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icallhimjoey · 4 months

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♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: What good are flatmates even, if they don't comfort you when you need it most? Or when you need it a normal amount? Or, you know, when you don't really need it, but just really want it?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, hurt/comfort i guess? idk we're sad a lot and joe cheers us up a lot

Author’s note: this sort of came about after taking small little bits from several requests that i combined and then shaped into what i wanted for myself, and for a minute, i thought 'what if i don't make this one extremely self-indulgent for once' but then... why the fuck wouldn't i? so...

Wordcount: 2.7K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

One of those days.

You weren’t going to wait until you got home to ask Joe what pizza toppings he wanted. Not today. So you texted,

“peperoni or chicken?”

And it took just a few seconds for Joe to open Whatsapp and to reply.

“those my only two options?”

You didn’t have the mental capacity to even think of any other pizza toppings, let alone get into some banter over text with your flatmate.

“joe”

There were a million ways for Joe to have read that, to have interpreted that. Yet, he got the tone of it just right.

“don’t worry, i’ll take care of it”

No playing. Just quick solutions to problems of which Joe didn’t even really know what they were yet. Then another text from him followed, asking you the question you’d just sent him.

“peperoni or chicken?”

“chicken”

You remembered exactly when this pizza tradition started. Could pinpoint the exact date, time, and place.

“no i was wrong.” “peperoni”

The first time you and Joe shared a pizza as new flatmates, was when you’d gotten home one morning, still very obviously in the outfit you’d left in the night before. Joe had been cooking up some breakfast in the kitchen and had his jokes ready, already grinning to himself when he hadn’t even seen you yet.

“Well, well, well,” he called over his shoulder as you took a moment by the front door to just... breathe. You would’ve tried gathering yourself, but there wasn’t much to gather.

“I know you said the plan was to go out and celebrate Friday, but you didn’t mention anything about Saturday morning,” you could hear the joy in Joe’s voice, all chipper and lively. He’d very clearly had a great night’s sleep, unlike you.

Joe heard footsteps, and when they stopped in the doorway, he turned his head to look. Spatula still in hand, eggs just about ready in the pan in front of him.

“Look at what the cat’s drag–...” the comment died on his tongue. “Jesus, are you all right?”

Joe had expected a tired, sloppy girl to have walked in. One with messy hair, eye make-up all smudged and sort of drunk a little, still.

He’d been right.

That was exactly what he was looking at, which should objectively be funny. Hence the smile that still lingered on his face as his brow slowly furrowed in confusion.

“You look like the inside of a shoe,”

Joe tried his hand at humour, but it fell completely flat.

What he hadn’t anticipated, was for his flatmate to look quite so sad in reaction to his comments. So very drained of life. You’d obviously been crying and looked like you hadn’t slept in weeks.

For a moment you just stood in that doorway, looked a little dazed because, um, why were you going into your shared living space again?

You needed your bed.

Without answering Joe, and without even really acknowledging him at all, you took a shuddering breath and slowly turned back around, only to ignore Joe’s question and disappear into the hallway.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Joe quickly turned the hob off and rounded the island to go after you. He was too late though, stepping into the hallway just as your bedroom door closed behind you. The immediate guilt that followed his poking-fun carried him over to stand in front of it, just enough self-restraint left to not just open your door and walk in right after you.

You didn’t seem like you needed to be pissed off any more than you already were.

From just outside of your bedroom door, you heard a very faint knock, followed by Joe’s voice, asking if you were all right once more.

“Did– did something happen? What’s going on?”

All you managed to do was sigh, just loud enough for Joe to catch it.

“What happened?”

But you didn’t want to get into it.

“Do you– hey,” Joe called your name, waited for a second, in case you wanted to answer him, but then when you didn’t, he followed it up with, “Do you want some breakfast?”

And honestly, breakfast sounded nice. But so did burying yourself into your duvet for a few days, where no one would try to look you in the eye, and where no one would try to make you talk. Were you going to listen to your rumbling stomach that wanted some food, or to the rest of your body that just wanted to be horizontal?

“Some scrambled eggs? Piece of toast?”

You milled it over in your mind.

“Or, I could make you something else? You want some yoghurt? With some berries in?”

Joe tried. Was actively trying. But it didn’t seem to work, just didn’t seem to do the trick. It stayed silent on your side of the door.

“Some pizza?”

And it was meant as a careful joke. A hopeful small little thing to at least lift the mood, if nothing else. If you were even still listening to him at all, that was.

He was about to tell you that he’d be in the kitchen if you needed anything, that you could just let him know. No worries if not. But then he heard rustling. Stumbling footsteps, followed by your bedroom door slowly opening.

“Hey,” Joe cocked his head to the side at the sight of you, his eyes all soft, forehead crinkled with worry. “I’m sorry.”

You looked right past him.

“What... what kind of pizza?”

You focused on the important things instead. Didn’t really care to acknowledge Joe’s apology.

“Well,” Joe tried to hide his smile as he looked down at his feet before stepping aside and holding an arm out, inviting you to walk ahead of him, making your way back into the living area. “I think there’s a few to choose from in the freezer.”

You’d shared a pizza that morning, you sat at one of the stools of the kitchen island, and Joe stood on the side. He hadn’t asked you any questions then, but instead had just tried his hand at light conversation until suddenly, halfway through a slice, you’d started sobbing.

And it wasn’t like you and Joe had never hugged before.

But you’d never been hugged by him like that before.

Where Joe instantly dropped his food and stepped closer to fold arms around you. Where Joe got an arm around your head to press your face into his chest whilst the other curled down around your shoulders that pressed your chest into his stomach. Where he decided he wasn’t going to be the one to pull back first, and so you’d just embraced like that for over half an hour.

He hadn’t asked you any questions.

Not when you cried.

Not when you’d stuttered through breaths as you tried to recollect yourself after.

Not when you eventually pulled back and reached for another bite of now-cold pizza.

Not when you then silently frowned at the hardened cheese and softly sighed to yourself.

Not when you did eventually retreat back into your room but came out just a minute later and asked if Joe had any plans that day.

Even if he did have plans, Joe knew that he’d cancel them all for you.

“Want to rot on the sofa with me? Watch films all day?”

And you hadn’t meant to fall asleep all sagged into his side then, but you had. And Joe had played with the ends of your hair until the warmth and comfort had pulled him into a nap as well.

You’d never talked about what had happened then, why you had been so sad, because you didn’t need to. It was nice that Joe hadn’t asked for you to explain why you’d cried, and instead had just comforted you until you managed to smile for him again.

Joe thought that maybe, if you wanted to tell him, one day you would. But he didn’t need to know why his flatmate was sad when she was. He was happy just being there to help and fix it.

And now, here you were. Two flatmates who shared a tradition of having pizza and watching a film when you’d had a bad day.

And today had just been... long. Hard. Frustrating. You didn’t want to get into all the things that had nearly pushed you over the edge, and you were glad that you didn’t need to.

Joe didn’t ask questions. Never did.

Just went to get you the peperoni pizza you’d asked for.

Would cuddle you on the sofa all night if that was what you wanted.

It was what he wanted, anyway.

He was well aware that none of that was normal though.

You were flatmates.

If Joe referred to you in conversation with a friend, with a family member, or even with a stranger, you were his flatmate. The girl that he shared the living area of his flat with. The pantry, the fridge and the freezer. The coat closet by the door. A letterbox downstairs by the entrance.

Flatmates.

But if someone were to ask you if you and your flatmate were friends too, you’d tell them yes of course. You shared dinner more often than not. If you had friends ‘round, Joe would hang out too. And vice versa.

Normal.

Just normal friendly flatmates that also knew each other’s parents by their first names, but you know, those things sort of just came with sharing a living space together, right?

And no one ever really thought there was more to you and Joe, anyway.

Why would they even assume?

You dated other people. Went on regular dates with different men. Other guys. Would even sometimes sit and watch a film with someone, and Joe would join you for a little while. Have casual conversation with whoever you’d invited over.

Normal.

What wasn’t so normal was that the second it would just be you and Joe, you wouldn’t hesitate to touch if you wanted to touch. Wouldn’t hesitate to find him, wherever he’d be, and sling your arms around his stomach from behind, just to hold him for a minute. Would wait to get comfortable on the sofa until Joe would join you there and you’d wait for his arm to find its way around you before you’d settle in.

You never talked about it.

It was just what it was like. You were close. The affection was just a natural thing between the two of you. It didn’t need any words. Any explaining.

But Joe knew you both understood that this could be interpreted very differently through other people’s eyes.

It’s why you kept referring to each other as flatmates, and why you weren’t like that in front of other people.

Which was fine.

You lived together.

There was plenty of time without other people there.

When you walked into your flat that evening, the promise of a shared peperoni pizza combined with the contrasting warmth that immediately made you feel uncomfortably hot in your coat, was nearly enough to bring you to tears.

“Joe?”

“Hey, bad news,”

Oh no.

Joe appeared at the other end of the hallway.

“They didn’t have any Sprite left, so I got you a Fanta.”

You let your shoulders drop and let your head fall to the side in relief. That was hardly bad news. You didn’t love Fanta, but the bad news revealed Joe had gone out to get a pizza instead of throwing a frozen one into the oven.

“Fanta’s fine.” You smiled. Joe easily copied it.

“Good, okay. Now,” Joe continued, suddenly his face all serious again as you took your coat off and toed your shoes off. “I know that last time, I got to pick a film, so technically it is your turn... but, I’ve already chosen something to watch, and I did go out to get us the largest peperoni pizza London has to offer, so...”

You stilled and gave an exaggerated sigh, all mock frustration, because you honestly didn’t give a shit. If anything, it was nice that Joe had made the choice for you, seeing as you didn’t really have the mental capacity for any decisions right now. If it had been left up to you, you’d hav been scrolling through Netflix for at least half an hour until settling just to watch some celebrity panel shows on Channel 4.

“No sprite and I don’t get to choose the film?”

“I’m sorry,” Joe was trying stupidly hard to hide a smile.

You blinked at him a second.

“You’re not sorry.”

“No I’m not. You made me go out and it’s fucking freezing outside today.”

You made your way over to your bedroom to get changed, and just before disappearing, you said, “Cool way of letting me know you’ve not left the flat all day.”

Like Joe’s hair hadn’t told you as much already.

You wished your job would let you work from home too. Although, with Joe spending weird stretches of time just sitting around and reading, you didn’t think you’d get much work done. Would probably be a bit weird if you logged onto a zoom meeting from your spot on the sofa, half of Joe in frame.

“I did leave the flat! I just said!” Joe argued, leaving you to get into a more comfortable outfit.

You grinned to yourself.

Joe was an idiot.

In an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of joggers, you joined Joe in the living room where you found a large pizza box on the coffee table, two cans of Sprite next to it.

Sprite.

“Surprise.”

Joe had lied.

Then you looked at the TV screen, paused at the title of the film Joe’d chosen and, fuck all the way off, did he want you to cry?

“I know it’s not your genre...”

It was. It absolutely was. It wasn’t Joe’s genre, though. “But I promise you’ll like it.”

You didn’t know if you wanted to hook an elbow to his jaw or squeeze your nails into his cheeks, but you needed to do something to get this surge of emotion out.

You opted for swearing at him instead of physical violence.

“I fucking hate you so much right now,”

“Yea?” Joe sat down, pressing play on the remote and reaching for the throw blanket. “Come hate me over here.”

And so you did.

Sat down next to Joe, thigh to thigh, and let him sort the blanket so it covered the both of you before leaning over to grab the pizza box.

The heat coming from the pizza quickly found your legs through the blanket and through your joggers. It was a stark comparison to how cold your fingers still felt from your trek home.

You rubbed them together as Joe opened the pizza box and, shit, that looked good.

“You cold?”

“Just my fingers,” you replied, already putting both hands to use, ripping the pieces of crust that hadn’t been cut properly and lifting a slice out of the box.

Joe did the same, and then when he saw one of your hands lower down, he was quick to grab it, encasing your cold fingers into his large palm.

The act of being upset with him for being nice faltered, and you smiled at Joe as he smugly grinned whilst he chewed.

See, had someone else been there with you, you’d have gotten comments. If not jokes, at least you knew you would’ve gotten some judging looks. Some questions later, about what was going on between the two of you?

Nothing was going on between the two of you.

Just warm cuddles and comforting touches, which was fine when it was just you and Joe.

So what if Joe held your hand whilst you ate pizza and watched a romantic comedy together?

So what if a piece of peperoni was about to slide and fall to your chest, but Joe saw and got it just in time, and you thought he was going to pop it into his own mouth, but then instead he held it up in front of you and waited till you ate it from his fingers?

So what if, after finishing the pizza, Joe planted his feet on the coffee table and pulled you into his side a little? Grabbed your arm to lay over his stomach? Ended up with both arms slung around, his own fingers locking on your back to keep you in place whilst you watched actors older than the both of you act as if they were in their early twenties still?

Life was just more comfortable when it was filled with good snuggles, you and Joe both agreed.

But you never talked about it.

You were just close.

No questions asked.

Flatmates. Friends. Just, close.

