... it sucks, Shouto.”
Your love’s eyebrows pull upward with worry. “I’m sorry, love. You always do your best, you do so well.”
You glance at him with tears in your eyes before dropping the cigarette to the ground and stomping it out with a drawn out sigh. That... actually felt nice. It hurt, too, but it was nice.
“I know I’ve said this before, but I want you to talk to me when you’re craving, okay?” Shouto’s hands grab yours, thumbs rubbing the back of your hand soothingly and slowly. “It doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing. I want you to talk to me. I want to help.”
You nod quickly, unable to form words as tears well up and your lips fight against you to grimace. You wipe at your eyes with your free hand, sniffling all the while. You choke out a quiet “thank you,” and swallow thickly, only for Shouto to lean toward you and plant a kiss to your forehead before pulling you in for a warm hug in the cool alley.
“Dont thank me,” he whispers, squeezing you tight for emphasis. “It’s only natural I want to help you. I love you. All of you. No matter what.”
You nestle your cheek to his shoulder. “Even if I fuck up?”
“Are you kidding? Of course, y/n. I’ll always be so proud of you for fighting on.”
Eijirou:
“Hey, y/n-“
You blink at him, cigarette between your lips and lighter in your shaky hand. Your eyes are puffy and your cheeks are red. The flame of the lighter licked the cigarette but did not light it, and then suddenly died out as you pulled your thumb off the plate below the wheel. You reached up and closed the window of the bathroom before sitting back down on the side of the tub with your hands in your lap. “Please don’t be mad...”
The grin he wore just before he saw the cigarette faded. “Hey, I’m not mad.”
“I had a really bad day and... I dunno.” You looked down at your hands and the lighter and cigarette within them. “I just needed one. Just one. To deal with it.”
“But...” He hesitated, worried he’d come off too chiding. “Remember? ‘Just one’ turns into two, then three...”
You nod. “I know, I know, but...” Your sniffle hits his ears and it’s hard to hear.
“I’m not mad, or trying to be mean... I’m just worried.” Eijirou scratches the back of his head almost awkwardly. “Why don’t we go for a walk, yeah? Get some fresh air, too?”
You didn’t feel like it, but agree anyway. Eijirou doesn’t take you anywhere in particular, just walking and turning here and there when he felt like it, your hand in his all the while. You’re quiet the entire time, but he speaks enough for the both of you, talking about everything he sees or whatever a certain sight seems to remind him of. His hand squeezes yours every so often, as if to remind you that you don’t need to say anything, as long as you let him do this, let him distract you, let him help you - how ever you want to word it.
But suddenly he stops and turns to you, red eyes bright and gleaming. “Can I ask something selfish of you?” It’s sudden and unlike him to ask something like this.
You’re taken aback, but nod anyway.
“Any time you get the urge, any time you catch yourself reaching for a cigarette, will you promise me you’ll get out and take a walk?” Eijirou’s voice is quiet and soothing, yet you pick up concern. “Or just get up and walk around if you’d rather not go out. Please? Even if I’m not around...?”
You smile at him, his expression immediately relaxing upon seeing it. “Promise.”
“Good! I don’t know how well distraction would work, but maybe it’ll help.” He shrugs and continues walking again, pulling you with him. He had a point. Some fresh air did feel nice, and hearing the birds chirping as you walked by a small park was relaxing. That, mixed with the warm and kind hand of your lover, seemed to wash away the awful day you’d experienced. It was so soothing, you wondered why you hadn’t thought of this sooner.
With a sweet sigh, the tension in your shoulders dies downs an you relax, finally, for the first time in a while. This was Eijirou’s doing, certainly. This walk would only be half as pleasant without him, but you promised. Push comes to shove, you could go out for a coffee or snack break on your walk to keep yourself occupied.
“Hey, Eijirou.”
His hand squeezes yours before he turns to look at you. “Hm?”
“Thank you.”
He gives you a toothy, closed-eye grin. “O’ course, sweetheart!”
#mha#mha scenarios#mha x reader#bakugou x reader#todoroki x reader#kirishima x reader#bakugou katsuki#todoroki shouto#kirishima eijirou#take care lovely! 🖤🤍🖤#I hope you enjoy these!!
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Control P7
TV SHOW: THE QUEENS GAMBIT
COUPLE: BENNY WATTS X READER
RATING: SWEET + SCARY AF!
I sat at the table finishing up the paperwork, "All done?" she asks as she brought me a cup of coffee
"All done, did you want to go and send it?"
"maybe tomorrow Benny, I don't wanna go out today" she says sitting across from me,
"Okay well send it off tomorrow." I smiled
"and buy an extra lock for the door"
"why?"
"You know... just incase"
"Mikey is not going to come all the way here just because he's mad at you y/n. I'm sure he'll get the news drink himself to sleep you have nothing to worry about" I reasured her holding her hand
"and if he doesn't"
"Then I promise, I'll protect you."
"you can't protect me from everything benny."
"Yes I can. I won't let anything bad happen to you"
"Thank you benny" she smiled
"You're welcome. and as soon as its all clear I promise we can go out and find you a nice pretty ring" I told her
"I'd like that" she smiled getting up and cuddling me so I happily hugged her close to pulling her to sit on my lap so I could hold /her as close as possible "I love you" she smiled into my neck
"I love you too y/n." I told her giving her nose a kiss "Now that's all done, you wanna play chess before bed?"
"No thank you benny, I think I'd like a nice big bubble bath"
"Ohh? would... mind if I joined you little lady?"
"What in my bubble bath?"
"Yeah"
"I'm not sure the bath is big enough for us both benny"
"I'm small" I shrug
"Yes and I'm not"
"Y/n. will you get this propitious notion out of your head. you are not fat. you are not large your a size Y/C/S for goodness sake"
"So, that's still bad"
"It's not bad, it's lovely. I like you just the way you are, your lovely and comfy" I smiled laying my head on her chest "and squishy" I smiled pulling her closer to me "and... how could I forget about these" I smirked grabbing my breasts
"Benny!" she argues giggling the whole time "You wouldn't want me to be skinner?"
"Not unless you really wanted to be" I shrug "would you rather I was.. more muscular? with Budging muscles and a six pack?"
"No, I like you how you are Benny" she smiled giving me a kiss
"Good, I like you how you are too" I told her "However I do need to get more in shape"
"why?"
"Because somebody, keeps feeding me delicious cakes and things." I told her "I have a tummy now" I complain moving her hand to the little bit of a stomach I now had due to eating so many sugary things that she keeps baking me
"I'm sorry benny" she giggled
"It's fine there all lovely, and very delicious the issue is you make me a plate of cookies or a cake every day, and there is only two of us little lady. You make a big delicious plate of your triple chocolate cookies and you put them in front of me there's nothing to stop eating them, That and I have to get in shape and stuff for the tournaments"
"Ummm, you are the most attractive chess player in the world" she giggled
"Second, only to you little lady" I smirked giving her a kiss "Maybe I don't have to anymore, not like I need to impress anyone. When I'm marrying the most beautiful girl in the world"
"Awww Benny" she giggled "i know how you could work out" she giggled
"Ohh? how is that?" I asked her she got up and pulled me up with her
"I'll be your weight" she giggled
"will you now?" I laughed "alright, but you can't complain where my hands go then. I like to... have a firm grip on my weights" I smirked slightly ticking her
"Benny!" she giggled pushing my hands off her "Alright, but you drop me. I am never, Ever, letting you have sex with me again" she warns
"Alright y/n" I smiled "Ready?"
"Yep" she giggled
"One. two. three" I smirked picking her up holding her like a bride "Fuck you are heavy"
"Hey!"
"What you are! fuck your heavier then my chair" I complained slightly regretting this decision
"Benny..." she whines "That's not very nice" she says looking like she was going to cry
"No no no don't cry little lady, I didn't mean it, I'm just a weakling" I told her making her smile a little I did a few lifts of her but she was way heavier then what I was use to lifting so I carefully put her down on the chair
"Good work out benny?" she giggled
"Yeah, My arms feel like they might drop off, and I got to feel so boob so. Good day"
"I know something that's very good exercise?" she giggled
"Ohh do you now? and what would that be?" I asked her
"I think a smart boy like you already knows the answer to that benny" she smirked grabbing my belt and pulling me down onto the chair with her...
I wondered around the supermarket basket in hand and the list in my other hand, y/n wanted to stay home today said she was going to work on roast dinner for this evening, and I was excited. But I had shopping to do today, I was meant to send her paperwork off today but I left it at home by accident, I'm sure I'll do it tomorrow. I think to some extend y/n just wanted me out of the apartment I don't blame her if she did, I don't know why but I've just been really horny today. Not sure why just one of those days I guess, I could barely keep my hands off her in bed, barely stopped kissing her as she was making breakfast, and I could barely stop myself when she had a bath this morning. I think she knew and that's why she gave me an intricate list and kicked me out the apartment, and after her bath she put that little white dress on, the clingy one with the cut out back... Umm she knows what that dress does to me. The moment I saw her in that dress I grabbed hold of her and all but humped her sexy ass as she cooked until she kicked me out to go shopping.
Once I had got everything on the list or as much as I could find anyway, seriously? what is a scotch egg and where do I find it! God damn brit. Ehh I love her, just means I have to live life unsure what half my food is. as soon as I payed I took the brown paper bags and hurried down the street to the apartment, pushing open the unlocked door and setting the shopping on the kitchen side Instantly I spotted y/n still in that little white dress now with her cardigan over her I smirked and grabbed her giving her a playful tickle kissing up her delicate neck slightly grinding against her
"Benny- Benny please you don't understand" she says pushing me away but, I was worried that wasn't her playful giggly pushing like she didn't want to be tickled or even that she didn't want my kisses, she was upset, she was stressed, something was wrong.
"Y/n? Are you okay little lady?" I asked and she froze as our bedroom door creaked open...
"Hello watts." He smirked leaning his tall muscular body in his white vest, and completely open blue button down, his rough black jeans and working boots
"Hello Mikey." I said my blood running cold, "Y/n what's going on?" I asked her
"Y/n. Go get me a pack of cigs" He told her handing her a few dollars
"Mikey I-"
"Go, I'm dying for a smoke" He told her slapping her arse
"Go y/n, I'll deal with this" I whispered to her and she nodded taking her bag and heading to the door
"Mikey what are you doing here?"
"Just checking up on things. You've had my wife here a while." He says "Training her? I'm thankful for getting that fucking chess board out of my house but... You can't blame me getting a little worried about my wifey sleeping on your air bed" He smirked
"Mikey-" Y/n began at the door
"Y/n!" He yelled at her "Men are talking." He says
she nodded and left shutting the door behind her
"I told you what I'd do if I ever saw you near her again"
"You did. Go on then Watts. Hit me" He smirked digging though the shopping bags in the kitchen "Hit me you little weasel" He smirked as he found a beer
"You will not hurt her"
"she's my wife, I can do whatever I want to her"
"Not anymore you fucking can't"
"why not!"
It then hit me, he hasn't seen the paperwork. He doesn't know. He doesn't know y/ns divorcing him, he doesn't know anything me and her have done as far as he's concerned she's been sleeping on my airbed training with me for the championship
"Not In my house" I told him I didn't want to tell him, I knew if I did. y/n wouldn't be safe. she wouldn't be safe with him here either but, at least I'm here to protect her.
"Whatever" He laughs "I think, I'll stay a while, until the championship. Me and y/n will take the bed. you can have the air bed" He says punching my shoulder as he went past going to the leather chair sitting there with his beer, I tried not to smirk thinking about last night, the last thing y/n and me did on that chair. "I was a little worried when I got here, she didn't know I was coming ans she had dressed up so beautiful for me. But I guess she just knew I was coming having been married so long you know these things" He says
"Yeah"
"she got comfortable I notice, her stuffs pretty laid out, the bed's not even out?"
"we pack it away durring the day, more space you know"
"Yeah I get that, nice of you to let her stay here, and hang all her clothes in your wardrobe and her soap in your shower"
"Just wanted her to be comfortable you know"
"Yeah, Yeah. I get it." He smirked "Ohh and benny?"
"Yeah?"
"If I find out you have laid a finger on my wife. make sure you give her a kiss goodbye Because I'll make sure you never see her again." he warned
"Are you threatening me Mikey?" I warned him
"No. simply saying that if someone had touched my wife. I'd make sure they never saw the light of day again. we clear benny?"
"Yeah, were clear Mikey"
I stood trying to clean up the beer cans around the leather chair where Mikey sat listening to a game of something on the radio. Y/n in the kitchen making the various foods he asked her for.
"I need to piss. Then we need more beer in" He says getting up and going to the bathroom, the moment the door shut I carefully wrapped my arms around y/n pulling her to my chest
"shhhh shh shh it's okay, he won't hurt you. I promise" I whispered
"what is he doing here?"
"he's suspicious, Y/n the paperwork's on the table. say the word and I'll give it to him."
"No, it's not safe, we have to wait"
"If your sure" I nodded "He didn't hurt you before I got home did he?" she only nodded pulling back her hair to show a cut on her head she hand put a band aid over he had clearly slapped her it broke my heart I gently kissed it better and held her hand "I promise he won't lay another finger on you, not if I can help it"
"I know, its okay benny, just have to wait a little while until he's less angry" she says
" anything happens you call for me okay?"
"I will" she nods holding me close I could feel in her grip she was scared, more so then I had ever known her to be, I wanted to kick him out, I wanted to beat the living day lights out of him for what he has done to her, But my priority above all else was making sure she's safe. I couldn't bare for her to get hurt, much less because of me.
"what are you two talking about?" Mikey asked as the door opened and I put space between us
"Just about dinner" I said quickly
"Yeah, I am waiting for my dinner wifey" He smirked slapping her ass as he walked past "Hurry up with it Fat ass I wanna get to bed I'm jet lagged as fuck."
"Just a little longer Mikey" she says
"Alright, come on then keep me company" He smirked to her she looked upset, disgusted but she went over anyway and let him sit her on his lap, I sat at my table watching him like a hawk his hand often wondered around her dress but she would always put his hand back to her waist each time he looked more annoyed with her for stopping him my blood boiled every time I saw him touch her like I wanted to go over pull her into my arms and kick his ass.