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey

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user211201 · 23 days

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Be of Service

--- Originally posted on 2024-04-06 by dumb-and-jocked.---

Round of applause to @mrrharper

I dumped my uniform and bag into the locker, my partner John doing likewise beside me. After a graveyard shift, the two of us had decided to hit the gym bright and early in the morning before sleeping through our day off. John and I had been partners since we had first joined the police force. As officers, we had done a lot together; rode together, drank together, laughed together. One time we were even in a foursome together with two chicks we had picked up at a bar.

Now in our early thirties though, we had begun to take life a little more seriously. Start choosing wisely, acting responsibly. Working out had been my idea, and after six months it had already shown some results. Both of us were average height and had gained some pudge over the years, but now we both had notable definition. I could not help but flex a little in the mirror, impressed by the beginnings of my triceps.

“Looking fire, broski!”

My eyes shifted over to one of the three football jocks who sauntered into the locker room. I was immediately annoyed by the trio of obnoxious meatheads, and I could tell John was as well.

“Have you been coming here for long?” the first asked. “We haven’t seen you around.”

“We come when we can,” I replied. “Working for the law gives us busy schedules.”

“Woah…so are you guys like, officers or something?” the second guffawed.

“Officers, yeah.” John was irked.

“Huhuhuh…cool bruh!” the third jock inserted. “You two should totally join us!”

Before we could respond, the first jock piped back in, “Yeah dudes! We could have a great sesh between the five of us. Brock here is stellar at arms, and Duke is the best at working those legs and glutes.”

“Jalen’s a pro with chest,” the second jock, Brock, finished. “And you two officer bros, what are you good at?”

I grunted, “Knowing how to refuse an offer.”

It took Brock and Duke, the third jock, a second to process what I had implied, their mental capacities obviously slower than the average male. Jalen was a little faster however, putting on a dumb smile.

“Your loss bros, but totally understandable,” he shrugged. “In case it wasn’t obvious, we’re on the football team at the local college, so let us know if you need any workout tips or exercises.”

I barely nodded my head, offering a blunt, “Ok, thanks.” John and I then made our way past the bulky jocks, the three of them each larger than either of us. I took a breath as soon as we exited their collective earshot.

“Three cocky dicks,” I snorted. “No better way to start the morning.”

John mockingly agreed. Our workout was brutal, our bodies already tired due to our unusual sleep schedule. This, along with the occasional stare from one of the jocks, only encouraged us to work harder. Nothing was spared from our exercises, we utilized machines that hit multiple areas at once. Arms and chest, legs and back, abs and quads. At the end, we hit the treadmills for a thirty minute run, sneering back at the trio while they stood in front of one of the many mirrors and flexed their pumped arms, taking pictures for social media.

Eventually, we were back in the locker room cleaning up, both expecting the jocks to ambush us again. Fortunately, the lumbering footballers never arrived. John had joked they were probably still drooling over their own muscles in the mirror, and I had replied better they were drooling on themselves then us. I did not want their narcissistic, dim-witted reek all over me, and neither did my partner. We both opted to skip showers; we could take them back at our respective apartments before crashing into our own, cool beds.

As we left the locker rooms and headed towards the exit, we were immediately swarmed by our unwanted acquaintances.

“You know, bros,” Jalen swung a beefy, sweaty arm around both of us. Brock paced behind me, and Duke followed suit with John. “We never caught your names? We’d like to thank you for your service, officers, whatever it is you do."

His tone was a little menacing, but I knew he would not try to pull something in broad daylight. “Darren,” I responded. “and John.”

Jalen grinned, moving his arms to pat the back of our necks. I felt a little sting at his touch, almost like an electric shock.

“Now c’mon bros, how about you come join us at the frat house where we can properly use your services.”

John frowned, and I retorted with, “I think you boys have had your fun.”

Brock chuckled, “Fun’s not even started broski.”

Duke’s response was even deeper and dumber, “Huhuhuh...dudes aren’t even ready.”

We had finally made it outside, the sun just beginning to rise over the horizon. I noticed our squad cars parked up front, we would be out of this mess in just a moment.

“Alright, this is our stop,” I exclaimed, making sure the three got my message. Suddenly, a piercing jolt was sent across my spine, traveling all the way from my brain to my toes.

“Our stop is actually over there, officers.” Jalen pointed to the two trucks past their cruisers. “Darren, you can come with me and Brock, Duke here is gonna take John.”

Robotically, my body followed Jalen’s command, tracing behind the first two jocks to their obnoxiously big vehicle. Although I could not turn my head, I could tell John’s body was following the orders as well.

“Disengage Operation Mode, security bypass JALEN, sleep.”

— —

“Engage 25% Operation Mode, security bypass JALEN, wake.”

My eyes fluttered open. I was standing in an empty room, not rigid but not slouching either. To my right, I could sense my partner’s presence, familiar with John’s aura. We were still in our dirty gym gear, although our body odor was nothing compared to the three jocks standing proudly before us. Through the windows behind them, I assumed it to still be some time in the morning, but that was the only piece of the situation that I could try to fathom.

“Bet you’ve never had a mind control chip implanted, have you, officers?”

I tried to respond with something snarky, but my mouth wouldn’t let me.

“We were just trying to be friendly, help some bros out, but you two insulted our kindness.” Jalen stepped a little closer, even from a distance I could feel his large, masculine presence. “Maybe next time you won’t mess with the son of a government-funded millionaire.”

Jalen pointed his fingers at his two goons. Brock and Duke each stepped forward, crossing the distance between them and John and I. They removed our shirts, and although I could see or move my feet, I realized my shoes had already been taken too.

“My dad gifted me some leftover mind-control chips he had built for the military, said I could use them if I ever needed them. Something along the lines of "accessing the nervous system" and "reprogramming capabilities". Didn't matter to me bros, it was all nerd-speak. I just needed the commands.”

If I could have, I would have gulped. Jalen stepped closer as the other jocks discarded our clothes.

“MC 1001, 50% Operation Mode.”

Suddenly, the feeling was restored throughout my body. I did not bother with attempting an escape, recognizing my body was still glued to the floor. When I turned to my partner, I realized John had not been released.

“What’s the plan, Jalen?” I spat.

“You were so rude to us back at our gym when you are employed to be of service” Jalen smirked. "The bros and I thought we should remind you of your duty, and what better way then by dispatching you as our new security guards who obey our every wish and command?”

“So what, you’re going to 'reprogram' us?”

“How about you see for yourself?” Jalen then turned to John. “MC 1002, engage Modification Mode, security bypass JALEN.”

“MC 1002, Modification Mode engaged, security bypass confirmed." It may have been John’s mouth that had opened, but I knew it was not him who was speaking.

“Brock,” Jalen invited. “How about you take the first swing?”

Brock laughed and scratched at his crotch, “Get him jacked bro.”

Jalen turned to Duke, “Anything specific you’d like to add?”

To my surprise, Duke did have something to add–a lot to add: “Make them former rugby players bro, cause rugby is for idiots and rugby players should serve football jocks, the real alphas.”

Jalen raised his eyebrows, a bit surprised too. “Works for me. MC 1002, enter in keywords ‘Rugby’ and ‘Jock’ to the personality frame and set both at 88. Raise ‘Muscle’ by 40 base points and remove any post-secondary education from the mainframe.”

Watching the football neanderthal list off a series of programming commands put our situation into a new perspective. My eyes grew with fear as the changes installed into John’s body. It was like watching a horrible balloon inflation, his body contorting as it expanded. John’s once meager chest bloated into two massive pecs supported by two trunks of legs. His arms cartoonishly bulged until they were practically circular, his pits filling with hair as a tattoo wrapped itself around his right bicep. His face thickened too, adopting a square shape along with a wider nose and thicker stubble.

“Keywords ‘Rugby’ and ‘Jock’ successfully installed.” John’s voice was now deeper, gruffer. “‘Muscle’ upgraded, post-secondary education deleted.”

Jalen nodded, “MC 1002, add 10 base points to his age as well.”

“Adding 10 base points to ‘Age’.” To my shock, I helplessly observed my partner grow older beside me. The skin around his body tightened, pulling in to reveal the more delicate details of his veins and tendons. Wrinkles began to develop across his body along with other age marks. It was painful to watch his hairline slowly pull back, his scalp thinning out into a well-maintained crew cut.

“Here’s the fun part,” Jalen mocked, noting my face of terror. "Lower cognitive abilities by 20 base points and independent identity by 30 base points. Install the ‘Security’ package to the mainframe and boost the ‘Obedience’ category to max potential."

Although there were no visible alterations, I could have sworn the light went out behind my partner’s eyes. “All actions executed, please confirm modifications to MC 1002.”

Jalen smirked, making direct eye contact with me. “Confirm MC 1002, disengage Modification Mode, reengage total Operation Mode.”

To my delight, I watched as John’s body reanimated completely, indicating he now had full control over his body. But any hope I had was immediately crushed as soon as he stood at command, dumbly grinning with his arms crossed over his chest.

“How can I be of service, sir?” John asked Jalen.

“Go do a full sweep of the yard of something, bro.” Jalen tossed John a pair of sunglasses, not even bothering to hand him any other clothes. Apparently his now too-tight joggers were enough. “Oh, and by the way, you go by Hammer now.”

“Hammer…” John processed. “Yes sir, thank you sir.”

I watched as my former partner stomped out of the room, out of our reality.

“Why ‘Hammer’, bro?” Brock piped in from behind me.

“‘Cause he’ll be laying down the law of the land.” Jalen then shifted back to me. “Our other friend here will be ‘Brute’.”

I heard two empty-headed laughs from the two empty-headed jocks behind me.

“He’ll be nothing more than a wall of meat,” Jalen taunted. Before I could insult him back, he instantly shut me up. “MC 1001, engage Modification Mode, security bypass JALEN.”

“MC 1001, Modification Mode engaged, security bypass confirmed." My mouth was out of my control. I tried to fight back, reanimate myself by any means possible.

“Alright Duke, it’s your turn.”

“Same thing as last time, bruh.”

Disappointed, Jalen shifted back to Brock, “Got something else?”

I prayed Brock would not say anything too damaging “Make him huge dude,” he requested, putting me at ease before following up with: “And make him like a butler too.”

Jalen laughed, and if I could have I would have cried.

“Oh MC 1001,” Jalen merrily instructed. “Copy MC 1002’s personality frame and mainframe, and enhance body and clothes proportions to 1.5. ”

“Modifications downloading,” I stated, a sudden sinking emerging in my stomach. In moments, I sprung upwards towards the ceiling, my height soaring above the jocks to an astonishing six and a half feet. Muscles exploded out of my body, bloating me thick with bulk. My arms were plump and my hands meaty. Two juicy pecs larger than my head were now carried by my absolute barrel of a chest, stretched out and taut. My legs were colossal, so dense that I would permanently be forced to take wide, swaggering steps. Even my neck thickened, supporting my newly masculinized skull.

“Copy and paste procedure successful.” My voice was husky, low, deep and booming. “Body and clothes proportions at 1.5.”

“Look at his socks, bro,” I heard Brock snigger behind me. “Whattya think those stompers are?”

“Huhuhuh…I don’t know dude…maybe Size 15?”

“Looks like I missed something,” Jalen appeared disappointed. “MC 1001, reduce reproductive size to 3.”

“Redacting 4 base points from ‘Reproduction’.” I screamed, pleading for this to stop. But no words exited my mouth. Instead, I remained painfully silent as I felt my cock and balls shrivel down within my shorts.

“Helps with the obedience factor” Jalen stated. “Now, let's lower cognitive abilities by 40 base points and independent identity to 15 base points. Install the ‘Security’ package to the mainframe, boost the ‘Obedience’ category to max potential, and add in keywords ‘Respect’, ‘Humility’, and ‘Subservience’."

I would not give up, I would not cave in. “Please confirm modifications to MC 1002?”

Jalen was finished with his game. “Confirm modifications, disengage Modification Mode, reengage total Operation Mode.”

After a moment, I blinked. My head felt fuzzy, empty, as if some great weight of responsibility had been removed. I dumbly chuckled to myself.

"Feeling good there, bro?” Jalen smiled. “Excited to serve us jocks?"

"Uhhhh, yeah bruh…be of service."

"Well said, Brute."

"Brute?" I smiled lazily. “What can I uh…do bro?”

"First, let’s get you in uniform.” Jalen signaled to Duke, who then tossed a black cap to me. I secured it backwards onto my head proudly.

“Now, clean the frat house from top to bottom. I’m talking dirty laundry in the machine, trash taken out, floors scrubbed–the whole deal. I want this place looking slick before the party starts tonight. Once you’re done with that, you can go patrol the lawn for any feds. Got all that?”

It took a while for me to process everything, but eventually the dumb grin came back to my face.

“Yeah bruh…whatever you need.”

#mass enslavement #dumber #nerdtojock #unintendedresults #age progression tf #cockshrink

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cinnaminsvga · 3 months

Text

Harana Preview | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, fluff, angst → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, so much yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: anticipated 10-15K → a/n: what da hell who is she... HEY SO its been a while since ive written anything longer than 2k words and i really wanted to get back into writing, if only for practice... plus this is part of my heart full of hugot series that i teased literally eons ago and i want to finish it before the year ends... pray for my sanity ( ; ω ; )

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture.

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat.

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk.

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you continue, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence.

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and purse your lips uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away.

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door.

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice.

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off.

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note.

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you.

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole.

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero.