"Mikey no" she told him as he slipped his hand under her dress
"Oi! I've had a long day and I want a little sugar" He smirked trying to pull her closer
"I said no" she says before I could blink he threw her to the floor hard kicking her stomach hard as he got up
"I wasn't asking!"
I bolted from my seat and stood between them y/n got to her feet so I pushed her behind me "Leave her alone"
"Get out the way watts"
"No"
"This doesn't concern you"
"I'm not letting you hurt her"
"Watts. Don't interfere. this has nothing to do with you. Not take your skinny little weasel ass and fuck off back to your sissy chess board. While I deal with my Wifey"
"No." I told him "I'm not letting you hurt her."
"Get out of my way Watts"
"Never"
"Fine" he smirked "Much more fun" He grabbed y/n by her hair and dragged her to the corner he took of his belt and used it to restrain her neck like a dog around her and then tied around the pipes along the wall of my apartment the more she struggled the tighter it would get I tried to stop him but it was too late "There, now wifey's out the way, just you and me." He smirked "Go on I'll be sporting I'll let you throw the first punch" He smirked I built up all my anger, my rage at him for everything he had ever done to hurt y/n I swung my first but he grabbed my fist and crushed my hand as hard as he could making me scream in pain falling to my knees he punched my face hard making me fall to the floor trying not to let on how much it all hurt, holding my hand close to me, I was almost sure I had at least a broken finger "Yeah that's what I thought, she's my wife. you stand between us again you'll get much worse" He smirked
#benny#Benjamin Watts#benny fanfic#benny smut#benny x reader#benny imagine#bennysmut#bennyimagine#benny watts#benny watts imagine#benny watts smut#tqg benny watts#BENNYWATTS#bennywattssmut#tqgbennywatts#The Queens Gambit#the queen's gambit#thequeensgambit#thomas#thomas sangster#thomas brodie sangster#thomassangster#thomasbrodiesangster#thomas sangster imagine#thomas brodie sangster imagine#thomas brodie sangster i#thomas brodie sangster smut#thomas brodie sangster s#thomas sangster smut#thomas sangster x reader
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i couldn’t be more in love • richie tozier
(richie tozier x reader)
my tag list hasn’t been working recently so hit my line if it doesn't work this time
requested: i can't find all the requests but i got asked for a part 2 several times!
warnings: some alcohol, mentions of drug use, heavy drugs (cocaine, and a brief allusion to heroin use), sexual themes, references to sex, references and mentions of addiction, angst, but a nice ending, unedited haha
part 2 of i wanna see you but you’re not mine, also inspired by paris and so far (it’s alright) by the 1975 lolol
[title taken from i couldn’t be more in love by the 1975]
(losers + reader are mid-20s.)
2.7k words
♡
bitter air nips at your nose as you inhale deeply, white noise of traffic clogging the atmosphere as lights tinkle behind your peripheral vision. the smoke makes its way to your lungs and in the darkness of the night, a swirl of sooty regret that calms your veins and sets them on fire all the same.
"i have to say, it's hard not to take offense of you not inviting me out here." a voice in the solitude of the back of the bar makes you jump a slight bit, but you blink as if unaffected.
but holy hell is that not true. your fingers shake with the beat of your heart as you meet richie tozier's eyes, feigning a smile as you let out a cough of a laugh. "wasn't sure if you'd want a smoke." you lie, twisting on the cold of the brick wall you lay against to take another drag while taking him in.
he’s devastatingly beautiful.
richie's rolling his eyes, walking closer to you in his bright jacket, the pattern nearly making you dizzy. slender fingers slowly grab your wrist and you do nothing but watch limply as he slides one of your cigarettes from the carton and then your eyes follow all the way up to his cherry lips and you're lost in thoughts again - memories of last year when he'd kiss you with those very lips, when those lips would travel over the expanse of your body. a split second and you can’t stop yourself as you remember when those lips said i want you to be mine through a bright smile, and then you remember the heart shattering fall of those same lips when you'd said no.
you remember the last thing those lips said to you.
i’ll see you around, those lips had said. but it had been a lie - you knew it then and you know it now - because that was five months ago and tonight was the first night you'd talked to each other since.
not for lack of you trying, but after the third missed call and several weeks of richie happening to be dead asleep whenever you were over, you stopped trying.
"so, how you getting on with your life?" you ask as you take a sip of your beer that you'd set on the concrete. and then the dismissive answer from richie, an uncharacteristically short and bored, "its alright."
you blink. not good, not bad, not well, my band just released a tape, or the other night i tied eddie's shoe strings together and he fell on his ass.
just alright.
you spare a glance at richie, and as he's lighting the cigarette you realize that he's so much different than the last time you saw him - physically he's nearly the same, except for the nostril ring that glints in the streetlight of the alleyway behind the bar. but emotionally, he's... not here. at all.
“you’ve changed." you say, as if it's a casual thing and not the only thought that you can force through your teeth. richie lifts a brow. "no i haven't."
it's short clipped, and so you look away, heart stinging. he's hurt. you huff, shaking your head as your shoe scuffs against the dirt. as you exhale the smoke, a puff of your breath spreads around you and the cold air presses in on your bones.
"so you left town for a bit, did you?" he asks, clearly trying to be nice. your eyes catch his forearm as he rolls up his sleeves, and the prickled bruises that scatter them cause a wave of nausea to overtake you.holy shit, that was new. he doesn’t seem to notice as you take a shaky breath, eyes tearing away from his arm before you got sick. you guess he never really was that good at selling. couldn’t cut down.
you wonder where the old richie is, the one who used to let everything bounce of his shoulder as he laughed, cracking jokes and flirting mercilessly with anything that moved. despite this, you just nod. "paris."
"and? did it just change your life?" he's muffing you up but you roll with it, knowing that if you lose yourself now then this conversation will be explosive. and bill was banking on you and richie getting along tonight, as he'd reminded you.
"i learned a lot," you say through another drag, eyes trying to find the stars among the dark midnight sky in the middle of the city. "it was beautiful, the school. and i never really missed here, i guess. my folks just thought i couldn't hack it. i wanted to prove them wrong."
"but here you are. guess you proved 'em right... not enough noise but too much racket, huh?" richie asks through a drag of his cigarette. you roll your eyes as you move to look up at him. "maybe you were right. you're still the same poetic asshole after all."
he seems to take humor in your words as he pulls a drag through a half-assed chuckle, shaking his head. "there are a lot of things i could say to that, doll. but i'm not going to."
and you want to punch yourself in the stomach as you feel butterflies echo in your chest from his pet name.
"for who's sake?" you ask, and richie's eyes meet yours. his pupils are huge, the black almost swallowing the bright blue whole, and his stare is almost empty. your heart hurts.
he just watches you, eyes flicking from the cigarette between your lips to your eyes and back. "you better tell me about your paris trip quick, y/n, i'm almost through with my smoke." he says jokingly, waving his lit cig between his knuckles. the burning embers bright up his face, narrowing his high cheekbones in the dark light.
"giving me an ultimatum? god, i missed you." you say to him, the look he shoots back giving you chills. richie narrows his eyes, and you know you're both walking on thin ice, dancing around the fact that he fell in love with you and then you fell in love with him but despite that, it didn't work.
why didn't he love you anymore? because as much as you deny it, you know you never stopped loving richie tozier. richie laughs, but it’s too sharp.
"that's a ridiculous joke coming from you. but i...need to piss. i'll be right back." he says, putting out his cig on the brick wall, but you sigh as you shake your head. he's turning to leave, but you catch his arm just in time. he looks at you expectantly, and your heart pangs.
he gestures impatiently, and you decide fine... if he's going to be this way, then you're not going to beat around the bush.
"what, you're not even going to offer me a line?" you ask. the wool of his sweater is rough against your fingers and his arm twitches slightly. he looks at you, guilty and nearly...surprised.
did richie really think you hadn't ever noticed? didn't he know you noticed all those trips to the bathroom last year, at parties or in the middle of a group hangout, or when it was just the two of you, in between romps in his messy bed? did he think you hadn't noticed how many bloody noses he gets, the dented credit cards, the twitchy eyes. his racing heartbeat? didn't he know you noticed everything about him?
he gnaws his lip, "only have like half a bump left with me."
you tear up despite your resolve, and you shake your head, "you don't need it. can't you just enjoy my company?" you ask. the sudden shift in tone is nearly palpable as richie's breath catches in his throat, his adam's apple bobbing a bit. you don't let go of his arm.
you know you sound desperate, but then again you are. the need to be with richie is tearing you into pieces, and it has been for months. you know you made a mistake - you just want him to listen to you. you barely catch his lip quivering before he tilts his head back, sending a quick huff of a laugh to the tall roof that covers you, the cold air fogging his breath. "the problem is i enjoy it too much, y/n. you know that."
you look at richie, mouth slightly open. "richie..." you don't know what to say. your silence seems to push him further, “i know we're trying to be friends. but i don’t want to feel us at all. i want to be numb again.” he says desperately, eyes rimmed with red and unshed tears that threaten to fall. you feel like he's just plunged an ice cold knife into your heart. "it was easier when you were gone." he mumbles, hand rubbing his face, his curls falling over his hand.
"even when i was here it seemed like it was pretty easy for you to ignore me." you whisper, eyes watery.
"you know why i didn't answer your calls, y/n." he says, leaning against the wall. you sniff, a tear falling down your cheek and leaving a stinging cold on your face.
"i was angry at you. i know that that's not... i know it wasn't really justified, but i just couldn't stop thinking." he says, and you drop his arm so that you can wipe your tear trail. he continues with a shaky breath.
"you were doing better than i was, i saw it. i know you wanted to talk to me, but... it's like you could just decide to flip a switch with your feelings for me. do you know how scary it was to fall for that?"
his words leave you silent, and it dawns on you that when you thought you were protecting your year-long friendship with richie, you were really tearing it in two.
"i was so fucking mad, y/n/n. i was so hurt because i went and fell for you and i thought you fell too, but then you said i was just a good fuck -" a tear escapes his eye and his glasses are starting to fog up. you feel like you're moments away from sobbing. "-and then you told me it was better if i starting seeing other girls after i asked you to be my girlfriend. and i was sort of just left in the dust, because you would still tease and flirt with me, especially when we were with the others... and i didn't know how to act. i was so scared and confused." he's crying, now. his cheeks are pink, as is the tip of his nose; his eyes are watery and he keeps sniffing, wringing his hands as he keeps speaking. you're stunned.
"then i went and did what you wanted, because you seemed happy and if you were okay then, y'know, i could be too. and i was seeing other girls, but you went and got upset with me for it. and i was so fucking mad.”
he’s wiping a tear and you itch to brush the curls from his forehead, but you don’t dare move, as you don’t know what’s about to come out of his mouth next.
“because what about this fucking insane love that i have for you? these feelings? it was like you were flipping a switch whenever it was convenient for you, or when you were lonely. and i was so mad that you didn't love me the way i loved you... that’s how i felt, i guess. but what was i supposed to do? wh-what am i supposed to fucking do now? and now, if i don't force myself to be all annoyed with you, i don’t know what i'll do. because i couldn’t be more in love. i don’t know what to do."
you can only stare at him, your heart thumping so hard you have to steady yourself against the wall. what the hell do you even say to that?
you gently grab his hand. his palm shakes in yours, fingers long and cold as they fidget slightly. but he squeezes your hand and so you lay your other on top of his and you gather the courage to try and put into words the amount of love you have felt for a year. "chee..." you mumble, his breath catching slightly when you use the nickname you used to use back when you were sleeping together.
"i... i’ve known how badly i fucked up, but i still had no idea how much i hurt you. i know i lack enthusiasm and urgency with...whatever this is. this has been. but i still care. i want to make you happy, but this stupid idea that you and i being together may ruin our friend group made me blind. i hurt you so bad, because i'm selfish and can't keep myself away from you but i was afraid of how much i let you affect me. i've been running from happiness and i'm so sorry i've hurt you, richie."
it’s quiet as he processes what you’re saying, and you know it’s going to take a lot more than just this to fix what you have, but you just need to be near richie. you feel like you may explode if you dont show him how much you love him. he deserves more.
"i believe you." he says, and he's almost sighing in defeat, and that hurts you even more. "i'm sorry too. i was an asshole."
you shake your head, your hand rising to cup his cheek, and your eyes meet. you see the blue, the size of his pupils seemed to have returned to normal and your lip quivers slightly, "please, i miss you. i don't want to fight anymore."
he shakes his head, mumbling, "me neither." before crashing into you, engulfing you with himself. his sweater is warm and rough against your cheek as you wrap your arms around his waist, squeezing like he might disappear.
even while hugging he's still towering over you, keeled like a bear over you and making you nearly lean back as he pulls you to him. and when he says it this time, it's raw and whispered, honest against the white noise of the city.
"i love you."
you turn to crane your head up and your nose hits his jaw, the smell of his cologne mixing with the cigarette smoke residue. he turns to meet your eyes, and you smile against him, a tear leaking from your eye slowly. "i love you too, richie."
he kisses you, just as you tilt your head to him, and his lips are warmer than you remember. it's soft, salty and laced with your tears; but it tastes like a promise and you put your all into it, hand sneaking into his curls. “i don’t want to leave you tonight.” he whispers softly against you, his thumb rubbing your cheek in a way that has you melting.
"please come back to mine." you whisper against his lips.
and then an hour minutes later after brushing tears from each other's cheeks, richie ditching his nearly-empty bag of powder in the bin, bidding good-bye with fleeting explanations to your friends, a closed bar tab, a seven minute cab ride to your apartment, and a deep conversation, richie's climbing with you into your bed.
when you wake up the next morning, richie's hair is full in a curly halo around his head, his bare back rising slowly in the early morning light. he's on his stomach, an arm loose around your waist and his face towards you. his breathing comes out in puffs through his red lips, the sight making your heart swell. the heavy dread you've felt the last six months is finally gone, not following over your head like a deadly haze. you feel like the light is finally back for the first time since you fucked it all royally.
you kiss his forehead softly, and he stirs.
"promise you won't kill me in my sleep, y/l/n." he mutters as his eyelashes flutter, and you almost laugh as you whisper, "i forgot how much you snore. may just have to smother you with my pillow next time to get to sleep."
you're covered in warmth as he laughs tiredly at that, pulling you closer to him, kissing your bare neck and heaving a sigh with his body pressed against yours. you lay with a grin on your lips, feeling like those old, romanticized ideas of you and richie that you used to have in your head finally have some closure.
a glimpse of the boy you fell for is shining through, and you realize that no matter which richie it is, day or night, rain or shine....
you couldn't be more in love.
tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @simplesammyx @sft-core @clownsloveyou @moon-shine-baby @trashedfortozier @daughter-of-the-stars11 @oceandog13 @chl0bee @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @cowbellies @deepestofwaters @thegaytheatrekid @flowerceilin
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I Trust Him
Summary: Unlike the others who are so eager to please that they practically beam when he gives them a hello, Jim hasn’t met this one face to face yet. As far as he knows, Hood is on the side of the heroes these days, but just barely. It’s been a confusing couple of years. There’s a duffle bag with eight heads stuffed into it that he just can’t sweep under the rug.
Read on AO3!
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Jim checks his watch. The signal has been on for ten minutes now, its trademark bat silhouette shining against the backdrop of Gotham’s smog and pollution like a holy beacon. He’s running late tonight.
Jim pulls his jacket tighter around himself and it takes everything he has not to shiver as his breaths turn to mist in front of his mustache. If Batman got a paycheck, Jim would dock him a hundred bucks for making him wait in the cold like this. He should have brought a heavier jacket.
“Need a smoke?” he hears, which just about gives him a goddamn heart attack. He wheels around, hand flying instinctively to his gun holster, only to find the Red Hood leaning against the door to the roof. And he thought the Bat was good at sneaking up on him. Hood’s holding out a pack of cigarettes.
Unlike the others who are so eager to please that they practically beam when he gives them a hello, Jim hasn’t met this one face to face yet. As far as he knows, Hood is on the side of the heroes these days, but just barely. It’s been a confusing couple of years. There’s a duffle bag with eight heads stuffed into it that he just can’t sweep under the rug.
“No thanks,” he says after a moment, pulling his hand back from his firearm. “I’m trying to cut back.”
Hood tucks the cigs into his jacket pocket. “Good choice. These things’ll kill you.” Then he snickers, like he’s sharing an inside joke with himself. “So where’s the fire?”
Is...Is this it? Batman really sent the Red Hood ahead instead of meeting Gordon himself? Jim hopes he’s not mad at him; he’s been waiting three days to show Batman the pictures he took of his latest kitchen remodel. “Uh. There have been rumors of a robbery happening tonight at the Gotham Museum of Antiquities. A team job, at least four men. I don’t know what they’re looking for, but my intel is pretty sure the target is in the art exhibit.”
Hood nods. “Gotcha. I’ll head over there.”
Is it weird that Jim is so accustomed to the Bat vanishing on him that he doesn’t entirely know how to end a conversation? Not this kind, anyway. Jim rubs his hands together, trying to coax warmth back into the frozen appendages. “If you don’t mind me asking, where is he? Batman, I mean.”
“Had a date. I was unlucky enough to be serving backup tonight.”
“Batman dates?”
“I know, right?” Another snicker. It’s so creepy hearing him laugh from inside the helmet, echoing faintly like a threat. “I keep telling the others how fucking weird it is but they just get all ‘it’s about time he settled down’ and ‘they’re both old so who cares’ and ‘so what if she’s a criminal, she makes good sangrias’. Fuckin’ kissups.”
Jim doesn’t know what surprises him more: that the Batman and Catwoman rumors are true, or that Hood is friendly with the other bats. Since he first started showing up in Gotham, the Hood has always been a wild card. Only kills the worst of the worst, but in such brutal ways that he can’t be trusted not to escalate. And yet, he’s been spotted on multiple occasions giving food to the homeless kids in Crime Alley and escorting the working girls home at night. Then he goes and reveals that not only is he on friendly terms with Batman, but that he’s practically one of the family now? If Jim had a death sentence, he’d ask if Hood’s doing this all just to torment him.
“So when’s the robbery supposed to go down?” Hood asks. “I’m a busy guy so I gotta arrange my manicure appointments accordingly.” Jim is pretty sure that’s a joke. Then again, who knows? Jim makes a point of never missing his monthly spa days. His cuticles are grateful for it.
“Sometime between eleven and two. I already have some of my men watching the place, but these guys have nabbed priceless objects from right under security guards’ noses.”
“Got it,” Hood says. “Do the bat thing. And for your sake, I promise to stick with rubber bullets this time.” Thank the lord. Jim isn’t in the mood for the extra paperwork any deaths would entail. Hood pushes off the door and heads for the edge of the rooftop, taking out a grapple gun. “Now get back inside, commish. You look fucking freezing.”
Hood raises his arm to shoot off a line, but Jim stops him. “Wait. Can I ask...is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“That you’re him. The one he lost.”
Hood turns to face him and crosses his arms. “Does it matter?”
“To me? I like to think so. It near broke my heart when the kid stopped showing up.” Understatement. When Batman lost his second one, Jim didn’t see the big guy for weeks. The best he got were glimpses in newspaper articles, detailing the Bat’s new form of violence as if the world had personally wronged him. He’d truly gone off the deep end, and Jim knew in his gut that it wasn’t just vengeance for himself.
Then, when Jim was sure there was nothing to be done, a new one showed up. The third kid. He wasn’t like his predecessor, who was the brightest firecracker Jim had ever met. He liked chocolate bars and doing cartwheels along the roof’s edge while the adults talked, chiming in with a quip every once in a while.
Sometimes Jim would make a trip to the vending machine right before their meetings and buy the kid a Snickers bar, just to see him light up. Robin would repay him by sneaking into his office and planting a bag of Swedish Fish somewhere he knew he’d find it. It became a game for the two of them.
“He died,” Hood says. Jim can’t see his face, but he imagines a scowl hiding beneath the helmet. Just like his mentor.
“And now?”
A shrug. “He got better.”
Jim shoves his hands into his pockets. “Well, if you happen to see him, give him my best. I’ve missed him. He’s a good kid.”
“Was a good kid, you mean. People change.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Whatever the case, he was always my favorite one.”
Hood’s expression doesn’t change because...well, it’s a hood. But Jim likes to think that he’s smiling under there. “I should go.”
Jim nods. “Good luck. And go easy on my guys, will you? It’s not easy getting them to trust a gun-wielding maniac. No offense.”
This time when Hood snickers, it’s not as threatening as it was before. “None taken. But what about you? Do you trust a gun-wielding maniac?”
Now there’s a complicated question. After a moment, Jim settles on, “I can’t say that I agree with everything you do. And as far as the GCPD is concerned, you’re on real thin ice.” Hood nods, like he expected that much. “But that kid who used to hide candy in my office? I trust him.”
Red Hood raises his grapple again and gives a quick two-fingered salute. “Cool. See ya, Gordon.” And then he’s gone, leaping off into the shadows.
Even though there’s no one left to see, Jim smiles and salutes back. “See you, kiddo.”
#batman#jim gordon#Commissioner Gordon#jason todd#red hood#robin#dc robin#batman and robin#dc comics#fanfiction#fanfic#batfamily#batfam#batfamily bingo
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𝙞 𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙬 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙞𝙩. 𝙞𝙩 𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙬 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚. 𝙞𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞 𝙗𝙡𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙩
𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙙𝙜𝙚𝙨, 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙨, 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜.
━━ m. hornbacher / @chrjaehoon
\\
𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙤𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚. as if. if anything suran is more so a spectator to the sport. a hungry pair of inquisitive eyes peering over the bastardized scrapbook rendition also known as mother’s dating (dating? wedding?) history. suran’s own has pages ripped, names crossed, corners singed, coffee stains, water damage, and question marks in farcical circus font that makes one wonder—what the hell are you doing? she’d like to know too. but what twenty-something didn’t have a fucked up ledger and a trail of fractured hearts and burned bridges? suran wouldn’t have considered it abnormal of her, knowing how people are, how she is, how ‘love’ (fickle and flighty) tends to be.
all this, as one would imagine, is a popular conversation topic among ballerinas during early morning smoke breaks. love. dating. etcetera etcetera.
and usually, a nosier ballerina, bony fingers struggling with a neon pink bic lighter would say: you just haven’t met the right person yet.
in which she, head swirling with nicotine and eyes sharp would spit: i’m not the right person [for that shit] ever thought of that?
though, statistically, she isn’t far off. let’s recap. the last few years had been a case of cheating followed a case of fucking imploding into oneself (hers and hers, there’s no longer any way in telling where her issues ended and another’s started) followed by... well, nothing. did she need more? is she not two for two in shitty outcomes? is it not tantamount to the mess her mother left behind already? three broken hearts, two broken homes, and one mind-bogglingly corroded daughter? yeah, she’s not trying to top that.
instead, suran sates the pathetic, quivering thing inside her with something else. raw, like a nerve, the thing we speak of is omnipresent, yanks at her hair and prickles the tips of her fingers. it presents itself at night as a crushing pressure on the sternum, a crawling up the spine that seeps into bone, a hollowed out crater in the crux of her hearth. it? it. loneliness. neediness. desolation. does a monster really need a name?
whatever it is, when it gets to be too much, she’s thankful for the likes of bang jaehoon.
it’s nothing special. the arrangement itself is purely for the sake of fiction. he, who needs some type of inspiration for his latest so and so (suran honestly didn’t hear a word past help and i’ll pay.) and she, who craves the occasional palliative touch in misplaced and utterly fabricated affection to quell her unease.
so, here she stands today. myo suran, girlfriend for hire. kinda.
to her credit, she’s dressed according to part. like a freak, jaehoon had specifically detailed what his “type” entailed, from hairstyle down to the type of socks to pair with her shoes. all of which is the best ensemble she could put together based on the reference pictures he sent her prior. like i said, he’s a freak. but all of that prep is naught, if he doesn’t show up in the first place. and suran stands in front of the cafe a vision, like some sort of too pretty to be a piano teacher or a untainted demure sheltered flower or mother fucking lizzy bennet like he wanted. albeit, one with an unlit cig tucked in her frowning mouth.
he’s late. men.
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Addict (Teen!Richie Tozier x Reader)
Warnings: drug use/abuse (cigarettes, alcohol, weed), mentions of dead parents + drug overdoses, mentions of rape (not in detail), religious themes (Christianity), angst, violent outbursts, swearing, cute and caring Richie Tozier
Aged up to 17 !!!
Based off the song Using by Sorority Noise
A/N: I needed to write this because I’ve been grappling with nicotine withdrawal and writing is the one way that I can really release this energy. I’m sorry if this offends anyone in anyway. I just really needed an outlet, especially while I’m stuck at home during this quarantine. This is my longest one yet, so I hope you guys enjoy it.
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The moment (Y/N) took a puff of Beverly’s cigarette for the first time, she was hooked. It was nice to have something to hold onto, something to fall back on when everything felt like it was going to shit. After her first cigarette, she asked Bev to get her smokes whenever she was getting herself some because (Y/N) didn’t have the balls to flirt with that creep like Beverly did. She couldn’t just waltz up to Mr. Keene and say that she was getting them for her parents because she didn’t have any parents to get them for. She lived with her aunt and uncle, and everyone knew that they were the most Christian, drug repelling household in all of Derry. They would berate her friends if they walked into the house smelling even faintly of alcohol, weed, or cigarettes, especially if it was Richie. Richie smoked weed all the time but always had to change before he went to pick up (Y/N); however, that didn’t stop him from having a natural drug scent. They had been best friends the majority of their lives, ever since she had moved in next door when they were 7. Her aunt and uncle loved him, loved the way he handled her and helped her through life if she needed it, but they despised the fact that he did drugs. What they didn’t know, was that she did them with him.
Richie would sneak into her room, usually at 1am, and would drag her out of bed to go on walks with him. These walks consisted of smoking cigs or weed, occasionally getting drunk off of a bottle of wine. Richie introduced her to alcohol, and it was something else she started to rely on. Richie noticed how bad she was getting after that. She would go to parties just for the sake of getting drunk, and Richie started to worry every time she got too drunk. Something else that was worrying him was how quickly she finished a pack of cigarettes. Bev would get her a pack, and she’d finish it within a day or two. (Y/N) was a chain smoker; it was very hard to catch her without a cigarette in her mouth. The only time she didn’t smoke was when she was within a 100 feet of her house or inside it, but once she couldn’t see it anymore when they were walking to school or to hang out with the losers, she would light up cigarette after cigarette. Richie tried multiple times to talk to her about it, but she just shrugged it off, saying that it wasn’t as big of a problem as he said it was.
“I don’t smoke all that often,” she would say defensively. “Fucking, come on, Rich. You smoke, too.” She rolled her eyes at him whenever he brought it up. He did his best to talk to Bev, but she would just shrug her shoulders.
“I only buy her one pack a week,” Bev said, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s not my fault she smokes it so fast.”
“You need to stop buying her cigarettes,” Richie whispered back, seeing that (Y/N) was walking towards them. “She’s getting bad, and she’s going to keep abusing it unless you stop supplying.” Beverly sighed, smiling at her best friend as she stopped in front of them, wrapping her in a hug. (Y/N) handed Bev a $10 as she pulled away, asking her to get her the “usual.” Richie knocked into Bev’s shoulder, her glaring at him as he went around to (Y/N). He wrapped my around her waist and she smiled up at him. They’d always been touchy; it wasn’t something that bothered them. They were both touch starved growing up, and they needed that person that would give them that physical attention. It just so happened that they had found each other.
“Don’t...don’t you think you should try smoking weed a bit more,” Bev asked, trying to persuade (Y/N) away from the nicotine. “It’s better for your lungs, anyways. I-I mean not completely, but at least it’s not all nicotine and chemicals and shit.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, pushing away from Richie because she knew he was behind her questioning.