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation.

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

#my wips #bts scenarios #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook imagines #jungkook x reader #i gotta stop making jimin a gremlin in these LMAOOO #at the very least he isnt insane in his installment of this series #idk who i should write for next... maybe hoseok? its been a while since ive written for him (or written anything at all lol)#i need to stop making hoseok evil... new year new me #OK ANYWAY i'll post the entire thing soon-ish... yippeeeee

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strlingsav · 1 year

Text

Wounded: Two

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

One

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

You hadn't seen Simon since your intimate encounter in his bunk. It had only been a day, but your growing concern was for his leg more than anything else.

A small part of you wondered if he was purposely avoiding you, finding himself no longer wanting to be around you once he'd gotten what he wanted.

You did your best to push the thought from your mind, throwing yourself into your work, ignoring every gnawing twitch of 'what if' and 'maybe'. You didn't have time or the mental capacity to coddle your feelings, or wonder where Simon was.

He was still injured, likely limping around base, probably still participating in field training. You'd signed off on his physical under the impression he'd be stopping in to have his wound fixed; you wouldn't have if you'd known he'd leave it to fester.

You filled in the remaining details of your patient charts, logged every prescribed medication and finished your rounds. You were ready to head home for the night, collecting your things from your desk when he appeared at your door. He was watching, like he'd caught you in his trap- again.

You hated how easily you gave in, let him have all of you without a second thought. He'd spun a web, of charming words and honeyed nicknames that made you feel warm, special. You knew it wasn't real. In your subconscious, your voice was screaming for you to let him be. To leave, before things got complicated.

"Lieutenant," You pursed your lips, still holding your bag in your hand.

"Don't have to call me that," He said, his shoulder resting against the doorframe.

"I prefer it," You said, a polite smile over your lips.

"Y'know my name."

"I do."

"Rather you use it."

"Why's that?"

"Seems right given the circumstance."

Your brows furrowed, inhaling a deep breath to keep a clear head.

"In here, you're a patient."

He hummed, unsatisfied with your answer. "Don't think it matters much."

"It does," You cocked your head, waiting for his response.

He nodded, slow, understanding but mostly combative. He was ready to put up a fight, ready to explain in detail the things he wanted to do to you. He'd never been a submissive man, nor did he often give in to things he disagreed with- but you were an exception.

"Can y'fix me up?"

You sighed. "I was going home." You dropped your bag, turning to gather supplies. "Take off your pants."

"Bloody hell, Doc. Doesn't take much, does it?"

You shot him a glare over your shoulder. "Sit down."

He was satisfied, knowing he was in your head, making your heart beat just a bit faster, your body burn with a heat of arousal. No matter the situation, Simon could bring it out of you, even against your innermost, adamant protests.

He undid his belt, his eyes on you as he pulled his pants down. He sat himself on the edge of the treatment table, hands gathered in his lap as he leaned forward to watch you. Now that he knew you felt something for him, something more than an innocent attraction, he wouldn't let you slip from his fingers.

You examined the wound, no longer fresh, though still showing the muscle beneath, pink enough that it could be re-sutured and he could be sent off with a course of antibiotics.

"You shouldn't have left it like this," You looked up at him. "It could've gotten infected- you're lucky it didn't."

His eyes hadn't left yours, aroused by the way you scolded him. Your strict voice, hand brushing the hair from your face so you could focus in on his wound- heat crept through him. You, in your element, tending to him after-hours; watching you in itself was interesting, but he liked you, not just as his doctor.

"What's the damage?" He asked.

"None that I can see," You nodded. "Stitches again, though."

He nodded, "Figured."

You huffed, your needle piercing his skin, a bit more careful with the tender flesh. Still, even as it showed an angry shade of red and had begun the healing process, he didn't say a word. No sounds of pain or discomfort, only watching you work.

"You've got nice hands," He said.

You looked up at him, quirking up a brow.

"Thanks," You smiled faintly, amused. "I'm trying to be gentle."

"Don't need gentle, y'know that by now."

You glanced up at him, shaking your head at his antics.

"You left an open wound and likely haven't been taking the pain meds I prescribed, I'll save you some of the pain."

"That ain't what I'm talkin' about," He said.

You avoided his gaze, knowing with his fine-tuned observational skills he'd surely see right through you. He had already. He'd read the flustered expression on your face with ease, finding satisfaction in making you stutter, second-guess your boundaries and feelings.

You didn't like being under the microscope, on display for him to scrutinize and tease. You were smitten yet irritated by his relentless flirting, but really, you despised how easily he could make you want him. Need him.

"It's what I'm talking about," You shot back.

"You're bein' difficult, sweetheart."

"You should be on your knees thanking me for staying to treat you," You said, raising your brows.

"Y'just have to ask," He shifted backwards onto his hands.

You exhaled, "You're insatiable." Your eyes lifted to his as you yanked the suture material through his wound.

"Can't blame me. Y'should see your face."

"What's my face?" You asked, your lips lifting to a hardly-noticeable smile.

He leaned forward. "Had that same look on your face when I had my tongue-"

"Simon." Your voice was low, threatening.

You kicked the door shut, leaning back on your stool as you stared up at him.

"I like when you say my name, Doc."

"You're a patient, Lieutenant. You want anything other than medical attention, you can find me after work."

You finished the last of your knots, tightening it slowly, finally bringing the separated pieces of flesh together with focused precision.

You stood from the stool, sliding the gloves off your hands, throwing away the disposable items.

He leaned in, grabbing hold of your thighs to pull you closer before you could step further away.

"You're off the clock, ain't you?"

You sighed, "Yes, but we're still in my office."

"Think you like bein' a bit filthy, Doc," He mumbled, dragging you in to stand between his thighs. "You sayin' y'don't want me to fuck you on this table?"

Your lips parted in shock, your chest tightening at the vivid imagery his words created in your mind. Heat crept over your face, engulfing your entire body just moments later. He was right. He was also charming- too much so for his own good, and dangerously so for your sake. It didn't take much for him to break down your adamant denial, the rigid rules you had in place.

Truthfully, you wanted nothing more than to give in. But a small part of you knew that if it breached the inside of your office walls, it wouldn't be a fleeting hook-up. You'd be reminded every time you came to work. You'd want more, more than 'house-calls' and tending to his wounds.

It was, in part, why you were a bit grateful he hadn't visited you sooner. Had he, you would've given in at the first sight of an invitation. But some time apart allowed you to keep a sliver of your dignity, your composure.

You sighed, "We can't."

"We can."

"I can't- with a patient."

"I ain't just a patient."

"You are."

"You want me to take you out, Doc? Go for dinner together?" He was without a doubt, grinning like mad beneath his mask.

"No- I'm saying we do this, in here- I can't be your doctor anymore. At least not just your doctor."

"That s'posed to stop me?"

"It should. You're not that kind of man."

He shook his head. "You ever ask me what I want?"

You sighed, defeated. "No, I guess I didn't."

You should've known better than to feed into the gossip, the rumours that spread about him. He wasn't the scary, mean man people had made him out to be. You couldn't help it, not with the aura of disconnection and indifference that poured off of him. You didn't expect anything more from him, nothing aside from sexual gratification.

"I want you."

You sucked in a breath, holding it while you searched for a coherent sentence to blurt out.

He scanned your face, realizing quickly that you'd been silenced by his confession. He pulled you in closer, close enough for your hands to reach his shoulders for balance.

"In every way."

You peered down at him, lips inches from his while you debated on your next course of action. He didn't allow for much deliberation, lifting his mask with the crook of his thumb, leaning closer to press his lips to yours.

You attempted to step back, but his hold was suffocatingly strong.

"Simon," You murmured against his lips. "Your leg," You looked down at the irritated wound.

"I've been takin' your damn meds, Y/N," He said, his hand travelling to your backside. "Now come 'ere."

He pulled you onto his thighs, your legs straddling his waist as he brought his lips to your neck, attacking your flesh with greedy kisses. He undid the sweater you wore, yanking your scrubs over your head.

You were panting, breathing heavily with arousal that was festering in your stomach. Every part of you wanted desperately to give in to your desires, regardless of the consequences that might come after.

His lips moved from the silky skin of your neck to bite the protruding flesh of your breasts, still contained by your bra. You couldn't help but push your chest forward, your hands moving behind your back to unclasp your bra, letting it slide off your arms.

His hands cupped them with gentleness, his eyes attached to yours as his lips engulfed the sensitive, perky nipples before him. Your head fell back, your hands grasping at his shoulders as he ran his tongue across them, teeth grazing them softly. He smiled faintly every time you'd whimper, bring your chest closer to his lips.

"I-I shouldn't- You shouldn't-"

He silenced your stuttering with another kiss- harsh and dominating, his hand lifting to your jaw, tilting your head.

"Y'don't stop talkin' do you?"

"I'm trying," You whispered, his nose nearly touching yours.

"Told you, I want you. Nothin' to talk about."

You breathed in, inhaling his scent, his words. Your fingers played with the few locks of hair peeking out from beneath the mask at the nape of his neck.

His eyes were dark, half-shut with the arousal pumping through his veins. You could see them clearly now, the freckles around his eyelids and the blonde eyelashes that kissed his cheeks with every lazy blink.

You'd been convinced, thoroughly, that it could work- would work. That he meant what he'd said. It was entirely believable, with the way his hands held your body, the way his lips savoured every inch of your skin.

It didn't matter now, you were already condemned to giving yourself to him. You had been desperately holding on to the last shred of self-control, but it quickly withered away with his touch.

"Touch me," You breathed, your head lifting to lock eyes with him. "I need you."

He pulled you in, your ass grinding against his crotch, and let his fingers slide under your waistband. He had a firm hold on your backside, squeezing a handful of the soft flesh, his other hand finding your clit, his fingers rubbing over it generously.

Your mouth fell open, your eyes poring into his as he moved his fingers in circles, using your sticky arousal to help glide over your clit smoothly.

His fingers would dip inside you, slowly, introducing them with a teasing glimpse of pleasure, then he'd pull back out.

"Look at you," He whispered. "I like seein' you like this. Squirmin' on my fingers."

You pressed your lips against his again- craving the connection, praising him for his sweet words. You slid your tongue across his, savouring the softness of his mouth.

He stood to his feet, turning you to face the examination table, his hands gliding over your hips, your stomach.

"Bend over," He whispered- it was abrasive in your ear, the gruffness in his voice. It coaxed goosebumps from your skin, a fuse lighting up through your spine.

You did, letting your hands rest on the table as your eyes peered over your shoulder at him.

He pulled your scrubs down your legs, chuckling when he saw the panties you had on.

"Black?" He teased. "'S that lace?"

Your cheeks radiated with warmth, hiding your bashful smile against your shoulder.

He hummed, "You are filthy, Doc."

His calloused hands slid across the round flesh of your backside, moulding it against his palms. He slid your panties down your legs, his hands gliding down your soft skin. Defying all stereotypes, he was soft, a bit rough around the edges but your pleasure was his ultimate goal.

"You gonna let me fuck you?" He asked, his palm brushing over your spine.

You exhaled, nodding.

He exhaled himself, pulling his briefs down just enough to free his cock, running his hand up and down it a few times while enjoying the vision before him.

His hand gripped your hip, the other guiding his cock into the slick warmth of your pussy, his head rolling back.

Your back arched further into the cool metal of the table, your lungs collapsing with the sharp exhale- a gasp of pleasure that left your lips. You turned over your shoulder to look at him, watching his eyes. He suddenly locked his gaze with yours, pushing his hips forward, in turn pushing himself deeper inside you.

"Keep those eyes on me," He mumbled, letting both his hands fall to your hips as he pulled you into his pelvis. "Fuck me."

Another grunt came from his chest when your body bounced forward. His grip tightened, rolling his hips into your backside.

You could feel your stomach tightening, and you lowered yourself to lie flat, your cheek pressed against the table. You spread your thighs further apart, earning a slap over your ass.

"Y'like this, don't you?" He asked, leaning over you.

His voice travelled in the small room, consuming you, earning a moan from your parted lips.

"You like bein' bent over," He breathed in. "Fuckin' filthy."

You groaned softly, listening to his tone, feeling his cock slide in and out of you with ease.

"Yes," You whimpered, choked with the overwhelming pleasure in your stomach. "Fuck- yes, Simon."

At the sound of his name from your lips, he nearly growled- possessive and pleased.

"That's it- say my fuckin' name."

He pressed his chest flat against your back, his hand reaching under to find your clit. His gloved fingers circled the sensitive bud, your body twitching with every movement, fighting off the desire to cum.

"Simon, please," You whispered- hardly audible under the strain in your voice. "Please don't stop."

"'S right, gi'me this cunt," He groaned. "Give it to me."

You were tense, rigid, with every thrust of his hips, his cock grazing your cervix, plunging deeply inside you. As he dragged his hips back, hitting the wall of your G-spot- his fingers still stroking the swollen, sensitive organ at the crest of your pussy- you cried out softly.

Your head rolled further to the side, your eyes barely opening as you turned your gaze to see his watching your every move. It only made him work harder, move faster to please you- to feel you.

Your stomach was burning- a searing temperature only rising with every passing moment. Your thighs were shaking, your hands holding onto his that were gripping your waist.

"Simon," You gulped, your throat dry. "Please, Simon."

His eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head, listening to you call for him- beg him for more. He'd oblige, always, over and over again.

He said your name, rough with strain, between quiet gasps of pleasure. Your pussy fit around him so well, your walls collapsing in every time he'd flick his fingers over your clit.

Your body was contorted, your torso twisted to watch him. He could easily see your breasts recoiling with every thrust, your hips moving in his hand.

"Go on and cum, Y/N," He grunted in your ear. "Cum on it, love."

His encouragement pushed you over the edge, your pussy constricting around his cock, pulsating with the sporadic waves of pleasure overtaking your abdomen. You trembled, your thighs threatening to give out beneath you as he continued his vigorous thrusts into you.

"Fuck that's good," He grunted, pulling you back to meet his hips.

He was a bit rougher now, exhaling harshly against your neck as he tilted his head to watch you. Your eyes met his, soft and pleading, glassy with orgasmic bliss.

He didn't ask this time, he just buried himself deeper inside you, his cock twitching as he released his cum in you.

He stood still for a minute, catching his breath, appreciating the velvety walls of your pussy, careful not to overstimulate himself.

You exhaled, your hands landing on the table. He stepped back, pulling his briefs back over his groin. He took a nearby hand towel, running it between your thighs in an attempt to help you clean up.

You'd dressed back in your scrubs, and he stood in the corner, watching you gather your things.

"Come back to mine," He said, moving toward you as soon as he saw you grab your keys. "We'll get a bite on the way."

You bit the inside of your cheek, ruminating on his tempting offer, your eyes meeting his.

"Okay," You nodded. A moment passed in silence, before you moved forward. "Let's go."

#cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod mwii #mwii #simon riley #strlingsavwrites #ghost x you

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fortheloveofwonderland · 2 months

Text

Darkness Declares Glory | Chapter 23 FINAL | S.R

Previous Chapter

A/N - final chapter! This one skips forward a couple of months.

Chapter Summary - Spencer’s friends join him celebrating a milestone in his sobriety and Luke has a special surprise in store for him to commemorate the occasion.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | eventual happy ending.

Warnings - rehab, swearing, making out, lots of fluff. WC - 3k

Chapter 23 - Long Promised Road

Crescent Oak Rehabilitation Facility was more or less exactly what Spencer imagined a rehab centre to be like. It was almost eerily calming, his first few weeks here he’d almost been on edge by just how serene it was.

There was always some kind of soft music playing from speakers he often couldn’t even see. Meditation was highly encouraged, as were walks in the zen garden. Patients were required to wear all white linens and white canvas shoes. The only good thing was that he was here voluntarily, so if he wanted to leave he could. And a few times he almost did.

At first Spencer couldn’t help but wonder what the fuck he’d done. He felt more as though he’d joined a cult than checked into a rehab facility. For at least a week, maybe longer he considered leaving every single day. But he just kept telling himself, give it one more day, it will get better. Just one more day.

Around the middle of his second week Spencer found he woke up one day and didn’t hate it here. He didn’t begrudge getting in his white linens, he hummed along to the soft music playing through mysterious speakers and he actively joined in a meditation session. And ever since then he’d felt oddly at peace at Crescent Oaks.

He met with a therapist once a day, one on one, no group sessions thank god. He ate his three meals, he showered every day without fuss. He partook in arts and crafts, read in the library and went on nature walks. And not only did he tolerate it, he actually liked it.

Thankfully he’d gotten over the hardest part of his recovery in comas and catatonic states. He still had the occasional withdrawal and of course there were still days when he wanted to use. But they were few and far between these days.

He’d initially checked himself in for three months - he wanted to reach his six month milestone before he even considered going it alone. After those three months he had the option to stay for as long as he thought he needed. It was comforting to know he wouldn’t be on his own.

His old team visited every chance they could. Crescent Oaks allowed visitors every day between the hours of six pm and nine pm and he had a visitor at least four times a week if not more. Usually it was Garcia when the team were on cases and they would take walks together and chat aimlessly amongst themselves.

His wounds were slowly starting to heal, both the mental and physical ones. Of course his scars remained and always would but Spencer now looked at them like they were badges of honour, proof he survived the worst life had to throw at him. He was proud to wear them for the world to see.

Luke continued to see Y/N. He hadn’t told Spencer at first but Spencer could just tell. And once he got over his initial jealousy he had actually been pleased that you had someone like Luke in your life.

He didn’t let himself ask about you, despite the fact he was always thinking about you. Sometimes Luke would say, “I saw Y/N yesterday,” and Spencer would nod and smile and change the subject.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk about you, because he did. But talking about you often left Spencer feeling miserable with how much he missed you and right now he only had the brain capacity to focus on one area of his life. And that had to be his recovery this time.

He still wore your bracelet. Maybe one day he’d take it off, but for now he found comfort in it. It made him feel connected to you in the way he hoped having his one year sober chip felt for you. It was some kind of reminder that the two of you were still entwined, bound to each other in ways even he didn’t truly understand.

When Luke had told him a few weeks after he checked into Crescent Oaks that you’d been to visit him while he was catatonic, he’d been at a complete loss for words. He must have disassociated by the point as he had absolutely no recollection of you being there.

He hated that he couldn’t remember something so important but maybe it had been a blessing in disguise. If he’d been conscious of you being there while he was trapped inside the shell of his body that wouldn’t move to his command, he would have hated Luke for bringing you there.

But knowing you had been there was comforting in a way, it meant you still cared. Maybe one day he’d get the chance to thank you.

***

Spencer was mildly overwhelmed at all the eyes that were on him, shrinking in on himself a little and wrapping his arms around himself. He’d never liked to be the centre of attention, but there was no getting out of this. He’d asked his therapist if they could just make it a lowkey affair but she simply smiled and shook her head.

“Trust me, Spencer, in the months or years to come, you will be glad you marked this milestone with all your closest friends.”

He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, averting his gaze to the floor as his therapist stood and addressed the room.

“Thank you all for being here, this is a big day in Spencer’s recovery and having all his friends here means the world to him. Even if it doesn’t seem like it.” Jessica laughed slightly as did the others in the room. All except for Spencer. “He’s told me all about his long struggle with drug abuse and his mental health and I for one am so proud of him for getting here. The first six months are the hardest on the road to recovery and so I am overjoyed to be able to present him with his six month chip.”

Jessica cleared her throat when she finished speaking and Spencer tentatively glanced up at her, still chewing frantically on his lip. She was holding out his new golden chip, motioning for him to stand and join her. He swallowed thickly, pushing himself up to his feet and shuffling over to her.

“Uh, thanks.” His cheeks burned as he took the chip from her hand and rolled it between his fingers.

“Speech!” Luke hollered with a chuckle.

“Come on kid, we didn’t come all the way out here for nothing.” Rossi goaded him.

“After all we’ve done for you, it's the least you can do.” Tara teased.

Spencer finally looked up, glancing at the seven faces in the room. The seven people he loved most in the world who had gone to the ends of the earth to help him on every step of his recovery. These seven people were the reason he was still standing, the reason he was able to stand here today and proclaim that he was six months sober.

“I hate being the centre of attention. And I hate public speaking.” he scuffed the toe of his converse on the worn carpet. “But I guess I do owe you, honestly I don’t think I will ever be able to put into words just how much. Without each of you, I know for a fact I wouldn’t be here, I would most likely be dead. I know I’ve been difficult to be around, I know I’ve given you all a hard time but for some reason you’ve stuck by me and I am so grateful for that, you have no idea.

I don’t know how exactly I got so lucky as to have you all in my life. And I certainly don’t tell you all enough just how much I love and appreciate you all. To be able to stand here and say I am officially six months sober, I wouldn’t have made it here without each and every one of you. Emily, Luke, the two of you probably got the brunt of my frustrations and anger and I am really very sorry for that. But between the two of you, uh, you…” He got choked up and swallowed, closing his eyes as he finished the sentence. “The two of you saved my life. And I don’t even know how to begin thanking you for that.”

When he opened his eyes his tears overflowed and he noticed several of his old team had also gotten teary eyed. JJ and Garcia were holding hands, both crying as they looked at him. Luke’s eyes were glossy with unshed and Emily turned her head to wipe her eyes.

“I, uh, I guess that’s it.” Spencer sniffed, running his thumb over the chip’s engraving. “I still don’t know what normal feels like but I, uh, feel decent.”

The seven of them, plus Jessica, started clapping loudly, cheering and Matt even whistled. Spencer smiled, wiping his eyes with his free hand while his cheeks flushed pink. One by one they came over and hugged him tightly, congratulating him on this huge achievement.

“What are your plans, Reid?” Matt was the one to ask the million dollar question while they all crowded around him.

“I think I’m gonna stay here, just a little longer. I don’t think I’d relapse if I left now but I just wanna be sure.” He pocketed the chip but kept his hand wrapped around it.

“I think that’s both smart and brave of you to admit.” Tara smiled at him.

“We are so, so proud of you Spence.” JJ still had tears in her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah alright.” He rolled his eyes with a soft chuckle. “Can we turn the attention on someone else now?”

The seven members of his old team looked between each other, slightly guilty looks on their faces that weren’t lost on Spencer. He frowned, looking between them in turn while he tried to figure out what was going on.

“What’s happening?” He asked no one in particular. “I’ve missed something.”

“I mean now you’ve mentioned turning the attention onto someone else, we do kinda have a surprise visitor for you.” Luke spoke, giving him a sheepish smile.

But Spencer could tell exactly what he wasn’t saying. His brain was so much clearer these days, it was almost working back at its full capacity and he knew what, or rather who Luke was referring to.

“No.” Spencer shook his head, his stomach coiling into knots and more tears flooded his vision. “No way.”

Penelope smiled brightly, tottering over to the door on her too high heels and slowly gripping the handle. Spencer stared at the closed door, tears rolling silently down his cheeks and he inadvertently held his breath.

Garcia leisurely opened the door, clearing trying to build the suspense, which admittedly worked. Spencer’s heart hammered rapantly against his chest, causing him to feel a little nauseous. His hands were shaking, he worried his knees might buckle beneath him.

When the door was finally all the way open, you stepped into view, teeth digging heavily into your bottom lip and your hands stuffed deep inside of your pockets. As soon as you locked eyes on him, your own tears overflowed but you found yourself frozen to the spot.

When Luke had told you over coffee one afternoon that Spencer was due to celebrate his six months sober and invited you to come, initially you’d quickly declined and shut the conversation down. You were doing well in the outside world, still living at the halfway house and enjoying your job at the diner.

You were keeping yourself afloat but the idea of seeing Spencer again was too much for you to even contemplate. Not now. Maybe not ever. You were eleven months sober, you couldn’t risk any bump in that road.

You still weren’t sure, as you stood here now, what changed your mind. Luke hadn’t pressured you to come, he’d never mentioned it again after the first time. But the overwhelming need to see him with your own eyes, to confirm he was in fact alive and ok had driven you to be here today. It had only been yesterday when Luke popped by the diner for dinner that you’d told him you would come.

And now as you stared at Spencer from the doorway, you knew you’d made the right call. Seeing him looking healthy and happy filled you with pride and the last thing you wanted to do was ruin your sobriety. You wanted to be sober alongside him.

“Y/N.” He croaked out your name, wobbling a little on his feet.

“Hi Spence.” Your voice cracked.

“We’ll give you two a minute.” Emily spoke on behalf of her team and the seven of them, and Jessica, left the room as you took a few steps inside.

The door was closed behind you as you cautiously approached Spencer. He didn’t move, seemingly frozen to the spot. You noticed the frayed end of your purple and gold bracelet poking out the sleeve of his sweater and it filled you with joy to know he still wore it.

“I, uh, I hope you don’t mind me coming. Luke invited me and at first I didn’t think it would be a good idea but…” you trailed off, sniffing back your tears. “But I really wanted to see you.”

“Are you really here?” Spencer choked. “I’m not imagining things?”

You smiled at him, cautiously stepping closer to him. You were steady in your movements as you reached out and took hold of his hand. You brought his hand to your lips and pressed them against his knuckles softly. The action caused Spencer to whimper slightly, even more tears now falling from his eyes.

“Do you believe me? I’m really here, Spence.” You were still holding his hand and he used it to pull you closer to him.

Your chests crashed together, and he used his free hand to wrap around your waist, his large hand taking purchase on your lower back while he kept hold of your hand in his other. You looked up at him and he was smiling down on you. You could feel his heart beating against you and you were sure he could feel yours. He bowed his head closer to you, resting your foreheads together.

“I might need a little more convincing.” His lip tugged into a smirk and before you knew what you were doing, you were crushing your lips together.

Spencer hummed into your mouth, holding you firmly in place while parting your lips with his tongue. The kiss was like nothing the two of you had ever shared before. It was a new beginning, a fresh start. It was hope and it was home all in one.

It didn’t last particularly long, but the passion between the two of you was clear. When he pulled back he kept his arm around you, but let go of your hand in lieu of cupping your cheek.

“I think…I think I’m bound to you.” You whispered shakily. “I probably have been since the moment we met. I think I meant what I said before about us, at least at the time I did. But I can’t imagine my life without you in it, Spence.”