“I’m fine,” (Y/N) said, kicking her feet along the pavement. “I’m already a few years in anyway. I might as well keep smoking. Besides, you smoke, too. Don’t be a hypocrite, Bevvy.” She shrugged her shoulders, pulling her backpack straps up higher. “Hey! Did you guys hear about Greta’s party tonight? I think I’m gonna go.” Richie gulped, moving swiftly towards the girl and wrapping her in his arms again.
“I’ll-I’ll go with you,” he mumbled, rubbing his hand down her arm. She shrugged looking over at Bev. Bev shook her head and held her hand out.
“Ben wanted to have a movie night,” she answered simply. “Maybe Eds and Stanley will go with you guys.”
“No,” (Y/N) shook her head, “Bill and Mike might though.” She thumped Richie’s head with her pointer finger, a few of his curls shaking from the impact. “We should invite them to the quarry.” Richie shook his head rapidly, which caused Bev to raise her eyebrows.
“Why can’t they come to the quarry,” she asked suggestively as she stuffed the $10 bill into her back pocket. Richie stammered, looking at (Y/N) for help.
“It’s kind of our thing,” (Y/N) said. She freed herself from Richie’s death hold, booping his nose when he frowned. “We go and get high most days. Sometimes we just talk. It’s our time. It’s personal.” She looked over at Richie, who was staring at her with a small smile. “I’m sorry I even suggested it.” She whispered the apology to him, and he nodded, looking over at Bev.
“We’ll see you at the usual time Monday night,” he asked, throwing up finger guns. The Losers usually met at the clubhouse on Mondays and Thursdays. They didn’t have a lot of classes together anymore, so that was their time to catch up and just talk. She nodded back at them, shooting back finger guns, laughing as she ran off to meet Ben at the bike rack. Richie unwrapped his arm from (Y/N)‘s shoulder, reaching his bent elbow out to her with a dramatic bow. She laughed, wrapping her hands in the crook of his elbow and they walked off the quarry.
“Are you sure you want to come to the party with me tonight,” the girl asked. Richie shrugged, looking down at her as they crossed over the rickety Kissing Bridge, ducking under a few trees to get out to the sandy, faux beach that was the quarry. They sat down on the big rock wall, and (Y/N) sighed in content when the sun hit her face. Richie laughed at her, taking his backpack off and sitting down next to her. “You never answered my question.” Richie furrowed his eyebrows at her as he turned his head to look at her.
“What question?” He knew exactly what question; he was just trying to avoid it. In all honesty, he hated going to parties with (Y/N). She always got wasted and left him by himself, and yeah, he liked to drink, but not by himself and not while babysitting his best friend.
“Do you have a problem accompanying me to Greta’s later?” Richie looked over at her, sighing before moving to lay on his side and prop himself on his elbow to look down at her.
“I hate going to parties,” Richie said calmly. “Especially with you, and it’s not because I don’t like you anymore or anything. It’s just...” he thought for a moment, “I’m tired of you walking off and getting wasted and I have to clean you up.” (Y/N) scoffed at him, sitting up as she scooted off the rock. “Don’t get upset. I have the right to hate when you get drunk!” (Y/N) sniffled, tears threatening to fall.
“You know parties are the only time I can let loose,” she responded, her voice getting caught in her throat. “I get wasted because it’s fun, Rich. I never asked you to be my babysitter.” Richie stood up, throwing his arms up in the air.
“You get wasted every single weekend,” he yelled, causing her to flinch slightly. She could tell he was getting pissed off, and she hated when he got angry. He became a bitch, and it wasn’t something that she wanted to see. She made him mad once when they were 14 and he didn’t speak to her for weeks; this was all over her missing one of their quarry meetings because she promised Bev she’d help her dye her hair. “I have to babysit you cause no one else will! No one cares enough, not even you! You’re always getting drunk and it pisses me off. I hate seeing you risk yourself to cirrhosis because of how much you drink!”
“Richie, I’m in perfectly good health!” (Y/N) grabbed her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder. “How much I smoke and how wasted I get doesn’t fucking concern you.”
“Yes, it does,” he said angrily, jabbing his finger at her. “It concerns me because you’re all I have. You’re the only person that I know will be there forever and you...you’re killing yourself! At this rate, you’re gonna get lung or liver cancer before you’re 35! Hell, maybe fucking both!” She tried to walk away, but he grabbed her arm. “I’m not done. I love you, (Y/N), okay? I-I’ve loved you forever and-“ (Y/N) ripped her arm away from him, looking him up and down with tears streaming down her face.
“If you loved me, you’d let me do what I want to do ,” she spat at him. She could feel the tears streaming down her face, soaking her shirt collar. Actually, it wasn’t her shirt at all. It was one of Richie’s shirts that she’d stolen and cropped, but it didn’t matter anymore. She thought about it for a second, looking down at the band that was on it: The Cure. She sighed, looking back up Richie who was grabbing his backpack, too. “I’m going to ask Bill to come with me, instead. Show up if you want, but don’t try confessing your love for me unless you’ll let me be me.”
“Darling, come on,” Richie said, the high pitched nature of his voice scaring him. “Don’t do this. If you don’t love me, just say it.” (Y/N) turned away from him, taking in a deep breath.
“I never said I didn’t love you back,” she whispered. “Just don’t tell me what to do and then think I’m gonna kiss you and throw away every other thing I love to make you happy.” She started walking up the steep hill that separated the quarry from the street. “I’ll see you Monday.” Richie watched as she walked away, and he followed her. He tried to catch up with her but she ran off, too fast for him to catch. He sighed, banging his fist on the splintering wood of the Kissing Bridge.
“Fuck,” he screamed as he started punching the shit out of the bridge, splintering his knuckles and making them bleed.
———————————
(Y/N) got to her house, slamming the door shut and marching over the phone. She had all of the Losers’ numbers memorized, so she quickly dialed Bill. Mrs. Denbrough picked up, and they had a conversation about school as she waited for her son to come down and grab the phone. Mrs. Denbrough said a quick farewell as Bill slipped onto the phone.
“H-hey,” he said and (Y/N) could practically hear the smile in his voice. The two didn’t hang out all too often anymore; they were honestly the most distant out of the group, but that didn’t stop them from loving one another unconditionally. “Do you n-need something?” (Y/N) laughed, rolling her eyes.
“Wanna go to Greta’s with me,” she asked as she twirled the phone cord. “Richie’s being a dick and he’s decided that he doesn’t like getting wasted with me anymore.” She heard Bill sigh and let out a small chuckle.
“W-what time does it st-start? I have b-baseball practice in the m-mor-morning.” (Y/N) sighed, scuffing her shoes against the wooden floor of her uncle’s house as she thought. She shrugged as if he could see her.
“I don’t know. 8ish? But I can always ask Eddie,” she said, taking on a reassuring tone. She hated taking Eds to parties but loved it all the same. It was very difficult to get him to let loose, but when he did, he was the life of the party. “Actually, don’t worry about it. You focus on baseball. Love you, Billy.”
“L-love you, too, (Y/N).” The line went dead and (Y/N) started to dial in Eddie’s phone number. She was prepared for Sonia, since she barely let Eddie touch the phone, and was pleasantly surprised when she heard Eddie’s voice saying a soft greeting.
“Eds! You’ve got to come to Greta’s with me,” (Y/N) yelled. “Pretty please?” She did a pouty lip, more to allow Eddie to hear the desperation in her voice. She heard him sigh, and the sigh felt as if it was in remorse.
“I-I’d love to, but...why can’t you just go with Richie? Trouble in paradise,” he asked mockingly. “Listen, I’ll come by and we’ll talk, and if after we talk you still want to get wasted, we’ll go.” (Y/N) scoffed.
“There is no paradise to have trouble in,” she said defensively. “Besides, the conversation will all be done in vain, Kaspbrak. I always want to get wasted.” Eddie laughed on the other side of the phone, shaking his head.
“Fine. I’ll be over in like 45 minutes so you can get ready for the party with company.” Eddie regretted telling her that the moment he did. He didn’t want (Y/N) to drink anymore, but he wanted her to be happy. Maybe he could convince her to drink a little less tonight and not blackout like she normally did.
“Okay, Eds,” she replied sweetly. “Door will be unlocked, so just walk in. I’ll probably be in my room.” He made a noise in response and then the line went dead. (Y/N) sighed, walking up to her room. She looked out her window and noticed Richie’s blinds were close, so she closed hers as well.
——————————-
“Richard, you have to watch what you punch,” Maggie said to him sternly, taking the set of tweezers back to his knuckles to pull out the last few splinters. “I know you were upset, but you don’t have to punch things. Don’t worry, she’ll come around.” Richie scoffed and rolled his eyes, his mother lightly bopping his head to the side when he did. “Go wash off your hand and we’ll bandage it.” She ushered him to stand up, pushing him lightly over to the kitchen sink as she went to the bathroom done the hall for bandages. He sighed, taking the hand soap and putting it on his left hand, rubbing the soapy water over his blood covered right hand. The soap made him cringe, it stinging his cuts a bit. He finished washing it, taking a paper towel and dabbing them to dry them off. Maggie came back with the bandages, going over the him and wrapping them around his knuckles. She secured the antiseptic wrap, giving him a soft kiss on the hand.
“I think I’m going to go to a party tonight,” Richie said softly. “(Y/N)’s mad at me and I-I don’t want her to get too drunk.” Maggie nodded, waving for him to follow her in the living room. They say on the cough and Richie tucked his legs underneath him, feeling his mom’s head on his shoulder.
“Just don’t do anything stupid,” she said, sitting up and kissing his temple. “I’m going to go get things for dinner. Do you need anything?” Richie shrugged.
“More Gatorade?” Richie drank Gatorades all the time. They were packed with sugar and sodium; however, they miraculously calmed him down and made him sit still for once. He looked up at his mom with a small smile on his face, and she pinched his cheeks. She nodded, grabbing her jacket and purse from the coat hanger. She checked her purse for her keys, and she opened the door, ready to leave. “The blue ones!”
“I know, honey,” she replied softly. “I love you.” She walked out the door before Richie had the chance to say it back, but he would’ve been cut off my the phone ringing anyway.
“Hello,” he said, expecting (Y/N) on the line.
“Hey, Rich.” He sighed, disappointed. It was Eddie. “What happened between you and (Y/N)?” He furrowed his brows. She asked Eds to go with him? Damn, she really didn’t want him there.
“She’s pissed I don’t support her chain smoking and excessive alcohol consumption,” Richie replied flatly. “Did she ask you to go with her?” He could practically hear Eddie, nodding a soft sniffle coming from his end.
“Yeah, I’m leaving in a few minutes to help her get ready for the party. You should show up, let her know you still care.” Richie tapped his fingers against the phone, no doubt causing a hollow sound to go through to Eddie’s side.
“I was going to,” Richie said sarcastically. “I also, might’ve, sorta confessed my feelings to her as she was screaming at me to “not control her”, so I need to make up for that.”
“Jesus, fuck, Rich,” Eddie mumbled on the other end. “We’ll talk more tonight. I’ve gotta get to your girlfriend’s house. See you later.”
“She’s not-“ The line went dead before Richie finished. He sighed. “-my girlfriend.” He hung the phone up, marching up to his room to see that there was little light coming in. He shrugged, thinking his mom must’ve dusted the blinds. He opened up his curtain, bringing the blinds up to see that (Y/N)’s were closed. Richie rubbed his hand across his face. They always left their blinds open, no matter how mad they were at one another. She must’ve been pissed.
——————————
Eddie walked into (Y/N)’s house, and he marched up the stairs. He saw that her door was slightly ajar and she was laying out outfits on her bed. He walked in, her hand waving him over.
“Light blue dress with my white Converses or black jeans and one of Richie’s cropped shirts with Docs?” She looked up at him to see him biting his lip, tilting his head to the side to closely examine the outfits. He noticed a blue mark on the white cropped shirt and he pointed it out.
“Is that marker or paint? Get a different shirt you’re not wearing one with a stain on it.” Eddie walked to the closet when she did, looking at all the shirts she had. He noticed a faded olive green top with bell sleeves and he took it down from the rack. “I think this one with the jeans and the white Converses.” He shoved it at her. (Y/N) looked at it, nodding before taking off her shirt and throwing it into her hamper. She slipped the shirt on, going back out into her room to put on the jeans. Once she slipped on the jeans, Eddie looked at her with his head tilted side ways.
“Why are you looking at me like that,” she said, furrowing her eyebrows and frantically looking at her self in her body length mirror.
“Tuck in the front, fix your hair, put on some mascara and lip gloss,” he said bluntly. Eddie ended it with smile and (Y/N) went over and ruffled his hair.
“Thanks for being blunt, love,” she sighed. She dramatically rolled her head around on your neck and sat down at the bench in front of her vanity. “Love my quintessential gay best friend.” She laughed and Eddie rolled his eyes.
“I’m not gay, you bitch,” Eddie said, sitting down on her bed. “But I am pretty sure that you should try to make things better with Richie again. I called him earlier and he was a little bit of a mess. He sounded like he was in pain, I don’t know why.” (Y/N) sighed, finishing up her mascara before she turned around to look at Eddie.
“He closed his blinds, Eds,” (Y/N) shrieked. When Eddie just looked at her weird she sighed. “It means he’s pissed. We never close blinds without talking about it first.” Eddie snickered and (Y/N) shot him a death glare.
“Love birds,” he said, making it sound like a song. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, turning back to her mirror to tussle her hair and make it lay flatter on her shoulders. After a few seconds of changing its position, she sighed and walked over to her desk to grab a hair tie. As she put her hair into a bun, Eddie started talking to her again. “He’s not pissed at you. He’s pissed at what you do. There’s a difference.” (Y/N) scoffed.
“I can do what I want Eds and he just needs to realize it.” She pulled some baby hairs out of the front of her bun, watching as they framed her face and blew from the slight breeze her fan was giving her. “We should eat before. You wanna go to the pizza shop in town for dinner?” Eddie shrugged and thought before shaking his head ‘no.’
“Let’s go to the diner,” Eddie said. “We can at least get healthier food there to combat all the alcohol you’re going to drink tonight.” (Y/N) slipped on her shoes and threw the bird up at Eddie, causing him to laugh. “And don’t forget your lip gloss.” She shoved him out the door, grabbing her purse and shutting her bedroom door behind them.
—————————
After the diner, they walked over the Greta’s and all (Y/N) had in mind was beer. She wondered if Greta had gotten the good kind this time, the craft beer that came from a local brewery in Bangor, or if she got the shitty beer from the grocery store in town. (Y/N) also thought about Richie. He confessed his love to her, which was horrifying enough. She always tried to push her feelings of him away because she knew that they’d got unrequited, but she was quite wrong. He told her he was in love with her, and it made her regret walking away from him. But she wanted to get drunk and he didn’t understand that. Eddie talked her through it at dinner and revealed Richie was going to apologize at the party, or so that’s why it seemed like he was going to do when Eddie called him earlier.
“He isn’t mad at you, babe,” Eddie had said. “He’s mad at himself for letting your alcohol and drug issues get this bad.” (Y/N) didn’t think they were bad. Sure, she smoked too much and got high too often, but she didn’t get drunk more than once or twice a month, tops. She shook her head, looking down at the streets, which were now illuminated with the orange glow of the street lights.
“I’ll be okay,” (Y/N) said slightly above a whisper. She said it more to her self than Eddie, but she looked up to see his eyebrows raised and a major side eye. (Y/N) grabbed his hand, dragging him down the street, causing him to fumble with his fanny pack to make sure the zipper was closed so that nothing would fall out. When they got to the Keene household, there were a few cars already parked out front and they could hear music coming from inside. (Y/N) jumped up and down slightly with a little squeal and Eddie rolled his eyes, smiling slightly at his best friend. They walked into the house and Greta greeted them, pursing her lips together and turning around when she saw who it was. Greta liked (Y/N), but she knew that with (Y/N) came Eddie, the Trashmouth, and the rest of their nerdy friends. They didn’t ruin the parties, though. In fact, their drunk asses made them more fun, so it was whatever. (Y/N) made a b-line towards the kitchen, smiling when she saw vodka and whiskey as an option, too. She grabbed a cup, pouring and taking three shots of vodka while Eddie watched awkwardly from the side, tapping his fingers on the granite counter.
“You drinking already,” said a deep voice from behind them. (Y/N) turned around to see Ryan, a kid who was in her science class. He was the second best baseball player on the high school’s team, trailing behind Bill who already had 7 scholarships as a junior. Ryan had 4 and was extremely popular. (Y/N) smirked a little, shrugging her shoulders as she looked at Eddie and raised her eyebrows a few times. She grabbed a beer from the cooler, the good kind, and opened it with the ring in her finger.
“It’s a party, what else am I supposed to do,” she replied with a hint of over sweetness in her voice. Eddie noticed and smiled dramatically at Ryan before dragging the girl away from him and out into the backyard, where people were smoking weed and jumping into the pool. “Eds!” (Y/N) whined as she looked back into the house through the big windows, seeing Ryan grabbing a red SOLO cup and pouring whiskey into it.
“We should wait for Richie somewhere by ourselves,” Eddie replied, dragging her over to a bench swing that Greta had in her backyard. “We’ll just sit here and wait.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, standing up and going back to the house. Eddie quickly got up, tripping as the bench swung back and made him slip on the grass. When he caught up to her, she was talking with Ryan in the living room. The party had gotten exceptionally more crowded in such a short amount of time, and he stood on his tiptoes to look over the crowd and at the front door for Richie. When his eyes met the closed door, he sighed and walked over to the kitchen, grabbing himself a SOLO cup. He looked at the drinks, ultimately deciding he’d make something (Y/N/N) taught him: a Cape Cod. He poured about three shots of vodka into the cup and then topped it off with cranberry juice. Eddie took a sip of it, grimacing when he tasted how strong the vodka was. As he poured more cranberry juice in, he heard heavy footsteps coming into the kitchen.
“‘Sup Eds,” Richie said softly, clapping his hand on his shoulder. “Why’s (Y/N/N) not with you?” Eddie took another sip of his drink and pointed out towards the living room, seeing the jock she was with heads over everyone else. Richie followed Eddie’s eyes and cursed under his breath. “I-I’m gonna go talk to her.” Richie shoved through the crowd, making his way towards the two. He appeared behind Ryan, causing your too furrow your eyebrows as Ryan yelled over the music about college or drugs or something. You tapped Ryan’s shoulder and pointed to the kitchen, silently letting him know you were “getting another drink.” You looked at Richie disdainfully and sighed when you heard his footsteps following you. Eddie smiled at you, glad to see you were okay.
“What the fuck, Rich,” you yelled, stomping your foot on the ground. “I thought I told you to leave me be.” He reached out to grab your arm, but you yanked it away, taking a long swing of your beer and finishing it off. You abandoned it on the counter, walking around Eds to get a SOLO cup.
“What happened to the one you had literally half an hour ago?” Eddie asked, scoffing as you shrugged at opened the green apple flavored Smirnoff that caught your eye. Richie took it right out of your hand, capping it and holding it above your head.
“No more.” He grabbed your hand, sticking the bottle back on the counter behind you as he dragged you out of the kitchen.
“Richie I’ve barely had anything,” you whined, stumbling over your feet as you got pulled into the hallway that lead to the front door. Eddie followed close behind, taking tiny sips of his drink as he helped Richie push you out of the house. “What the fuck! You guys are no fun.” You crossed your arms, allowing Richie to shove you into the passenger’s seat of his beat up Buick Regal. Eddie hopped in the back. When Richie got into the driver’s seat, you smacked his arm out of rage, tears welling up in your eyes. He started the car and pulled off the street, taking a few turns to get to Eddie’s house.
“If you need help with her, call me,” Eddie said quietly to Richie before reaching around front and giving (Y/N) a kiss on the forehead. “I love you, (Y/N/N).” You sighed in response, squishing yourself into a ball and moving closer to the window. He quickly got out of the car, closing the door and running up to his house. Richie drove up into the intersection, making a left and heading towards where Mike lived, to the farmland.
“Home’s right, dumbass,” you spat softly, rolling your eyes as he kept straight ahead. You looked down at his hands on the wheels, and through the dim streetlights, you could see that his hands were extremely white and wrapped in bandages. Usually, they had a pinkish tone to them, but all traces of that were gone. The bandages were stained a little with blood, so you figured he punched the shit out of some wall. He was mad. Richie was angrier than you had ever seen him, and you hadn’t even looked at his face yet. Tears stung your eyes when you saw the familiar dip in the trees that lead down into the quarry. He parked his car right at the top of the hill, getting out without a word. You got out, too, following him down into the quarry. When you got there, you saw him sit down on the rock and put his head in his hands. You came and sat next to him, folding in on yourself by wrapping your hands around your knees which were pulled up to your chest.
“I told you I didn’t want you to go to that party,” Richie whispered. He ran his hands up into his hair, the curls falling over his forehead when he violently slammed his hands down on his lap. He looked over at you, a scowl on his face and tears in his eyes. “That guy was going to get you drunk and fuck you. He was going to fuck you, and you were going to let him.”
“Richie, I would’ve said no,” you said defensively. “One, my standards aren’t that low, and two, I wouldn’t want him to touch me while I was sob-“ Richie scoffed, shaking his head.
“You were on your way to being wasted as soon as I got there, darling.” He stood up, kicking the small rocks that lines the big boulders. “He was going to rape you. I could see it.” You looked down at your hands without answering, feeling tears well up in your eyes. “You can’t ever go to party without me again. I have to protect you.” You started crying, sobs racking your body as you wiped your eyes in your sleeves.
“Says the one who told me he didn’t care what I did not even 6 hours ago,” you yelled, pointing at him as tears continued to fall down your face. “You’re a piece of shit! Ya know that, Richie? You want to help people, but then you just trample over everything they love, including people.” Richie furrowed his eyebrows, confused at the end of her statement.
“People? I’ve never purposely hurt someone in my whole li-“ (Y/N) pointed to his knuckles.
“What did you do?” (Y/N) asked, sniffling as she tried to calm herself down. “You punched the shit out of something, I can tell that much. I just don’t want you hurt.” Richie sighed, sitting down next to the girl who looked so small compared to the rocks and big trees behind her that were faintly highlighted by the moonlight.
“Now you understand,” Richie responded calmly. “I don’t want you hurt. Drinking hurts you. Smoking hurts you.”
“You know why I do it,” (Y/N) interrupted. “It makes me forget, drinking especially. I hate thinking of them so much. They’ve been gone for years, but I can’t stop thinking about them. So, I try to destroy my mind enough to forget for a little while.” Richie hesitantly put an arm around her, and when she melted into him, he pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head.
“I don’t understand that,” Richie answered. “But I can tell you that drinking and smoking is just going to get you closer to where they were. They were so addicted they died, babe. Died.” He shoved his face into your hair, sniffling as he held you super tight for a few seconds while he paused. When he pulled away, he brought one of his hands up to your cheek. “I-I can’t have you dying on me.” You looked up at Richie, tears falling down his face as he stared into your eyes. You leant up closer to him, bringing his face down to yours and kissing him on the lips. He was taken by surprise and pulled away immediately, a confused expression on his face.
“A-are you okay,” you questioned. “I shouldn’t have kissed you, I’m sorry. You just...earlier you told me that you loved me and I love you too and I thought I’d kiss you because-because this is a meaningful moment and-“ Richie planted his lips back into yours, causing you to melt into him. After a few seconds, he pulled away and rubbed his thumb over your cheekbone as he smiled at you.
“I love you too much to lose you,” he said softly. “I-I don’t care you smoke or drink...just-just don’t get excessive, okay? That’s my worst fear, honestly, you becoming an alcoholic or dying of lung cancer.” You snickered a little, Richie look at you in confusion.
“I’ll take it easier, ya goof.” You wrapped your arms around his torso and you stuffed your face in his neck. “Whenever I go to a party, I’ll make sure you protect me from all of the big, scary guys.” Richie laughed at that, and he ended up having to pull away to catch his breath.
“I’ll do my best, princess,” he said back, his laughing fit still leaving his body. “I will definitely do my best.”
#it imagines#richie tozier smut#richie tozier#richie tozier headcanons#richie tozier x reader#bill denbrough#stanley uris#eddie kaspbrak#beverly marsh#ben hanscom#mike hanlon#masterlist
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emerges frm a field of corn slinking in w a faux mink shrug dangling around my elbows n a strand of wheat between my teeth..... farmer eleganza.... hlo! my name’s nai. i am bt a humble ghoul arrived to haunt ur home. 23 n she/her pronouns n i live in manchester. fun fact my friend’s neighbour used to b harry styles PE teacher. i played delilah yrs ago as carlson young (n even cara delevingne at one point what the fk) which feels so weird n ancient to me nw bt i missed her a lot so decided to spruce her bk to life.... ANYWAY delilah’s pinterest is here n i’ll jst leap right into things without further ado
(NICOLA PELTZ, CIS-FEMALE) - Have you seen DELILAH ASTOR? LILAH is in HER JUNIOR year. The POLITICAL SCIENCE MAJOR is 21 years old & is a CAPRICORN. People say SHE is BEGUILING, BLUNT, CUNNING and APATHETIC. Rumors say they’re a member of CALLOWAY. I heard from the gossip blog that SHE WAS IN A REHABILITATION CENTRE IN SWITZERLAND INSTEAD OF DOING CHARITY WORK LIKE HER SOCIAL MEDIA CLAIMED. (NAI. 23. GMT. SHE/HER.)
HISTORY
their family is kind of modelled off the sedgwick family like old money n pretty dysfunctional bt all abt keeping up a seamless facade of perfection... with a pinch of the kennedy’s in there. her dad’s high up in politics n his dad before tht ws in politics n it’s just a long prestigious line of clones in expensive suits as far as delilah’s concerned. her dad i picture as like.... nate archibald’s grandfather in gossip girl.... personality wise.
for as long as she cn remember she’s found this cookie cutter white picket fence life boring. stifling. to delilah it’s like being hemmed in a stuffy room n forbidden frm opening a window. it’s all vry Rich People Problems i wnt lie bt <3 she feels everlastingly bored. All The Time. plus her family hs always been a focal point fr tabloids etc which doesn’t help this feeling of not rly Living but just being the focus of a spectator sport. they’re lowkey a bit of a household name so they get a bunch of scrutiny n......... well. new bullet point alert! cue a powerpoint transition
(self harm & depression tw) frm being young delilah always knew there ws sort of. a white noise inside her where everyone else saw a technicolour movie screen. it rly hit her at like 12 i’d say as she was jst coasting towards adolescence. it ws pretty obvious frm her behaviour i’d say bt her parents only became Aware it ws a problem when she stuck a fork into a socket n short circuited the power in the house. she got shocked unconscious n when she woke up she told the in house dr they’d called (to keep it under wraps frm outsiders) tht she just.... couldn’t feel anything. she’d been reading frankenstein (she’s always liked gothic literature) n thought it’d zap her to life like the monster
her parents got her on medication n figured that wld fix everything. they didn’t like to talk abt things and that was that. it wasn’t to be mentioned again
delilah’s parents r just very.... sterile. family is abt appearances. they’ll be all smiles n flowing conversation when ppl are around bt it feels like being an actress n reading frm a script. being a toy in a dollhouse
she had two siblings: an older sister named clara & a younger brother named elijah. clara ws always like.... the Dream daughter. did everything right. amazing grades. america’s sweetheart. LOVED by the press. did sm charity work. elijah was fine/kind of a slacker compared bt coasted by on athletic prowess (captain of the rowing team). delilah hs very much always been the anomaly in this idyllic line-up. middle child effect! altho having said tht she’s always ran w the popular crowd of her age group bc Rich + Pretty = Status. it’s all quite superficial n delilah’s attitude on the matter can b summed up w this photoset. having said tht there was Some merit in constantly being paraded around as “such a pretty thing” bc a few modelling agencies attempted to scout her bt delilah found that boring. she wants to b called brilliant not beautiful. her mother called this her “not playing to the advantages that god gave her”. with a tight-lipped smile and a “god forbid i use my brain”, delilah only disappointed her further <3
(drugs & ed tw) delilah gt pretty heavy into partying fr the sake of trying to Feel something. intense on the drugs front (coke n prescription pills). rarely eating. she got a silver broach of a swan tht she pins to most of her clothes n u can unscrew the swan’s neck n pull it out to reveal a little powder spoon. still wears this today. clara n delilah were always super close n clara wld cover fr her a bunch. making up lies n jst having her back to their parents if they ever asked where she was / she ws in trouble n needed to keep it under wraps. when delilah hd an article in a tabloid pretty mch like this one clara talked their parents dwn frm sending her to a rehabilitation centre in switzerland. they gt it pretty much scorched frm existence bt delilah kept a clipping bc honestly she thought it was funny hw pale her mother went abt it
(car accident & drunk driving & death tw) at a fancy benefit the astors were all attending among 4857925974 uppity families delilah wound up heading off w some of the rich kids n one thing lead to another n a couple of them gt arrested fr a coke scandal. delilah used her phone call to contact clara n fr once clara hd let loose a little n hd something to drink bt still drove to the station to bail delilah out n try n fix her mess bt.... skipped a red light n crashed. she died upon impact.