“You don’t have to.” He stroked your cheek with his fingertips. “I think we were meant to find each other, Y/N. I think in some kind of fucked up way, the two of us are perfect for each other. On paper, two addicts shouldn’t work together, but I think we can be the exception to that. I don’t believe we will pull each other down, I think we’ll only raise the other up. Our sobriety is so important to both of us, I truly believe we can aid each other through recovery.”

“I think so too.” You nodded. “Spence, I love you.”

He felt his heart swell to double the size and he held you tighter, almost impossibly closer to him.

“I feel like I’ve loved you my whole life.” He confessed, brushing his lips over yours.

“I may not have loved you for my whole life, but I know for a fact that I will love you for the rest of my life.” You breathed him in, knowing that you only had a limited amount of time together for now.

“The minute I get out of here I am taking you to dinner. The most incredible dinner you’ve ever had in your life.” He smiled at you, chuckling lightly.

“I will hold you to that.” You laughed too.

He kissed you again, somehow more passionate than the last which seemed impossible but yet here you were. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers grazing the hair at the base of his neck. He moaned softly into your mouth at the sensation but tried to keep himself from getting too riled up. There would be plenty of time for that once he left Crescent Oaks. For now he had to keep it PG13.

When the kiss broke he looked you deep in the eyes, right through to your soul. It caused your knees to buckle a little and Spencer smiled, helping you remain upright. His other hand joined his first on your face, cupping it lightly and wiping at your tears with his thumbs.

“For so long all I’ve seen is darkness,” he whispered, staring deep into your eyes. “But you, angel, you are and always have been my guiding light.”

With that he kissed you once more, all his love and adoration for you communicated without the use of words. You’d gotten used to your life being shrouded in darkness, almost grown accustomed to it in a weird way.

But Spencer had shined a light on you that was so bright it had banished all of your demons to the shadows. It wasn’t to say they would never rear their ugly heads, but as long as Spencer was by your side fighting them with you, it didn’t seem so daunting anymore.

“The darkness declares the glory of light.” - T.S Eliot

@tiredmilky @thatsonezesty13 @1mechanicalalligator @elle-28 @academiareid

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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amethystwrytes · 9 days

Text

-If I Had Asked-

Pairing: Jungkook x genderless reader

Genre: Romantic. Hurt. Comfort. Fluff. Exes to lovers. Oneshot.

Summary: Jungkook wants to catch up at a mutual friends birthday party.

Warnings: Language. Alcohol consumption and marijuana use.

Inspired by this prompt.

WC: 1.5K

Jungkook weaves in and out of the throng of people in the small apartment. Seokjin had insisted on a small party, but as usual he’d gotten carried away and vastly overestimated the capacity of his flat.

Jungkook can pretend to be outgoing, a crowd lover, if the occasion calls for it, but in truth he feels like his skin is crawling every time he brushes up against a stranger. Normally he would’ve left after wishing his elder a happy birthday and leaving his present, a compilation book of Marvels 100 best comics, on the counter.

However, he has it on good authority that Seokjin invited you here tonight, and that you’d said yes.

Jungkook hasn’t seen you since you packed your shit and left his apartment over a year ago. You hadn’t been the least bit unserious when you told him you were done, you really had been. It took Jungkook a long time to realize that he probably should’ve gone after you. Too long. By the time it had occurred to him, six months had passed, you were seeing someone else, and his window had closed.

He was immature with you, and maybe a year doesn’t make anyone wiser, but he’s learned a lot since then. Like how prioritizing everything over you because he just assumed you’d always be around was his biggest mistake.

His third circle of Jins apartment has him wondering if Namjoon had been wrong - you actually had no plans to come. Then he hears it. He would know your laugh in any universe. If he were in a coma he’d still hear it. It makes his heart ache.

You’re out on the terrace. A vodka cranberry, that’s probably more cranberry than anything, in one hand, a joint in the other. You’re chatting with Jimin, probably catching up, but like an invisible string is tethered, you turn your head and make eye contact with Jungkook through the glass. He see's you tense up for just a second, then you turn back to Jimin, looking like you're about to make a quick exit.

He can't have that.

Jungkook shimmies through the crowd and slides through the door. Jimin notices the change in the very air out on the terrace.

"Jungkook, long time no see," he says, trying to keep it light and charming, but the thick cloud of awkward is expanding by the second.

You look over the terrace out into the darkness, taking a long drag off the joint and blowing it into the air.

"Yeah," Jungkook shrugs, "I've been working a lot, not really had the energy for hanging out."

"For sure," Jimin nods. Then silence ensues. The noise from the party, lulled by the closed terrace door buzzes and beckons. "I'm going to go find Seokjin, see how drunk he is," Jimin jokes and the two of you offer up some forced laughter.

"Here," you say, handing him the joint, "I think I'm good."

Jimin takes it, offers it briefly to Jungkook who shakes his head no, then places it between his lips before retreating indoors like the terrace is on fire.

"Hi," Jungkook finally says.

"Hey there," you reply.

"Why is this so uncomfortable?" he laughs, taking the spot beside you to look out into the night. City lights dot the horizon like blinking stars and he focuses on one that seems to flash on and off every couple of seconds.

"I don't know," you finally answer, "I think these things are always awkward."

"What things?"

"Seeing your ex at a party for the first time since splitting," you clarify. "Though you'd think a years time would've papered over some of those cracks."

"I'm sorry," Jungkook offers, the list of things he owes you an apology for is too long though, "Sorry for letting a year go by without speaking."

"It's fine," you say flatly. "How have you been? Seeing anyone?" you mentally slap yourself for adding that last bit. That opens up a whole conversation that you'd rather not have.

"I've been fine, I guess. Kind of just going through the motions of life, really. Neutral I suppose is the best way to describe it," he says, "and no. I was seeing someone for a bit, but...I don't know. It just fizzled out as quick as it started."

"That's too bad," you say, though you don't sound the least bit interested. You take another sip of your drink and you wish you'd asked Jin for an extra shot of vodka now.

"How's Taehyung? I didn't see him tonight," Jungkook wonders, waits for your answer with bated breath.

"He uh..." you chuckle dryly looking into your cup, "He's in Japan. Took a promotion in the company but had to relocate. He asked me to go...but..."

"You didn't?" Jungkook finishes. "Why not?"

"You know how ill my grandma is," you smile sadly, "I didn't think it was a good idea to leave."

"Are they not taking good care of her at the assisted living place?"

"They are," you nod, "but still."

"So, did you guys like, break up? Or are you doing the long distance thing?" he presses.

"Is this why you came out here? To ask me if I'm still seeing Taehyung?" you wonder, not bothering to hide the confusion or irritation.

Jungkook shakes his head, "I came out here to just talk, ___. That's what I'm doing."

You sigh. "No. We're not doing the long distance thing. We decided it would be better if we ended it, well, he decided," you laugh bitterly. "Though to be fair I think it was less of a 'hard versus easy’ issue, and more of a 'he wanted to be able to fuck whomever he wanted without having to feel guilty for it' issue."

"I'm sorry," Jungkook offers genuinely.

"Why?" you snap your head over to him, "I figured you'd be pleased with that outcome. After all I basically did the same thing to you."

"You didn't dump me so you could fuck other people without feeling guilty," he reminds you, then after a long pause adds, "Right?"

You laugh. "No, that's not why I broke up with you."

"You weren't happy," he says.

"I felt like I was your parent, you treated me like someone who was supposed to cater to your every need and like my job, my dreams were second to yours. That made me unhappy. That wasn't very fair."

"No, it wasn't. I acted like that because that's what I thought a grown up relationship was, that's what I wanted it to be."

"That's unhealthy," you tell him.

"I know," he nods, "and you told me that then as well."

"You never seemed to hear me," you recall. "That's why I left."

"I know," he nods, "You weren't the villain, but I made you into one for a long time. I've always been taken care of, with my family, with my friends - I'm always the one taken care of, and it took me a long time to grow out of that. To realize that a relationship is partnership, you hear people say it all the time but it's easy to gloss over what that really means. I should've realized then, I should've heard you, but instead I just acted stupid, clueless."

"Thank you. That means a lot," you say, trying to fend off the tears.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"If I had asked, would you have stayed?" he looks at you, faces his whole body toward you so you do the same.

You think about it for a moment then shrug, "You didn't ask Jungkook. So I guess we'll never know."

You finish off your drink and turn the empty plastic cup over in your hand. "I need to go throw this away. I should really get going anyway."

He stands there defeated and nods.

"It was good seeing you Jungkook," you lay your hand on his shoulder, "Take care of yourself."

He stands there, listens as you slide the glass door, the dulled party buzzes to life, then lulls back out again, signaling you've made it inside and left him out on the terrace alone.

"Wait!" he yells, turning on his heels and pulling the heavy door. "___! Wait!"

You stop and turn towards his voice, along with the entire room. Everyone goes silent as they all look between the two of you.

"I'm asking now," he says, disregarding the audience.

You stare at him, skin hot from the gazes around the room. You rake your hand through your hair, letting it fall like a curtain around your face.

Jungkook crosses the room, eliminating the open stage that your interaction has turned into. He walks you back into a hallway that leads to Jins bedroom and bath. He backs you all the way up to the wall, his tattooed arms caging you in, shielding you from the onlookers who slowly, but surely, turn back into their own conversations.

"Are you drunk?" you ask.

"What?"

"Are you drunk?" you repeat, breathlessly.

"No," he shakes his head, "I had a coke, I have to be at work in the morning."

You nod. Your hands find purchase on his forearms and you uncage yourself, your fingertips sliding down his arm, tracing over your favorite, familiar ink, then intertwine with his.

You look up into his dark brown eyes, and smile, "Then drive me home."

#bts fanfiction #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #romance #Jungkook x reader #writing #BTS fanfic #ignoring my current projects #trying to write through the block of cement my brain has turned into #exes to lovers #ex boyfriend Jungkook #these tags are wild af

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lanitalay · 11 days

Text

Supernatural 2

in which you encounter a couple of hunters on a case

Azriel x reader

a/n: babes I'm alive. I have been traveling for a while and have not had the mental capacity to write anything but here is a lil fic to remind you I'm still here lol

warnings: angst, canon typical violence

wordcount:1.5k

Part 1

When three loud knocks rattle the dingy motel room door, Azriel rolls his eyes. He noticed you left your keys behind and when you did not come back he assumed you had gone to Dean. The night was spent in itchy sheets, tossing and turning to the thought of you in another’s bed. Before he opened the door, he steeled his face, wiping away any semblance of care or concern.

“Open up, pretty boy!”

Weird. “Dean?”

“Is y/n with you?” The eldest Winchester barges in. “Y/n!”

“I thought she was with you.” Guilt bites Azriel’s mouth as Dean shows him the cracked screen of a phone. Your phone. “Where did you find that?” Your partner snatches it out of the practical stranger’s hands.

“Sammy and I went to the lobby to ask for more shampoo because someone refuses to get a haircut.” Sam huffs and finishes the explanation “there was nobody there, but we found her phone. It looked like it had been thrown against the wall or something.”

Azriel couldn’t understand. Had you gotten that fed up with him? Had last night been the last straw for you? Had you broken your phone, the only thing keeping you on the grid, to spite him? He could almost hear you say “have it your way.”

“Azriel?” Sam’s voice shakes him.

“She left.”

“What?” It was Dean this time, bewildered. “Listen, we looked around the desk and found the ledger. Take a look.” Azriel’s mind was reeling and this guy wanted him to look at a ledger? He strained his eyes to focus on the wonky lettering. Amelia Johnson, Benjamin Parker, Chloe Thompson, Dominic Rodriguez, Emma Smith, Finnegan O'Connor…

“Why are you showing me this?” His world had just fallen apart and these guys wanted to work a case?

Dean groans.“Clearly Y/n is the brains in your operation, take a closer look.”

Azriel rereads: Room 9, Amelia Johnson, Benjamin Parker, Chloe Thompson, Dominic Rodriguez, Emma Smith, Finnegan O'Connor, Azriel Singer, Y/n Y/l/n.

Oh.

Crap.

“Crap, crap, crap.” You take in the gray bodies of people you had been trying to save for a week. Your arm hurt, a lot. Because of how you were tied you couldn’t look to see what had been done to it. But based on how your vision blurred at the edges, you deduced that blood had been drawn and based on how difficult it was to breathe, it had been a lot.

The motel attendant walks in. With all the strength you can muster you spit at it. For what it did to those people, for what this would do to Azriel. He flashes his fangs. A warning.

“I must say, your blood is particularly delectable.” He rips your sore arm from its binding and jams a needle in it. Blinding pain shoots to your neck, up to your throat and a meek whimper escapes you. It was like he pierced your soul. For a second you think he’s draining more than just blood. Before a coherent thought can form your consciousness gives way to darkness.

“She’s gotta be here. There must be a basement or cellar or backroom or-” Azriel is rambling, scouring through files and cursing himself for not having the blueprints to the motel. He had spent so much time in the archives and didn’t even think to get them.

“Azriel, she’ll be ok. We will search this place up and down until we find her. But right now we have to sharpen our machetes and come up with a plan.” Sam said while Dean had already begun working on his weapon.

An hour later they had set out to the lobby.