(hospitalisation & drugs & addiction tw) this made delilah spiral massively obviously.... she clung on by the skin of her teeth fr a while bt she rly was just getting quite out of control doing an extremely excessive amt of coke to get by at this point so her parents actually did.... end up shipping her off to switzerland for rehabilitation. they didn’t tell anyone this tho n as far as ppl were/are aware she was doing charity work with habitat for humanity in trinidad. her parents literally........... hired ppl to take photos of things there n a social media team posted them to her instagram account jst. the most elaborate lie.... it’s a lot.
delilah jst pretty much went along w whatever they said at the facility bt didn’t absorb any of it too much.... she did get sober there bt it was vry much bc she had no other choice rather than a want to......... she even pretended to “find god” while she ws there n memorised bible lines to recite w a coolly detached smile. in her head she ws probably thinking abt hw her mandated therapist cld gladly eat shit and she’d be happy to watch. it was just like.... everyone there was RLY hideously overpaid bt did they actually Care abt their work or patients? debatable. wasn’t the most healing experience thru delilah’s eyes bt... maybe it’d work better if she’d actually opened her mind to it bt anyway...... <3 cornelius fudge voice: she’s back. the dark lord.....
PERSONALITY:
nw tht her history is out of the way i’ll leap like a flea off a shaggy dog’s back into personality! aesthetically she almost ALWAYS wears white/cream. reminds me of the woman in white frm sharp objects. rarely she’ll dabble in silver or gold or like..... vry pale green bt.... always muted tones. usually white or cream. big white sunhats. white sunglasses. white pussybow blouses w a little white skirt n a pearl barrette in her hair. she even smokes white sobranie cigs tht r imports like it’s a lot she’s truly committed to the aesthetic.... paired w like. classic patent mary janes.... she tends to flutter around the place like a silk moth. likes lace too. hs a very put together image n even demeanour like she’s very lithe n graceful n drifts like a ghost which kind of contrasts w... who she is at her core bt in the astor family it’s all abt appearances <3 the only deviation from this is she sometimes wears dark blue mascara once in a blue moon n if ppl comment on this she’s like. idk what ur talking abt? glides away like a ghost in a haunted mansion n is never seen again.
very perceptive. incredibly observant. yrs of early life media training n being born frm politicians means she’s an excellent liar. she knows ppl n knows what makes them tick bt she’ll only use this when necessary. she isn’t a terrible person bt she knows how to b Very mean n will equip this as a weapon shd a situation call fr it. also more prone to lashing out since her sister......... she hs sometimes played chess games socially fr kicks
dark n biting sense of humour. rather frank abt things. VERY ruthless when scorned bt she isn’t particularly?? emotive abt it??? her bf cheated on her once n when he told her she slapped him rly hard in front of sm ppl he knew n then jst walked away. blocked him on literally everything. removed him frm the face of the earth as far as she ws concerned. had him blacklisted frm every event n told ppl they’d be cut too if they continued to associate w him. goodbye sir <3 u are the weakest link <3 needless to say he regretted it <3
very loyal to u until she isn’t. finds it very easy to cut ties if need be. once her trust is broken it is gooooone baby goone.... the trust is Gone. selective in who she cares abt
vry cavalier abt sex. she doesn’t sleep around hugely i dnt think??? bt when she does it isn’t often tht emotionally invested she’ll jst out of the blue very nonchalantly blow out a wisp of smoke n b like. so u want to fuck me then? cool. proceeds to get up as if she’s walking to leave n then looks bk n is like what do ur legs not work? follow me. n leads them somewhere
nothing rly.... moves her particularly. she isn’t very animated. it’s like she jst finds the entire world thoroughly unimpressive. it’s difficult to stimulate excitement from her. it’s like that hugh laurie quote where he realised he had depression bc “boredom is not an appropriate response to exploding cars”.
has a pet swan bk at home she’s named lilith inspired by satan’s offspring. lilith bites ppl if they get close n is honestly an abomination of a bird. delilah finds her funny n throws her bits of croissants sometimes bt even she isn’t immune to her pecks. in some ways they’re similar...... hv a graceful surface appearance / aesthetic bt a darker attitude beneath the surface
WANTED CONNECTIONS:
exes: the ex bf tht cheated on her n she got blacklisted from 94872347 social events cld be a fun thing to explore..... delilah wld be EXTREMELY cold towards him n honestly want him dead. wouldn’t show any shred of caring abt him at all she’s very gd at stoning her emotions n keeping them inside. hasn’t cried since her sister died as an example of how..... withdrawn she is from confessing her innermost thoughts n desires. maybe an ex bf before tht that she rly didn’t take seriously at all..... typically she just isn’t interested/invested in romance she’s vry apathetic abt it all
party friends: those tht run in similar rich kid circles tht she would have smuggled off with at fancy events so they could let loose.......... ppl tht r completely her opposite who she finds interesting bc they represent everything she always wanted outside the oppression of her strict regiment family....... mutual bad influences tht are heavy into drugs n always enable each other...... u name it!
hook-ups: she doesn’t have a HUGE amt of these bt.... maybe a select handful.... some she wld have hooked up w once n never again n just been like >_> if they implied they shd as if it was preposterous n she was thoroughly over it.... some maybe she’d find interesting enough to extend beyond tht...... none she’d invest in if she cld help it altho? maybe someone as an exception to tht rule cld be fun
friends of her sister: (death tw) clara was universally well liked for being rly sweet n well intentioned n she attended yates only two yrs delilah’s senior so she might have some connections here still somehow??? cld be angsty to work with
i won’t lie i’m rly hungry as i write up these wcs so my brain’s going blank n i’m gna have to sprint to get some toast bt <3 roommates, enemies, competitive friendships, resentments, angst, chaos, drama, strife, u name it n i am dwn!!!! hits post n takes off galloping dwnstairs
#yatesintro#drugs tw#ed tw#depression tw#death tw#grief tw#car accident tw#drunk driving tw#addiction tw#cowabunga chim chimmeny cheroo it's a tw extravaganza <3#hmu fr plots go crazy go stupid
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Etymology
et·y·mol·o·gy (n.)
The study of a word's origin.
For Sanji, coming home is easier said than done.
(Or: Let’s talk about the Vinsmoke fiasco, shall we?)
Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nakamaship, Childhood Trauma, Miscommunication (!!!), Found Family, Eventual Happy Ending
Set after Whole Cake and before Wano (in the Stampede-esque way that the gang’s all here but canon still happened). Content warning for the aftermath of (past) trauma and PTSD-like symptoms. Read Chapter 2 here.
***
“Monkey D. Luffy!”
With a resounding bang, the door to the galley is kicked open by black dress shoes. Sanji stomps out on Sunny’s lawn to find it utterly deserted: the crew is around, eight distinct presences buzzing at the periphery of his Haki, just out of sight. Above, their flag flutters softly in the wind and–
There! A tuft of black hair peeks from the window of the crow’s nest, two wide eyes glancing down and right at him before vanishing altogether. The monotonous grunting of their resident sword-wielding idiot continues unfazed, “542… 543…”, and Sanji will deal with him later.
“Oh, Captain?”
Sanji’s voice is inviting, sticky-sweet like the candies he makes for Chopper. Luffy reappears like the gullible fool he is, eyes alight with curiosity. “Sanji?”
One swift kick to the main mast – Bro, not cool! echoes from Franky’s workshop below deck – and Luffy’s grip slips. Sanji lights a cigarette and draws just as much satisfaction from the first smoke-filled breath as he does from the sight of Luffy crashing face-first into the grass. A moment later, the remnants of what used to be a Luffy-proof padlock joins its murderer on the floor, teeth marks and warped shackle and all.
“Explain.”
The order is little more than a venomous hiss and Luffy sweats bullets, mouth opening around a long uhhh with nothing to follow it. “It wasn’t me?”
Nothing worthwhile, at least.
Sanji inhales deep for the sake of his nerves, snatches the cig between index and middle finger to point it accusingly at his captain and he lets loose: “I told you lunch is in an hour”, and “It’s the third time this week”, and “An hour, you shitty–” and that’s as far as Sanji gets before his brain catches up to his words and his heart lurches against his ribs–
And why is it that Luffy’s expression goes all hopeful up until that point?
Sanji falls silent and it’s a graceless, clumsy thing, the pause afterwards. His gaze searches for the mangled lock on the ground and he sighs.
“What do you want, Luffy? I can make you another bento if you’re hungry, just… Stop breaking the locks.”
There’s only two of those left, after all, and even if they weren't at high sea and the next island was just over the horizon, there’s no way Sanji will tarnish Nami’s meticulously kept budget with that. Not when he already owes her something he doesn’t know how to repay.
“Okay, Sanji”, Luffy says, hesitates, tells him: “Your bentos are the best!” Sounding so serious, like it’s a matter of life or death for Sanji to understand what Luffy’s saying.
It’s weird is what it is. Just another thing that changed while Sanji wasn’t looking, and it chafes against the scar tissue starting to take shape inside him. What would he give to turn back time and tell Capone Bege to take that invitation and go fuck himself with it instead of–
It’s too late now. For that, and many other things.
Sanji looks anywhere but at Luffy – as if that’s ever helped anybody escape that gaze, that uncanny perceptiveness that strikes like a thief cloaked in shadows – and he scratches at his wrist. Mumbles, “Whatever”, and turns tail like the coward he is, slinking back to the only place things make sense anymore.
Luffy’s somber eyes follow him every step of the way there.
*
Despite everything, Sanji expects Luffy to tell on him.
The Sunny’s swaying pace is familiar from the moment he stepped foot on deck, enough so that Sanji let himself be rocked into tentative relaxation as Big Mom’s fleet turned into insignificant specks in the distance, then disappeared entirely. Luffy had yelled for food – voice raspy from exhaustion and whatever else he’d put himself through to get there in time, and Sanji swore himself he’d think about it later, later – and what kind of chef would Sanji be if he didn’t deliver?
His kitchen had been a right mess, spotted with drops of purple-looking somethings and the traces of a fire made hazy by a thin layer of dust. It had taken everything Sanji had left in him not to burst into tears right then and there.
Home. I’m home.
And so he cooked, and he hugged Chopper tight while the reindeer wailed incomprehensible words into his chest, and he accepted the tender pressure of hands on his back and arms swung around his shoulders and each and every soft-eyed smile gifted to him. Welcome back, some said it outright and some didn’t; Zoro’s gaze had been steady when Sanji had finally met it over the heads of the crew, warm even, and the hairline fractures in Sanji’s soul ached as they started to heal.
Even injured as he was, Luffy’s laugh was loud over it all. Love and light and everything Sanji will ever believe in, all poured into a grin only a rubber body could produce.
For a while, Sanji was fine. Not… over it, not okay by any meaning of the word but getting there, in his own way: Up by the crack of dawn and crawling back into his bunk around midnight, and the scratchiness of his covers and the comforting nothing-scent of his own pillow was enough then. Like the weeks he spent away, not-here, were a part of history so distant and unreachable only Robin would know how to recover it.
Then the new bounties dropped in his lap, quite literally, and one glance at his own shattered the rose-tinted world Sanji had just convinced himself was reality.
It hangs next to the others now, tacked between Strawhat Luffy and _God Usopp _for the first time since they all had bounties to display at all, and Sanji would be touched by being placed center stage if the letters on that poster didn’t haunt every moment he’s spent in the men’s quarters since. He doesn’t have the heart to tell Luffy to take it down, not after his captain had seen his skyrocketing bounty and practically shook out of his skin with excitement.
“A thousand people, I told you guys! About time they realize it, too. Right, Sanji?”
After the month he’s had, Sanji wouldn’t have be above giving up the All Blue itself just to hear his captain sing him praises like that but–
The name Vinsmoke was right _there, _written in ink for all the world to see, and Luffy was looking between it and him like Sanji hadn’t kneeled at his feet a mere week ago, blind with tears and begging to be allowed back home. To return to the place at his side that he had been granted in a different ocean, a different life, and that he’d thrown away.
A decision he made with little to no alternatives yet Sanji regrets it all. He regrets the bandages that persist around Luffy’s waist, spotted with pink from a wound still healing, and the worried looks on his back that wrap themselves like blocks of concrete around his ankles. Dragging him down and under, and it doesn’t matter how powerful his legs are Sanji can’t outrun this. Not this time.
Not the first time, either, but the choice there had been between a cage and a future, and even as a child Sanji knew hope was worth living for, somehow, somewhere.
He let Luffy have the poster, then, stared at the number instead of the name and got a good rise out of the moss-headed swordsman that kept his mind off it all for most of the afternoon. By the time he went to bed that night, Sanji was exhausted enough that getting to his hammock was all he could focus on.
His dreams are not as kind as his body, however.