No one was at the front desk. The hunters quickly made their way to the back room. It was set up as an office. Papers piled sky high, most of them blank. Sam opened a door labeled “storage” and cursed when he shone a flashlight down a steep set of stairs. “Guys, over here.” He whispered. Vampires are heavy sleepers, especially after a meal but they needed to be careful. Azriel tightens his grip on his machete and follows Sam down, Dean watching his back.

When they reach the landing, distant snoring lets them know they are not alone. There are two doors. Sam presses his ear against one and nods to the others, confirming that it's clear. He opens it, cringing at the squeak. Every damn hinge in this place is rusty. Azriel walks in, flashlight landing on a limp figure. A silhouette he could recognize anywhere, even as it was awkwardly hunched forward. He goes to check your pulse and sighs when he finds it. Weak, but there.

“Hey, y/n, it's me. We’re gonna get you out of here.” Azriel whispers to your unconscious form while he tears through the ropes that secure you to the chair. Sam and Dean at your flank. He cuts through the bindings of your right arm, cursing to see it discolored, practically mauled. When he moves it from your back to your front you shriek. Even with the gentleness of his touch your limb felt like it was on fire. The shriek turned into muffled moaning as Azriel covered your mouth with his hand. “Shhh, shhh, we have to be quiet.”

But the warning was issued in vain. The motel attendant and the janitor were in the room in a matter of seconds. Engaging both winchesters in combat. “Get her out, Az!” Dean shouted through the slashing of machetes against the metal chair the vampire was using as a weapon.

“I’m sorry if this hurts.” Azriel apologizes as he cuts through the last of the rope and picks you up, aiming to lunge up the stairs. Before he can begin the climb though, the janitor throws Sam across the room and into the pair of you. Azriel does his best to shield your head from the blow. In the beat that it takes Sam to recover the janitor is on you, yanking you away from Azriel and piercing the delicate flesh of your neck with its fangs.

It's all Azriel sees as he storms forward, swinging his machete like a Tasmanian devil. The janitor is so enthralled by your blood he reacts too late to the blow that severs his head from his body. Your legs give out and Azriel lurches forward to catch you, looking back to Sam who says “go, I’ll finish the job with Dean.”

You woke up in pain. But you woke up in a bed to worried hazel eyes. “Az? Az! The manager and the janitor-”

“I know, Sam and Dean are dealing with them now.”

“And the people..?”

He shook his head. It was a confirmation of what you had already known, but it did not hurt any less.

Azriel laid down next to you, offering his shoulder for you to lean on. Quiet tears streamed down your face. It was long before he broke the silence “we need to get you to a hospital.”

Just then, Sam and Dean walked back, covered in blood and clothes tattered to bits.

“That last sucker put up one hell of a fight.”

“I’m gonna take y/n to the hospital, thank you for every-”

Dean waved his hands “no no, we got a guy for that. Let me call Cas.”

Azriel and you share a look before you ask. “You know Cass?”

Sam and Dean share a look. “You know Cas?”

“We know Cass, but you wouldn’t actually call him for medical attention.”

“Then it’s not the same Cas. Give me a minute.” He never takes out his phone but before you can remark on the effectiveness of his call a flash of light blinds you and at the foot of the bed stands a stoic man in a trench coat.

“What the hell…”

“Castiel this is Azriel and Y/n. Guys this is Cas, he’s an angel.” Dean’s shit eating grin makes you want to slap him.

“Dean said that you needed healing?”

You look at your bloodied body and nod.

“This will hurt, but it will be over quickly.” He places a hand on your head and molten energy courses through your veins. It feels like your body will combust from it. In a second it's over though and you are left in a panting mess, no gashes anywhere on your body.

You pack up quickly after that. Promising the boys you will stay in touch and reach out if you ever need help.

Soon enough you and Azriel are back in the front seat on his truck.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“About last night-”

“I know.” You lean into him, placing a kiss on his cheek. “I think there's a case in Florida, I was just reading an article about…”

You knew the conversation had to happen at some point. Someone was bound to give in or to give up. But there were monsters out there and also, apparently, angels.

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 2 years

Text

Bring me a dream

Part 2: Cherry Cheescake

Status: Ongoing

Masterlist

Pairing: The Corinthian x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, smut, horror elements, manipulation

-🍰-

You spent all day on a knife edge. You couldn’t take your mind off of the ‘date’ you were to go on that night. At least, that was what you’d told Casey when she asked why you were flitting around the kitchen, baking all manner of different tray bakes and cakes. Your human companion was less than pleased that her kitchen was rendered unusable for breakfast before her work, but you didn’t have the mental capacity to think about that.

“Oh my god, will you stop already!”

You looked up from the messily iced cupcake you’d been working on and faced your roommate, looking into her incensed green eyes. Your hands shook for a second, continuing to pipe out icing until finally Casey reached out and snatched the bag from you. It left you standing like a hamster with your hands still in position, staring ahead into the abyss.

“What’s up with you? This should be exciting! You’ve never even talked about fancying a single man or woman, or anyone since I’ve known you and now the minute you go on a date you’re acting like you’re in a TV heartbreak!” she said, half laughing, half looking ready to strangle you.

You sighed and looked around at the floury mess you’d left all over the room and at the numerous treats you’d made, finally registering the extent of your work that day. You couldn’t believe what you’d done. You wondered for a second where you’d get the time to give them away, until you realised that her presence meant that she was back from work. Time was creeping on you faster than you'd realised and you were going to need to prepare to go out soon. Shit.

“O-oh well I um- I’ve never been on a date before,” you said truthfully, looking back at Casey as she started to clear up your damage.

She stopped in her tracks just as she began to take your mixing bowls over to the sink and whirled back around. Her eyes were as wide as an owl’s. Now you were beginning to think that your excuse wasn’t the best cover up.

“You’ve never been on a date?” she echoed.

You nodded and rubbed the back of your neck, already regretting your idea so much more. It was obvious she was invested now. Invested in your date with the Corinthian, oh gods, what were you going to do? You didn’t want to get all dolled up for him, you didn't want to indulge him in any way really, but the look on Casey’s face now was the ‘you’re not getting out of this without a makeover’ look.

“Hold on, before you get any ideas-” you tried.

“Oh I have so many ideas!” She interrupted. “ We need to start getting you ready now, we need to prepare you. Right, you go get in the shower then I can do your hair and bring up first date topics- oh and then we can-”

You zoned out while she rambled on about her schemes, lost in your own despair. Her head was filled with roses and your’s was occupied by those dark soulless shades and fox-like smile. You were going for a date with the devil and she was acting like you were meeting prince charming and getting ready for a life in a castle. It made your lips turn like you’d just eaten sour candy.

You knew better than to argue with Casey, however. Once she got on one of her tirades you’d never be able to stop her, especially not while she looked so full of childlike excitement. Who were you to ruin her dreams of preparing her friend for her first date?

-🍰-

You looked like something out of a magazine. Your eye makeup was perfectly applied and glittered like a fairy had flown over you, your cheeks were glimmering with highlighter and your lips were pink and glossy. Kissable, she had said. As if you were going to allow him to kiss you. Ha!

You stood in the doorway, glaring at the thought of the nightmare you were going to meet. Only for a second though. Casey turned back around to face you and continued to rattle off her first date rules, while you stared off into the distance. Somehow, you didn’t think you were going to need to use them. Instead of listening, you played with the skirt of your white cotton dress and admired your pretty pink nails.

“Are you even listening to me?” Casey snapped.

“Oh- yes! I’ll let you know as soon as I’m there and I’ll call you if anything happens,” you said dutifully, gesturing away with your hand.

“That’s not what I was-”

“Actually, you know what, I really should be going! Don’t want to be late,” you interrupted, finally growing tired of humouring her.

With a squeal of good luck being shouted out to you, you closed the door and rushed down the stairs of your apartment toward the exit. You stood in the lobby for a second, feeling as if your breath was being stolen from your lungs. You didn’t want to have to go to the club, you didn’t even know if he’d be there yet, he hadn’t been so prudent as to give you a time. It made you wonder if he’d make you sit there all night for him.

Think of the humans, you said to yourself over and over like a mantra. You whispered it at first until you got into the cab you’d called, and even then, you took to recycling it in your head instead. You had to protect these beings' lives with your own, no matter what fiendish plans the Corinthian had in store for you.

“You look real pretty tonight, miss,” the driver said, eyeing you appreciatively in his mirror. “Somethin’ special on?”

“Oh, thanks,” you mumbled. “Not really…”

“Really? You look nervous, I figured you might be going to an event,” he probed.

“I guess I just get nervous going to clubs,” you lied.

The cabbie grunted something at that, he must have realised you didn’t want to talk. Good, you’d thought. Talking was too much at that moment. Everything was too much. The smell of old worn leather and cigarette smoke was overloading your senses and it only served to make you antsier.

You’d been so nervous to get in the cab, but now you wanted nothing more than to get out. Though, ideally you’d be getting out somewhere other than the club. Somewhere that was filled with fresh baked treats and the smell of sugar thick in the air.

“That’s us here, miss.”

The cabbie broke you out of your thoughts and glanced at you again through his mirror. You caught sight of his coppery almost orange eyes and blinked back at them, forgetting for a second where you were. Oh gods, you’d have to get out now. You forced a smile, feeling the corners of your lips pull unnaturally and handed him a note, telling him to keep the change.

“Thanks! By the way, don’t be nervous tonight, you’re gonna knock em’ dead,” he said, grinning a sharp toothy grin.

“Hopefully,” you smiled back, your thoughts straying to how you wished that to be true.

If only you could give the Corinthian a look and send him into the darkness then you could enjoy your new life and let the humans live peacefully. Though you knew you didn’t have power like that, only one being did and he was lost long ago. Another thought that had you frowning when you left the taxi.

You slammed the door shut and embraced the cool night air, feeling it stroke your cheeks and bring you back to reality. It was no use, you weren’t going to be able to escape from this. You realised you had to get out of your head and prepare for your night ahead with the Corinthian, prepare for him relentlessly calling you ‘sugar’ and invading your personal space.

How fun.

You advanced up to the club with little issue, even though you’d hoped that the bouncer would deny you, soon you were embraced by the flickering lights once more. There was a growly, sensual song playing over the booming speakers and bright red lights were illuminating the space. It reminded you of the drink he’d bought you the night before.

You gulped and looked around, watching as dancing bodies already filled the floor and writhed together in a collective mass. You were hot already despite only being there about a minute and you were suddenly more aware of your heavy makeup, like cloying fingers grasping at your face. You took a frustrated breath and just as you were about to go to the bar you bumped into something solid.

“Oh, excuse me!” you gasped.

You looked up, trying to see who you bumped into, only to find yourself greeted with a familiar set of dark lenses. It was him. Of course it was him.

Tonight he was dressed in a white sweater and grey slacks, his smart black shoes were shining in the crimson light. His hair was neatly parted as usual and of course he was looking as full of himself as ever. He stood over you like he thought himself a god.

“No problem, sugar,” he growled, noticeably tilting his head to look at you.

You folded your arms and hooked your chin up in defiance, trying to cover yourself a little. It only made him laugh. Already, you were considering seeing if kicking him would cause him pain. The thought brought a smile to your face. What would be better, a kick to the nethers or one in the knee and then square into those stupid shades?

“So…what is it you want?” you finally asked.

“Is that all you’re capable of saying?” he groaned, leaning back dramatically.

“Only when it comes to you, nightmare,” you said, finally finding your courage. “I’d like to fulfil my purpose here and leave as soon as possible.”

“Oh really? Is that why you dolled yourself up all pretty? So you could convince me to leave,” he teased, reaching out and flicking the fabric of your dress.

You gasped and looked down at yourself, forgetting that you’d come so dressed up and felt your cheeks heat in embarrassment. Well now you looked like an idiot. You gazed back to his smug smile and just as you were about to defend yourself he crooked his finger and gestured his head toward the entrance.

“You’re dressed up far too pretty to be in a place like this. You got everyone’s heads turnin’, sugar,” he’d said it smoothly, but there was a glint of something that passed through his face, a twitch too quick for you to really tell.

You frowned at him and looked around. Was he serious? Surely everyone couldn’t be looking. You bit your lip, catching a few men’s eyes as they looked away from your gaze, you were shocked. Apparently Casey had worked her magic a little too well. Well now he’s definitely going to think I’m trying to flirt back with him, you thought sourly.

“I want to know where we’re going before I leave with you.”

“Can’t I surprise you? I know a spot I think you’ll like.”

“Oh really? You know a spot I’d like? I somehow doubt we frequent the same kinds of places,” you said, voice heavy with sarcasm.

“Trust me,” he said, cooing your name, “I’m not all bad.”

You gave him a pointed look, but it was no use. It was either you follow him or…god knows what. He’d lash out and hurt some human most likely. You knew what he was like, knew his reputation, you couldn’t leave all the humans around you at his mercy. So soon enough you found yourself following behind him like a hellbound duckling.

You rubbed at your arms and felt your legs get heavier with every step. The last thing you wanted to do was go to an unknown location with your current company, but he was being very insistent. As soon as you’d left the thick double doors, Corinthian put his arm around yours and had you walking in step with him.

His grip on you was reminiscent of the night before. His arm was locked on yours, trapping you next to him, you wondered what he had in store for you. Where could he be taking you like this? Was he going to drag you to a torture dungeon, find some way to hurt you? Would he take you somewhere dark and filled with blood and bodies, somewhere cold and lonely where he could lock you up?