Sanji wakes with the taste of tears on his tongue and a cacophony of childish giggling in his ears, and for the first time in years he wonders, for all of a split-second, why his head isn’t weighed down by iron.
*
The vegetables are neatly diced and the water near-boiling when–
“Whaaat?!”
–Monkey D. Luffy’s voice echoes across the ship loud enough Sanji starts and almost, almost cuts his finger instead of the entrecôte he’s slicing off a cow’s ribcage in methodical motions. A curse is quick to come to the cook’s lips, cigarette glowing with the sigh he breathes before he washes the blood off his hands, turns off the stove and fridges the meat in the span of a few seconds.
Sanji is not the only one to follow the sound of the primal scream to the upper deck. There, they find Luffy staring open-mouthed between Nami and Robin, all crestfallen like they told him all stag beetles in the world have spontaneously gone extinct. Bleary-eyed from where he was obviously taking a nap, Zoro grumbles, “What the hell, are you serious?”, and it doesn’t sound like he’s protesting the noise but what was said to cause it in the first place.
“Is something the matter?”, inquires Brook with mild-mannered concern in his voice; Franky flicks his sunglasses up to better survey the situation at hand and Chopper is already yelling, “A doctor! We need a–” before Usopp grabs the panicking reindeer and shushes him gently.
Yet it’s Sanji they stare at, four sets of eyes wide with trepidation and Sanji’s heart drops to the soles of his shoes because yeah, it took longer than expected. It’s still happening, though, and in a forgotten corner of his thoughts Sanji wonders which of his nightmares is coming true this time around.
Fear is quick to rise to his throat, a pressure that threatens to cut his very breath short. Sanji swallows it down and asks, “What?”, voice hard and defensive even to his own ears.
And just like that, the bubble bursts and Robin smiles, quiet and sad, and Nami looks away and Luffy waves his hands – “Uh, nothing! Don’t worry about it!” – and Zoro’s expression shutters so fast Sanji can’t gleam anything at all from him.
Sanji opens his mouth to protest, to tell his captain exactly where he can shove that shitty lie of his–
Face after face his gaze touches and he realizes, with an instinct almost as old as himself, that they won’t tell. The others, yes, the meaningful look of later between Nami and Usopp is proof of that – not Sanji, though, she won’t tell him because Nami hasn’t told him much of anything since he came back, and Sanji knows he deserves it. He deserves it all and still it hurts, his battered heart clenching just because it can, because it will always care about this handful of people he calls family in the solitude of his mind no matter if they want him around or not.
There’s alarm in Luffy’s eyes then, a quick burst of “Sanji, wait–” and Sanji might understand why he’s not allowed but he doesn’t have to stick around and beg for a confirmation. He has some pride left, after all.
“Dinner’s in an hour”, he spits around his cigarette and turns away. His back is straight and his pace measured as he forces himself to descend the stairs one at a time and–
“I said wait. Dinner’s on us today, okay?”
“Luffy”, warns Zoro quietly and Sanji neither wants nor needs his pity, either.
Luffy ignores him too, says, “I’m gonna be careful this time, I promise”, voice upbeat and gentle and everything Sanji doesn’t want to hear. Usually Luffy’s promises are the stones that pave the way Sanji walks on but this, it twists in the hollow of his chest like a key turning in a lock.
Sanji’s grip on the reiling is hard enough to make the wood creak. He lowers his head and says, “Aye, Captain”, and only later will he notice he forgot to put any sort of fight into those two words.
>>Chapter 2.
#one piece#vinsmoke sanji#sanji#monkey d. luffy#fanfiction#this fic is also on AO3!#writing this fic is like using those attacks in pokémon where both the enemy and your own team is hurt by it#siiigh i just want sanji to be happy;;#my stuff#one piece fanfiction#(chapter 2 will be here next week!!)
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“I Watched the Artemis Fowl Movie and It Made Me Very Upset” Liveblog!
So I decided I had to subject myself to this movie despite being Extremely Aware that it’s a massive pile of firey garbage. It was about as painful as expected, so I liveblogged to keep my sanity. Here’s basically what happened in my head while I was watching:
Josh Diggums: I feel so bad for Josh Gad's voice because it's painfully obvious they just didn't want Olaf showing up so they forced him into some terrible Bale-Batman voice that keeps cracking
why is this movie taking itself so seriously
Book Artemis: eternally unathletic dweeb
Movie Artemis: SURFING MASTER
the fuck, Branagh
THIS VOICE IS SO DAMN BAD, JOSH PLEASE STOP TALKING
okay Artemis is appropriately a little shit for EXACTLY ONE SCENE
FUCK OFF WITH FRIDGING THE MOM, BRANAGH
"ur mom's dead and ur dad's gone so ur a little shit" WHAT A GREAT COUNSELOR
fuck's sake
Book Artemis: immediately falls off whatever this hover thing is
COLIN FARRELL. SEXY MAN.
I ALMOST FORGIVE THEM FOR BRINGING HIM BACK EARLY
AND..... KNOWING ABOUT MAGIC
SDJFKSDF
WHATEVER
I WAS PREPARED FOR THIS
this voice is still terrible, Josh. I'm sorry
this kid is a pretty good actor
"all i really want is to believe in you" that was actually well-delivered
"Arty"
<sobbing>
OKAY IT'S NOT ACCORDING TO THE BOOK BUT FUCK ME THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS WELL DONE
i desperately need Butler to show up soon tho
I SPOKE TOO SOON
"DOMOVOI" ??!!?? YOU FUCKS
why
are his eyes
fucking ELECTRIC BLUE
HIS LITERAL FUKDFSUCING NAME IN THE BOOKS IS 'BUTLER' IT'S PART OF BEING AN INSANELY GOOD SECRET AGENT GUARDIAN HE'S NOT AN ACTUFL FUCKING BUTLER AND LITERALLY NO ONE EVER CALLS HIM "THE BUTLER" BUT HIS NAME IS BUTLER BECAUSE HIS REAL NAME IS SECRET HE'S FUCKING SECURITY FUCKING DID YOU READ THIS FUCKING BOOK SERIES AT ALL BRANAGH OR DID YOU JUSTDSJFKLDSHFSD:LFSEFAGH
i'm sorry
Butler is my absolute favorite character of the entire damn series and they fucking
can't even get OOOONNNNNEEEEEEEEE CHARACTER CORRECT
SCREAMS
did they think calling him "Butler" would be weird because they cast a black guy?????
AGAIN WHY WITH THE FUCKING ELECTRIC BLUE CONTACTS THEY'RE SO OBVIOUSLY FAKE IT LOOKS SO BAD. IF YOU MAKE THE DECISION TO CAST AN AFRICAN AMERICAN MAN JUST FUCKING OWN THAT HE HAS DARK EYES DON'T DO THIS
THE "OWL STAR"???? REALLY???? WHY NOT FOWL STAR
WHY
NOT
IT'S JUST SUCH AN ARBITRARY DUMBASS CHANGE IT MAKES NO SENSE
PLEASE DID I JUST MISUNDERSTAND THE REPORTER MAN
DID THE CAPTIONS JUST MISUNDERSTAND HIM?????
NOPE IT'S LITERALLY THE O W L S T A R
fuck off
i'm sorry
stuff like that just bothers me a lot
it makes ABSOLUTELY no sense to change it
Fowl Star made sense bECAUSE IT'S OWNED BY ARTEMIS FOWL
artemis has a lot more emotions than i remember him having
i will not forgive them for destroying the Butler/Artemis relationship in favor of a Dad they fucking fridge in the first half hour of the movie
oh boy nursery rhymes as codes
GROUNDBREAKING
i think the fairies would have something to say about you hiding their own shit from them, MISTER SENIOR
it's still a bad voice, Josh, I'm so sorry
okay Haven is pretty nice
"Haven" not "Haven City"
pretty sure
holly being a 13 year old girl is disconcerting
that was mentioned in a review
they're supposed to be Child-Sized not ACTUAL CHILDREN
also "small person = higher pitched voice" is such a stupid trope please stop
i like the Being diversity around the city
like lots of different types of humanoids
josh desperately wants to do the Olaf voice
i'm so sorry Josh
okay aside from the shit voice Diggums is pretty good
lol Cudgeon's already in jail
i
okay then
i know this is Opal Koboi
meh
i hate her in the books so they can fuck her up all they want
judi dench is batman too i guess
how many cigs you smoke judi root
OH BOY HOLLY HAS MISSING DADDY ISSUES TOO
fucking shit
"you're 84" and you look like a fUCKING THIRTEEN YEAR OLD
such bad choices
every time they say "Domovoi" i--
HISDFHSDHFH
JULIET
SHE'S
HIS
FUCKING
NIECE?????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!??????????
SDFJLS:DKF FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK YYYYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU
FUCK YOU
FUCK
FUCK
FUCK YOU KENNETH BRANAGH
NO
NO
NO
NO
SHE'S
HIS
FUCKING
SISTER
HIS BABY SISTER HE LOVES AND CARES FOR EVEN MORE THAN ARTEMIS AND THAT'S A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT RELATIONSHIP THAN UNCLE AND NIECE
HOW COULD YOU LITERALLY DESTROY EVERYTHING ABOUT BUTLER AND STILL SLEEP AT NIGHT
<vomits into the sun>
eoin colfer i hope you made so much money off of this SHITSTACK
(genuinely tho that's literally the only consolation; now he can write more Good Books)
Juliet is cute but i know about all she does is make sandwiches
so fuck this
judi dench is Good
foaly is Okay
why's he wearing clothes tho
the chutes are a lot more... open than expected
BEECHWOOD SHORT THE TRAITOR
FUCK OFF
WHY IS HOLLY’S CHARACTER DEFINED BY HER FUCKING FATHER
THIS IS SO MUCH WORSE AN OUTCOME THAN I EVEN EXPECTED GIVEN THEY EVISCERATED HER CHARACTER'S DRIVE BY MAKING THE L.E.P. ALREADY HAVE FEMALE OFFICERS AND COMMANDERS
"get out cudgeon before i throw you out" okay they got Root completely right at least
aside from making him a her
but that's okay
because it's Judi Dench
awwwww happy flying scene bUT HOLLY YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE SHIELDED GOt DAMN
“any update?” "yes. i'm freezing" amazing, Butler
i mean dOmOvOi
HOLLY YOU'RE STILL NOT SHIELDED
CGI isn't too bad in this but honestly that's not impressive anymore
awwwww cute wedding scene
troll is about as ugly as possible
LOL JUST FUCKING THROW TIME FREEZE UP LIKE IT'S NOTHING
OKAY
LOL HOLLY GO DEAL WITH THE TROLL DON'T FOCUS ON ONE SMALL CHILD
THAT'S NOT HOW A TIME FREEZE WORKS
I
i mean it's COOL
i love the little Men in Green zipping around
but it doesn't make ANY sense
LOL SO WHY DO THE PEOPLE THINK THE PLACE IS TRASHED
lol gently floating troll
Hollyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
Judi Root continues to be amazing
ok tbf Opal Koboi would be after the Aculos if it existed
OP MacGuffin plots are so tired tho like really Branagh
i love the wings on her suit
ARTEMIS WHEN DID YOU GET TO THE TREE
holly ur a bad 84-year-old officer
LOL CUDGEON IS RIGHT ON
AND JUDI ROOT CONTINUES TO BE
"Not Happy!" lol wat
who wrote that bit of dialogue and said "yes this a perfectly good thing to have her say when she wakes up in a cage"
"mesmerism"
boy i love these exposition dump convos between Mr. Sr. and Arty
LOL "most human beings are afraid of gluten, how do you think they'd handle goblins" is a great line
out of touch, but still funny
...why does the time freeze take forever to generate now when you did it in TWO SECONDS BEFORE
calm down holly damn
foaly's very pretty
sO DID THEY FREEZE THE *ENTIRE WORLD*????????
I THOUGHT THE POINT WAS TO FREEZE THINGS INSIDE SO YOU HAVE MOONLIGHT LONGER
AND
AND
whatever
i love this fucking ARMY coming out of literally everywhere
"TOP OF THE MORNIN'" OH MY FUCKING GOODNESS
whole movie is worth it
for that line
i love that they're entirely in green
and no one ever Shields
ever
they mentioned Shields once but NO ONE IS SHIELDED
BUTLER WOULD NEVER LET ARTEMIS INTO A FIGHT
SCREAMS
"TAKE THE SHOT"
WHY IS THE TIME FREEZE SO EASILY DESTABILIZED
FOALY
ARE YOU TELLING ME NO ONE HAS EVER SHOT YOUR FUCKING ENORMOUS DEVICE
omg no U GAVE OPAL KOBOI LEGITIMATE REASONS FOR DOING WHAT SHE'S DOING
YOU GAVE HER A SAD FRUSTRATING BACKSTORY
SHE'S SUPPOSED TO BE AN ARROGANT SELF-SERVING BITCH AND NOTHING ELSE
TWENTY SEVEN MINUTES??????
hOW DID ARTEMIS KNOW ABOUT MULCH DIGGUMS SPECIFICALLY
lol that is 100% a completely inhumane prison what the fuck, fairies
why does Holly have human music
well i'm glad we didn't have to watch mulch almost eat a dude's head
"My father was kidnapped."
"My father is dead."
"Can I trust you?"
"You'll have to."
BUT WHY
WHAT IS THIS DIALOGUE
WHAT IS THIS CHARACTER PROGRESSION
THERE's NO REASON TO TRUST HER
OR TO NEED TO TRUST HER
THIS IS COMPLETELY UNEARNED AND STUPID
glad holly's entire character REVOLVES AROUND A MAN NOW, BRANAGH
LOL THEY JUST DIDN'T GIVE ROOT A FIRST NAME???
JUDI ROOT CONFIRMED
"listen to us, grunting at each other like a pair of hippos with a throat infection" LMAO
i hope that was Josh Gad improv
LOL HE JUST FUCKING DESTROYS EVERYTHING IN HIS WAY WHILE TUNNELING
YOU DIDN'T EVEN REALLY TUNNEL IN, MULCH
HOW DID YOU COME OUT OF A PAINTING
DO THEY HAVE PAINTINGS IN A BASEMENT???