While your thoughts were filled with dread, the Cornithian’s were anything but. He was leading you through the darkened streets with renewed vigour, excited by his new little plaything. His sweet little dream, all pure and dressed in white and sprinkled with glitter. He could almost taste you. When you’d showed up dressed like that he could’ve sworn there were fireworks erupting at your entrance.

“So how come you dressed up for me then, sugar? Is your little ‘I hate you’ act crumbling already?”

“Act?” you laughed back at him. “I’m not acting, I think you’re repulsive.”

“Repulsive is a big bad word for such a small thing,” he replied dryly, tightening his already iron grip on your arm.

Asshole! You muttered under your breath and struggled in his grip. Though it was futile, it felt like you needed to test if you had the opportunity to break free. Was he made of metal? You cursed Morpheus for making him so strong.

“For your information, I’m not small! And I’m only dressed like this because when my friend asked me where I was going tonight I had to lie and say I had a date.”

“A date? Oh, isn’t that sweet,” Corinthian crowed, stopping in his tracks.

“Like I said, I had to lie to her.”

“Mhmm, you know what I really think?” he said, smile as bright as ever. “I think that somewhere in that little head of yours, you know that I’m not as bad as you think I am. Maybe you wanted this to be a date.”

You rolled your eyes and opted not to dignify that with a response. Like you’d ever want to go out with that monster willingly. Even if he was being a gentleman for the time being, you thought, there was no telling when he’d reveal his true nature to you. Even though he’d been fairly pleasant to you so far…

You shook your head and urged him to keep walking in the same direction he’d been going. The sooner you got to this place, the sooner you could be done with him you reasoned. Yes, that was why you gripped him back, and moreover how you began to enjoy how soft his sweater was on your bare arms.

“So you and this friend…how did you meet her?” Corinthian asked, taking you off guard.

Was he actually asking about you? Was he being legitimate? Did he actually care? Your thoughts raced for a second, wondering how candid you should be. You knew you couldn’t reveal too much, couldn’t give him any information that would allow him to hurt Casey. He was a tiger in the brush and he had you in his sights. You would try to hold that thought close.

“I met her in a dream first,” you finally revealed.

“Oh really? So what, you came down here to look for her?”

“No…I uh- I left the dreaming and didn’t really know where to go, I suppose. I wandered around for awhile not really knowing what to do and then when I saw Casey for the first time here I guess- I guess I just knew I could trust her. So I live with her now. ”

“Makes sense.”

“Does it?” you asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

“Anyone that dreams of you must be innocent enough,” he shrugged, glancing down at you.

“If that’s the assumption you want to make,” you said bristling.

“Are you always this defensive, sugar? Don’t you get tired of being so uptight?”

You froze at his accusation and felt your spine go stick straight. Defensive? If he didn’t like you being defensive then maybe he’d prefer angry? You felt your heartbeat quicken as your thoughts simmered like molten lava through your body.

“Maybe i wouldn’t be so defensive if you didn’t literally threaten to murder people if I didn’t come out with you tonight!” You hissed, poking your finger straight into his hard chest.

“Woah there, sugar. Calm down! I didn’t make any threats, when did I make a threat?” He said lowly, taking your hand away from his chest.

You watched as he took your hand and raised it to his lips, planting a kiss on the back of it like an old fashioned gentleman. His lips felt like cool rose petals on your heated skin. What the hell? You took a second to register what he said and felt yourself getting more riled.

“You literally said you would seek out another pair of eyes!” You squealed, grabbing your hand back.

You winced at your tone and looked around at the empty street around you, sighing when you realised no one was around to hear. At least you didn’t sound crazy to anyone else. Just yourself. The silence echoed in the street, all you could hear was the hum of the streetlights and sirens in the distance.

“You’re a dramatic little thing aren’t you?”

“I’ll show you dramatic!”

You blinked a couple times when he raised his brows at you and huffed out a breath of air. You’d only proved his point. Again.

“You’re cute when you’re angry, look at your little shoulders gettin’ all tensed up! How about this, sugar. We share the rest of the walk in silence and when we get to where we’re going you don’t act like I’m kicking you every time I speak. What do you say?”

“I think if you want more pleasant company, you shouldn’t coerce it out,” you said dryly, tugging on his arm again so he’d continue.

That made him laugh. His chuckle was rich and deep, it filled the night air around you and made your heart beat faster. You bit your lip and tried to ignore him a while as he finally relented and led you to your mystery location. There was something about his tone of voice that was so soothing, so dreamlike. Nothing like you’d expect a nightmare to be.

A few streets later, after walking a few more minutes, you found yourself in front of a brightly lit ice cream parlour that proudly said it was open till 1am. The building oozed blue neon that poured out into the street and enticed you in with the smell of sugar and polished linoleum. It was like Corinthian had read your mind, you’d much rather have been there than at that club. It was a shock, he hadn’t taken you somewhere that displayed guts at the door like wind chimes, and those being your expectations, it was a pleasant shock.

“Do you come here often?” You found yourself asking.

“I’ve been here a few times, it’s the best ice cream in town,” he smirked, walking you leisurely through the glass doors.

“You don’t seem like the type that eats a lot of ice cream,” you murmured.

“What kind of monster doesn’t like ice cream?” He said scandalised.

You could barely contain the giggle that escaped your lips. The big bad Corinthian was a dessert lover. Who knew? It was probably the last place you thought he’d take you, though you wouldn’t be found complaining. It made you think that maybe there was more to the nightmare than murder and fear, maybe there was a heart thawing in amongst that scary exterior. Had you been too judgmental?

What were you thinking? This guy is literally a known killer, you reminded yourself, you couldn’t fall for this glamour he was putting on. You bit your lip and tried to concentrate on the cold glass case he was leading you up to, his grip now relaxing and falling till he was eventually just loosely holding your hand. You looked down at it curiously and then back at the ice cream, figuring it was best not to fight it.

“Pick anything you like, sugar. My treat,” he smiled, catching the attention of the motherly looking woman behind the counter.

“So sweet,” she cooed, looking between you both warmly. “You make a cute couple!”

Her comment immediately got your back bristling, and it took every fibre of your being to stop from correcting her. You were holding hands so it’s not like her assumption was baseless, but it didn’t quell your urge to throw up any less. Instead you distracted yourself with the colourful array of different ice creams while the Corinthian thanked the woman for her ‘compliment’.

Eventually you settled on two scoops of cherry cheesecake and even felt yourself get excited as you were handed your chocolate sprinkle dipped cone. It was almost enough to make you forget your present company when you slid into the baby blue leather booth. Almost being the operative word, given you did have to stare up at his face when he sat in front of you. At least he’d bought you ice cream.

“What’s your verdict then?” He asked, taking a pink plastic spoonful of his salted caramel.

You put the cone to your mouth and smiled as you tasted the sweet dessert, tart cherry and crumbling biscuit pieces combined to perfection. You took in a few more mouthfuls and lost yourself, realising you might’ve found a new favourite treat. You didn’t even consider the fact you were ignoring your company until he cleared his throat and brought you back to reality.

He quirked a brow as he looked at you and tilted his head in thought. You were cute. There was something about the way you smiled and closed your eyes to properly enjoy your ice cream that was so endearing. It only made him want you to make you his all the more. He’d decided long ago that you weren’t going to be Morpheus’ little pet anymore, you were going to be his dream. He’d break down your walls one way or another and when he did, you’d be far from the dream Morpheus created.

“This is delicious,” you answered finally. “You were right, I like this place!”

“See. A little trust goes a long way.”

“Mhmm, Well forgive me for not immediately trusting someone like you,” you snorted.

“And what am I like,” he asked, pointing his little plastic spoon at himself. “As far as I’m concerned I’ve been nothing but a gentleman to you.”

“You being nice to me doesn’t excuse the fact you said you’d seek someone else out for the night if you couldn’t have me. And before you try to say anything, because I can see the defence cooking up in your head already, I know what you meant by it.”

He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, propping an arm up on the leather.

“Just because I said I’d seek someone else out doesn’t mean I’d kill them,” he said matter of factly.

“Shh!”

You looked around, eyes wide as saucers, and paranoid that someone would hear, but it was only you two and the nice lady behind the counter. She was far too busy humming away to herself and cleaning to listen to your conversation. It sounded like something you’d heard off of the radio.

“Do you really think I go round killing everyone I fuck?”

“Would you stop!”

“What? I’m trying to reassure you here, sugar. You keep making me out to be some kind of lunatic, and I’d like to let you know I’m a very reasonable man.”

“I’m so glad to know that you’re not a completely ruthless killer, just a murder inclined whore,” you said dryly.

“Well I bet most people are whores compared to you, huh sweet thing,” he grinned.

You narrowed your eyes at first, ready to try and defend yourself but you didn’t have much of a rebuke. It was true that you didn’t have much experience in those sorts of things…ok truthfully you hadn’t even kissed someone before, but it wasn’t like you were one of those kinds of dreams. You were a baker for gods sakes, you were too busy perfecting recipes to be dealing with romances and flings.

“Before you start making fun of me, it’s only been a few months since I left the dreaming,” you huffed, feeling thoroughly embarrassed.

Not only did you end up on a date with the corinthian, you ended up revealing your personal life to him as well. This was far from your idea of what life on earth would be like. For one, you hadn’t thought of what you’d do if you ran into nightmares and for another you hadn’t really thought much about sex before. You’d had a job to do and you’d rigorously made sure to make that your only commitment, those kinds of thoughts hadn’t crossed your mind before…

Now apparently, you had all the time in the world to think about it. The idea had your breath racing and your palms sweating. What had you been doing all these months?

“Sugar, I would never make fun of you for being innocent. You’re just what dream made you is all,” he intoned soothingly.

“What do you mean?” you asked with a frown.

“Well…you’ve been here for a few months like you said, and in that time have you done anything other than bake and hang around that little friend of yours?”

“Well no, I guess not,” you said thoughtfully, eating more of your ice cream before it could spill onto your fingers.

“And that’s because you’ve not really released yourself from your dream's hold yet,” he explained, talking as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

“What’s so wrong with that?” you hissed.

“Well nothing much for you I suppose, me on the other hand…” he said, with a dramatic sigh. “He made me what I am, he made me The Corinthian. He made me the thing you’re disgusted by and, so while we’re being honest with each other, I don’t think that’s very fair.”

You tilted your head and watched as his smile faded for once and he looked almost…sad? It made you pause in thought, realising that maybe what he was saying was the truth. Immediately you felt terrible for how judgmental you’d been, the realisation sunk through you heavily and made your throat constrict. Had you really been so harsh to someone that you didn’t know?

“So…do you mean you want to change that?”

“I’ve been on earth for a century and do you know what I’ve come to realise? All the evil I’ve wrought here hasn’t brought me any joy at all. The reason I asked you - well forced you I suppose, which I apologise for, is because I think I need help. I figured someone as sweet as you might be just what I need,” he explained, smoothing a hand through his hair.

You swore you could feel your heart pulsing in your ears. Was the Corinthian really pouring his heart out to you in an ice cream parlour? Were you in a dream? You had to stop yourself from pinching your arm. This was real. He was really looking at you with those pouted lips and raised brows seemingly full of hope.

Gods, this was a lot more than you’d signed up for.

“So when you say I’m what you need, do you mean you’re going to stop- well y’know,” you said, making a stabbing motion with your cone.

He laughed at that and his smile returned to his face. Soon enough he was nodding, balancing his head on his hands now, looking intently at you. For once you didn’t look at him like he was a lion before it gave chase, now there was something sweet about the way he gazed at you. Something that made you want to reach out and stroke his arm, reassure him things would be alright.

Maybe that was a little bit too far for now. You weren’t entirely won over, but it definitely seemed like there was something honest about his story. Afterall, you had left the dreaming after vowing you’d never do that and so if you could change, then maybe he could too.

“So what are you asking of me?”

“I want you to help me on the new path i'm on,” he smiled, “I don’t want to be good or bad, a nightmare or a dream. Now that Morpheus has left us and gone, gods know where, and this is all that’s left, we need to make the most of it. What I want is to be more human. Don’t you?”

You gasped as he made his admission and looked out the window for a second, staring up at the night sky and looking at the moon and stars that peeked out from their blankets in the clouds. It was all so much to take in, but as you reflected on his words, you had a sinking feeling that what he was saying was right.

After waiting so long for your lord to return and being faced with so much disappointment, it made you wonder if your ridgid ways of thinking were really all that accurate anymore. Was there such a thing as a dream or a nightmare now that Morpheus was gone? Now that you lived for yourself and not under his rule, you needed to find a new purpose and surely reforming the once terrible Corinthian would be a worthy cause.

Perhaps Corinthian was right. Maybe striving for something more was the path forward. Striving for humanity rather than merely observing it. That made you smile. Being human sounded like fun.

“So,” you said giggling a little and looking back at your new friend, “I guess that means I need to make you better…and you get to make me worse.”

“Well, sugar, you said it not me, but I think I like where you’re going with this,” he grinned, reaching his hand across the table and out to you.

You bit your lip and considered him for a second, still trying to see if there was a veil of trickery to be spotted. Though, there was nothing obvious to you. He didn’t seem much like a monster to you anymore, he just seemed like someone reaching out for help. If helping him meant you were going to keep people safe and figure out a new purpose then maybe you didn’t really have anything to lose.