WHAT HAPPENED TO THE SHEETROCK OR WHATEVER
IT WOULD HAVE BEEN SO EASY TO JUST
UGH
FOLLOW THE BOOK
COME ON
MULCH YOU ARE THE WORST BURGLAR
"what would your parents be" THEY'D BE CENTAURS MULCH
is... is Mulch on the second floor
HE TUNNELED THROUGH THE WALL ONTO THE SECOND FLOOR
artemis... just.. lets holly out
ok cool
LOL HIS NOSE HAIRS GROW AND MOVE LIKE TENTACLES
stupid and... funny? i guess
at least Cudgeon is the piece of shit he is in the book lol
oh boy troll time
BUTER WOULD NEVER LET MULCH DIGGUMS PICKPOCKET HIM
"jam all magic" OMFG THAT'S NOT POSSIBLE
BUTLER WOULD NEVER LET ARTEMIS FACE DOWN A FUCKING TROLL
LOL THEY JUST FIRE THE TROLL LIKE A BULLET
A TROLL-ET
DOMOVOI YOU ARE COMPLETELY USELESS WHAT THE FUCK
i wonder if kids even like this movie
omg butler couldn't even jump
i
i don't understand
he literally DOESN'T HELP AT ALL
IT'S HIS WHOLE THING
IS BEING ABLE TO KICK ASS
FUCKING COME ON BRANAGH
yeah fuck you branagh
are... are the fairies just DYING TO THE TIME FREEZE COLLAPSE???
"goodbye my friend. i'm sorry i was FUCKING USELESS"
branagh you're trying to activate my feelings with this Sad Death Scene(TM) but i am IMPERVIOUS because artemis has had NO RELATIONSHIP WHATSOEVER WITH THIS """DOMOVOI"""
COOL HE'S BACK NOW I’M SO GLAD ACTUAL FULL ON DEATH HAS ZERO CONSEQUENCES NOW THANKS TO OP FAIRY MAGIC
WHAT GREAT WRITING THIS IS
"i didn't cry did i" FUCK OFF
WHY IS IT SO DANGEROUS WHEN THE TIME FREEZE ENDS
WHY IS YOUR TECH SO SHITTY, FOALY
TIME FREEZES AREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE DANGEROUS TO THE OCCUPANTS
THAT GOES AGAINST ALL OF FAIRY RULES
...okay and then it just ends..........?
Domovoi: "you have to try!"
Artemis: "i can't, tho"
Domovoi: "it's too dangerous!"
WHAT IS THIS DIALOGUE
WHO WROTE THIS ABSOLUTE DRIVEL
"the aculos for my father"
THE L.E.P. DOESN'T EVEN HAVE YOUR FATHER YOU ABSOLUTE DOOF
holly how do u know how to do this
the... the aculos is just the fucking Book?
i feel slapped in the face
she just recites the words and. and.
whatever
whatever
i'm done
GO FIND YOUR DAD WHO'S MAGICALLY BACK
WHY WOULD HE BE IN THE BED ARTEMIS
YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE A GENIUS
this girl who plays Holly cannot act
i'm sorry girl
MAGICALLY BACK DAD
HOORAY HOLLY'S CHARACTER CONTINUES TO BE DEFINED BY HER FATHER
FUCK
YOU
WRITERS
AND BRANAGH
BUTLER WOULD NEVER CRY, DOMOVOI
i like the cool earpiece they gave Judi Root to maybe? disguise her hearing aid?
Haven does look pretty cool
too much water above tho it’s not Atlantis guys come on
"i'm a criminal mastermind" LITERALLY WHEN DID YOU SHOW ANY SORT OF MASTERMIND BEHAVIOR OR CRIMINAL BEHAVIOR
BESIDES BRIEFLY KIDNAPPING HOLLY AND THEN IMMEDIATELY LETTING HER OUT
LMAO THAT LAST SHOT OF JULIET JUST LOOKING EXCITEDLY OUT OF THE WINDOW AT THE HELICOPTER WHILE EVERYONE LEAVES HER BEHIND
WHAT'S THE POINT OF THAT EVEN
THIS POOR GIRL YOU’RE JUST LEAVING HER ALONE
WOW THIS PRISON/INTERROGATION PLACE HAS LIKE
NO SECURITY
HI HOLLY WHY ARE YOU HERE??????
THIS WHOLE ENDING IS JUST THE STUPID CAP ON TOP OF A STUPID SUNDAE
i need to go listen to the books again now
#artemis fowl#artemis fowl movie#liveblog#spoilers#flaming hot garbage#disney seriously who the FUCK did you make this movie for#cause it sure wasn't the fans
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— for a night of wine i'll pay one hundred days of vinegar.
it’s more noticeable when gavin’s shaved the day before. it’s a lot smaller, now. but it was kinda of a big deal at 15, though. one is next to his cupid’s bow, on the right. rather minuscole, gavin would say, as his hand guides the chin up and down in front of the oblong mirror. the other is under his lips, on the left side, a bit bigger than the first but yes, smaller than what he’d remember nevertheless. it’s somewhat still vivid in his memory. the earliest time he tasted violence and blood (and could never get enough after that). in his gums the tinge of rust and metal. the same that teased his skin sufficiently to left cuts. it was because he ran his mouth too much, too hazardous; and they decided to let his tongue fall out, right there, on the ground, but he wasn’t about the same idea and shoved a kick in the stomach to whoever was pinning him down. returning home, shirt stained blackish-red, gavin thought his mother made a much bigger fuss regarding the whole ordeal than his ‘opponents’. his dad, raising glasses off the newspaper for a moment, concluded with a joke that, if they’d really got his tongue he’d never drown and it ain’t all bad.
the car ride to work is not so terrible. at 6AM there aren’t many people yet. it’s quiet. just him, the toxic smokes in the sky inhaling from the rolled down window and ‘heaven knows i’m miserable now’ by the smiths on the radio. too bad the DPD is what actually makes gavin irritable. those stupid androids receptionists, nothing more than expensive assembled people-pleasers, always full of forged smiles and phony lines.
he immediately goes straight to the break room to grab a coffee. good morning my ass.
he’s much more at ease with rotten bodies on a freezing afternoon. they don’t speak, don’t ask and, above everything, don’t bother him. unlike that thing he’s been assigned a crime scene with, which has been talking reed’s ear off for minutes at this point. of course, as that thing explains the case’s details he probably rolls his eyes a hundred times. for fuck’s sake, he knows how to do his job, don’t need the opinions of a machine ‘are your eyes okay, detective?’ it inquires. the question is laced with bare curiosity and a dash of innocence. but gavin resents it. and interprets the phrase as a joke. about him. not with him. and that’s not okay “they rolled away down the interstate” he scoffs and takes a cig out of his breast pocket, putting it between his head and his right ear.
it’s 2024. gavin’s 22 now. and his father is dead.
cancer.
he didn’t know. his parents keeping it a secret so he could continue living a year more without worry. and while that was probably the best decision for everyone.... he can’t help but think about how much he took for granted, thinking this would last forever. about all the time he wasted away from him, not talking to him, not travelling with him, all the birthdays and the holidays.
he regrets. and he’ll regret much more as he continues to grow. as his stubble continues itching. as his scars keep forming. he knows he’ll regret for the rest of his life. he hopes his mum can forgive him.
but he can’t cry today. he won’t.
the tears at the end of his throat creating a painful knot. one he’s not able to force out of his mouth by pinching with his indexes the end of the thread. they’ll stay there for a long time.
he’s (not) ok.
tomorrow’s the funeral and gavin has been staring at the ceiling for a whole day. back on his bed, hands on top of each other over his chest. fixating on spiders making their webs, waiting for bugs to fly towards them and getting entangled in sticky wires, only to end up bite-poisoned. just that. just waiting. how he envies them. because god’s not going to throw a bone at this lonely dog.
he comes home at an unreasonable hour. opens his door and tosses the few things on his persona to the cluttered couch. gavin doesn’t have a table, nor a dining room. he never has guests, and doesn’t plan to. because of this (and his inflated pay) the tiny apartment consist of only a cozy living space, a bathroom and a bedroom.
his fridge is rather empty and his dinner will most likely consist of an ashtray, leftover pizza and the last canned beer.
while comfortably supine the detective can review the cases’ files. he doesn’t mind working more. he never minds work. it’s what kept him sane and busy for years. and he loves it. maybe not the part in which he should visit the deceased victim’s family, not the part about writing reports, not the part where he has to socialize, sure, but the idea, the idea of doing something he’s exceptionally good at, something that will give him the chance to rise above this heap of trash who only want to be a simple gear in a mechanism. he loves it.
absentmindedly chewing, ochre and white paper scattered on every crevice available, he touches the middle of his nose. a habit he doesn’t realize he got. developed after the biggest gash on his face healed. from there to the lobe of his left ear.
it was in his first years as an officer, or maybe it was before that? nobody except gavin ever knew the truth to that story. one day he just woke up in a hospital bed, face half covered in bandages, body barely fitting a washed green gown. cursing everything in himself, in the world, cursing whatever left him in an alley, alive, bloody, alone. he could have died and everyone would have remembered him fondly. instead, as that day, he was back on the cold ground, looking up at the cerulean sky. instead, as that other day, his shirt was dirty and red; his mother will probably make a fuss this time too. in those moments he thought were the last of his life, he was strangely happy; selfish until the last moment, selfish as a necessity, necessity of living he never asked for.
instead, like a cat, he got another life up his sleeve.
and if he survived he owed almost all of it to the people he hated. androids, after all.
in what he thought was the rest of his life, he wanted to scream that he didn’t need anybody’s permission to set himself on fire.
in the future, there’s a tauntingly soft ‘here’ before RK900 hands gavin a cloth cold pack. the detective refuses it with an indolent movement of his bruised knuckles and the androids can’t help but uncomfortably sit on the police car hood next to him, pack of shiny ice in his palm; since there’s no blood in him, it won’t melt, since he’s not warm, he’s not living “what doesn’t kill you....” a pause of few seconds, as if the android is actually searching for the perfect words. no need to say, they both know he already has them and is only mocking him “makes you ugly?” a grin showing his handmade speckless teeth. gavin still resents it. so absurdly flawless, it almost resembles the grimace of a nocturnal animal about to devour a carcass more than a simple smile. it hurts to look at it. reed can’t stand it. and his gaze returns to the ground “eh, jealous because bar chicks go crazy for a wounded cop?” the tone is ironic, as a couple drops of blood flow from his features and become pulp onto the tarmac “i thought these so-called ‘bar chicks’ loved cops with their nose still on.” a muffled fist of cough. maybe, starting to smoke while still dizzy, is not his best thought “so if i break my face and i don’t look so great? my face is just my face.” another impeccable faint chuckle, it seems unreal, ethereal, from above “i see.” silence, longer this time “mhh, how does that saying go? life gives you lemons....” gavin unceremoniously props his head on RK900’s shoulder, staining his white jacket a weak burgundy “shut up. at least it gave you something.” and like this, in the future, gavin reed has a new scar.
#DBH#reed900#gavin reed#RK900#gavin reed x RK900#RK900 x gavin reed#detroit become human#it's based on the song break my face by ajr#like the bold words are lyrics#it's been sitting in my drafts for montsh now?#ugh#gavin900#gavin reed x nines#nines x gavin reed#dbh fanfic#detroit become human fanfic#detroit become human fanfiction
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dark
life is done. Was done before I knew about it. Spark? gone.
The only thing I can think about is that this type of situation is bad. I am fucked. I desire something that doesn’t exist. I desire things that exist only in books and most of them die in those books regardless, how the fuck would they survive real life.
But I know what I need.
I need the feel of heavy kings coat on my shoulders. I need a man that would spark my fire. I need a man that smells of cigs and metal or cement or at least saw-dust. I need….
I have no fire. I have a man.
Already for three years.
I was never timid but then again who is.
I think I’m sliding into depression episode again.
I know what I need.
And I know I would never get it.
I love the cold wind on my feet. It feels...painful. It has a feeling tho and feeling starved is worse than feeling bad thinks.
But there are things I have to.
for example i have to pass the next exam, I have to get internship, i have to get a job, and i have to start writting. I have to start following MY dreams not the dreams of my parents.
I am pathetic 20 y.o. scum.
Today i bought my second pack of cigs. Today i smoked a cig on my window. Today i got horny. Not in this particular order.
What is love… first three months of pleasure and after that its only commitment. Never thought this is what i will be doing in denmark three days before my exam at 22.25.
I am losing myself.
But it feels like im finally finding myself.
Tomorrow at lab he is not going to be there. For fucks sakes he is never going to be there. He doesnt EXISTS.
I wont see him in town, nor my room or any other place. I can dream him up in my mind but what is dream in my head… just a fucking hallucination.
I will never get to know how it feels to have his heavy sanded leather jacked past my knees. Never will i ever know how it feels to be naked in his hunting sweater that’s so much bigger on me. Never will i ever know the feeling of his big thighs under my ass. Never will i ever get hold of those shoulders that really should be beneath me as I ride him for MY pleasure.
I will not know the feeling of getting hit on in front of him. Never will I see beating the shit out of the other one behind the bar. I will never know of the feeling when the man is jealous of you, protective.
I want too much. As I always have.
Smoke. Old car. Old music. Weed. Drunk. Endless driving. Hot car sex. Goosebumps when he touches me. Banging against the wall.
Is that really too much… in this world, fuck yes it is.
You are not anymore. Our steps in the dust are gone with rain.
I don’t even believe you ever were.
I know nothing for tomorrows lab. NOTHING.
So fucking pathetic.
How the fuck can I even long for something I never knew.
And in that dust, I kneel,
Sinking into the ground,
How could you know how I feel,
When I made you up in my mind.
There’s no point is hoping,
it is just uneasy,
nothing better ever comes,
from this bullshit fantasy.
But there I still see you,
Squeezing me so tight,
As I moan into your mouth,
You biting my jaw.
Your records endless in the background,
Whispering about us,
but what do they know about crap,
sliding in and out.
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