You reached out and grasped his hand, swearing that it felt warmer than before, softer, and clasped it tight. You were really doing this. You were going to make Corinthian into a good man.

Next Part Here

-💕-

Tag List

@ravenous-says-stuf @jvybirrd @padawansubscription @pinkybee926 @heurimariquinha @the-corinthian-og-begay-docrimes @autistic-dream

#the sandman #the corinthian #corinthian #corinthian x reader #sandman #sandman fanfiction #boyd holbrook

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yandere-to-express · 9 months

Text

Goth and the thembo

Chapter 2

 cw for obsessive behaviour and stalking, but, well, you guys knew that was coming, right? maybe the cw should just say "peter",, (there's also some misgendering, but i promise it's very brief and non-hostile/unintentional!)

Dog barking. Microwave beeping. Smell of the instant meal they just pulled out. Big stretch...

Breathe.

“Be quiet, Blossom,” they sighed half-heartedly, already drained only 10 minutes after getting home. The little chihuahua sneezed confrontationally, staring out into the hallway, alert. It was probably the neighbour’s kids getting home from whatever sports club they usually attended. That, or their brothers were coming home after visiting whatever new friends they’d made at their own schools.

They decided they were too tired to care.

Legs weaving through the suddenly interested cats and dog now they were holding a plate of food with careful practise, Y/n carried it upstairs to their unfinished room, the blank walls staring at them almost accusingly with boxes of things that still had yet to be unpacked as they clicked the light-switch on.

Speaking of unpacking...

Y/n sighed as they sunk into their mattress, spoon in hand as they half-heartedly ate the curry on their plate, the events of the day almost dulling their usual favourite flavour down considerably, cheap chicken tikka masala not covering their taste buds in a comforting embrace the way it used to. Maybe it’s just the way it was made over here.

Anyway.

Yeah, they made a new friend in the least likely place, but that was nerve-wracking enough. They thought...They thought that because they got detention something terrible would happen. And when it didn’t...They didn’t know, the impending sense of doom still hadn’t left entirely, so it was exhausting enough just processing it from the comfort of their home. It was a miracle they hadn’t devolved into tears at school, especially with how loud it was in the cafeteria today.

They couldn’t let that happen. They wouldn’t , this was a new start. They weren’t going to blow it like they did back in Year 7.

...No, they weren’t thinking about that right now. They’d unpack that memory when they had the mental capacity to do so.

...What were they thinking about again? Oh, right, school today.

So yeah, double-period History was boring until Peter showed up, French 2 was a wash (seriously, they were thankful they took it as a GCSE before they left England, they were further ahead than they thought they’d ever be), Graphic Design just went over the same old stuff they already learned back home, and Algebra 2 was even easier like, c’mon! Algebra wasn’t supposed to be easy! At least move them up a few classes if it was like that! They were so worried about the past two years of GCSEs (as well as the three months of Sixth Form that they promptly – and gladly – abandoned when the family moved overseas around Christmas) being earned would be useless now they were here, but it just meant they were too far ahead! And they weren’t allowed to join the Seniors so late into the year either! Back in England they’d been so worried about having enough intelligence, but now they apparently had too much of the stuff, and it was irritating! They’d rather keep being a “gifted” student back in Years 1 to 6, thank you very much. At least AP Physics was more of a challenge, but, well, it was AP Physics . It didn’t get much harder than that, in their opinion.

Why was all this a problem? Because without work that would take more than 25 minutes to complete on average, Y/n was terrible at focusing. Worksheet finished? You’d think that they would ask for more, right? Wrong , they just stared out the window absently, maybe doodling in a book that they brought for that purpose if they remembered, trying their best to keep their cool when the class got rowdy and the teacher had to shout over the noise to call the class to attention again. It was worse than back home, honestly. The classes were bigger, for one thing, so that immediately meant more noise.

Man, maybe they should have just gone straight to college. Oh well, too late now.

They licked their spoon clean as they finished their meal, just opting to leave the cutlery and plate on one of the piles of boxes to take down in the morning, closing their curtains (their parents insisted that they at least hang those up) as they shrugged off their zip-up hoodie, tiredly undressing ungracefully and throwing on some pyjamas. After leaving the room for a few minutes to brush their teeth (hey, they were an idiot who ate unhealthily and kept dirty dishes in their room, but oral hygiene was still one of their top priorities! ...thanks for scaring that into them, Mum), they reached into a small box by their bed, pulling out an old pink DS, checking the cartridge and settling on the game inside, ignoring Blossom’s barking as they heard their brothers return.

Pokémon Platinum would help them out for now...

Y/n woke up with a start, eyes snapping open as they heard movement outside. They wiped their bleary eyes as they looked around. They’d fallen asleep with their DS, it seemed, the melody of Jubilife City at night out of place as their anxiety rocketed. Was this the beginning of a robbery?! Were they being robbed?! They scrambled to pick up their DS, tapping the Pokétch a few times to get a sense of how late it was and-

Oh. 11pm. That was when their dad got home from work, which was confirmed by the door creaking open downstairs, his mumbles of greeting to what Y/n assumed was their Mum or a brother muffled by the floorboards beneath them.

Man, were they dumb, huh? They let out a shaky chuckle at their own stupidity, shutting their DS and putting it on the makeshift nightstand (you know, just a stack of boxes, like what anyone else has in their bedroom) next to their bed. They lay back down, screwing their eyes shut in an attempt to sleep.

Surprisingly, it actually worked!

...Unsurprisingly, they missed the way the moonlight cast a shadow on the figure sitting in the tree just outside their window...

Ok, that was way too close for comfort.

That old dude who went inside almost saw him, apparently there was a family dog that hated people walking by, and poor Y/n looked terrified! They looked as though they were about to die (no, not them, they’d never die, he’d make sure of it)! But, fuck, if the streetlight was just a few inches closer to the house...

Peter shivered as he looked back into his darling’s darkened room with his huge, almost luminous, cerulean eyes, safe in the knowledge that not many other people would be out at this time, and none of them would see them from the sidewalk. He waited for what felt like an eternity, watching as the rest of the lights shut off before making his next move.

His mother and sister picked on him for looking scrawny, but he hardly felt it as he lifted himself up on the branch above and hoisted himself onto the balcony and into the doors that they must have left open by mistake (honestly, it was February! Never mind the dangers of the world outside, what about the cold?! Oh, he’d have to take care of them, help them stay safe and healthy)…

Unless they were expecting him...?

He felt a shiver race through him, caused by the excitement and the chill (it was 23 degrees out there, ok?!) as he tip-toed into the room cautiously, praying to whatever deity out there that he didn’t step on some old, creaky floorboard. Thankfully, his darling’s room didn’t seem to have any (good, they deserved the best room in the world, he couldn’t bear to let someone as adorable as them to live uncomfortably, and they were so small! He was actually a little worried some of the piles of boxes would topple over and crush them!), and he was right by their side in a flash.

He stood, watching over Raine with a little uncertainty of what to do now, looking at the rise and fall of their chest. They were wearing some pyjamas with some yellow fantasy animal thing on it (Pikachu, right? So adorable ...), and they gave a little snort as they slept, a little bit of drool escaping their mouth.

If Y/n knew they looked like that while they slept? They would’ve been mortified.

But, to Peter?

They looked like an angel sent from the heavens. His darling angel. Fuck, how could anyone look so adorable and beautiful?

...Well, the cold was no longer an issue for him, it seemed.

Peter knelt down, placing his chin onto the mattress as he continued watching them breathe. Watching as their face scrunched up a few times, muttering nonsensical things out loud as they dreamed (he had no idea what a cookie cat was, but fuck, they were just so cute!) . He stayed there for hours, ignoring the plea for rest from his eyes as they drooped more and more. After the first half-hour, he’d gotten bolder and moved his face closer to theirs, able to smell their wavy brown hair (they must have used coconut scented shampoo before school, he realised, but God , it was addicting, he’d have to get some of his own just to be reminded of the scent of them ) and gently wipe away the line of drool leaking from their barely parted lips.

...Deep within him he knew it was gross, but he licked the liquid away in a flash and, stars above , that was even better than their smell!

He whispered praise to them as the night dragged on, petting their hair and caressing their cheek tenderly. He even got a little absent, sleepy nuzzle on the hand back (he was never washing that hand again)! His darling kept mumbling stuff about ice cream from outer space, and choosing something called a Bidoof (whatever it was, they giggled in their sleep about it being God, and, in case you hadn’t guessed yet, he did another mental bluescreen at how adorable they were being) to fight something called an Arceus?

But then, they said something that made his heart (and, ok, maybe his pants) swell and his face turn bright red.

“Mmph, Peter...Bite me...Sharp teeth...”

Oh.

Oh boy.

The goth kind of just...sat there, staring at Y/n in bewilderment.

Yesyesyesyesyes darling, he could do that!

He cursed under his breath, averting his gaze out of bashfulness (somehow, he had some shame still left inside!), and pausing as he noticed the sky outside was brightening.

Fuck , he’d been there all night!

Peter hesitantly got up, looking back at Y/n as he made his way back to the balcony. The sun was only just peeking up behind the horizon, but it was enough for some golden rays to hit his darling’s body.

Yeah. He was right. They had to be an angel, they looked so fucking beautiful and peaceful like that.

He wouldn’t mind waking up next to them like that in the bed, some day.

He shook his head, brushing his ebony hair out of his face, gazing over Y/n face and body one last time, before hopping out the balcony and back into the tree, scaling down it carefully and landing a little clumsily onto the wet grass. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and hesitantly walking away, back towards where the school and his own house was.

He was going to be so exhausted today.

...It was totally worth it, though.

“Someone’s chipper today,” Lucy noted as Y/n skipped into the classroom, sitting next to her with a smile. “You’re even in on time! Did Detention really scare you so much that you didn’t wanna be late again?”  “Good morning to you too,” they frowned teasingly, pulling out a little sketchbook and their pencil case. “Nope, I just...I dunno, I didn’t sleep in for once. I actually slept great for the first time in, what? Ever?”  “You look it, your eye-bags are basically gone!”  “Oh, no, that’s makeup. But! I actually had time to put some on for once!”  “Aww, Y-Y growin’ up!” Lucy teased and wiping pretend tears away and, patting them on the back and jokingly wiping away a tear. “But, how was Detention by the way?”  “Oh, great, actually. I got some work done and I made a new friend,” Y/n admitted, beginning to doodle. Lucy smiled widely, seeming to be genuinely happy.  “Good for you! I’ve noticed that my crowd seems to put you off – don’t give me that look, I’ve seen your face, I’ve worn that face, I’m only still around those loud assholes because they’re Vio’s friends, so I know how you feel – but, seriously. I’m happy for you, now you’ll have someone less obnoxious than the soccer team!”  “You’re talking to me as if I have no friends other than you,” Y/n raised an eyebrow at her, grinning.  “You know what I mean! You only really hang out with me and Vio, as well as that nerd in your History and Physics classes. TJ?”  “TK, and they’re a sweetheart, I’ll have you know.”  “Yeah, yeah, I know, but, anyway! Who’s your friend?”

Y/n glanced down at the doodle and realised that without thinking, they’d drawn the new friend himself.

“Oh, take a look, I just finished a drawing of him,” they pointed. Lucy followed their finger, their smile dropping as her violet eyes widened, pupils contracting.  “No,” she hissed quietly, whipping her head back to face the other, panicked. Y/n groaned at her expression. “Not him! You can’t be friends with him, he’s- well HE FUCKING CURVE STOMPED A JOCK AND TEEETH ARE ALL GONE!”  “Trouble? Yeah, I know, TK told me, but he was nice enough to me!” Y/n whispered back, frowning. Lucy shook her head violently, ignoring how her earrings bashed against her cheeks as they swung on her ears.  “You can’t! Peter King is- He's-”  “If he ends up being horrible, I’ll just back off! I’ll be fine, Lulu!”  “But!-”

“Excuse me, girls,” came Mrs Stewart’s voice and, ew, there’s only one girl here, Y/n grimaced, Lucy frowning as she caught on too. “Could we have some silence whilst I do roll-call, please?”  “Sorry Miss,” Y/n slumped, staring down at their paper. Lucy continued to look on with irritation at the teacher, absently squeezing their hand in comfort.

Soon enough, registration passed, and the class continued with its noise before the first bell went off to signify the change in classes. Lucy looked at Y/n, eyes worried.

“She’s a shit teach, huh?”  “I’m used to it, it was worse back in the UK,” Y/n shrugged, packing their things away so they wouldn’t have to hurry when the time came. Lucy sighed.  “I’m sorry, y/n, I- Fuck, not just that old bat, but about Peter. I’m just- I don’t want you getting hurt, ok? And, well, he makes others hurt a lot. But, if you wanna try, I won’t stop you. You’ll tell me if he does hurt you though, yeah? Vio and the boys’ll kick his ass for you, heck, I’ll join in! It’d put my brown belt to good use!”  “Thanks, Lulu,” Y/n smiled, picking up their bag as the bell rang. “And, hey, I can beat him up too if I have to! I do swimming! I have the muscle!”  “You’re a bit small compared to him, Y-Y.”  “So’s everyone else!”  “You’re 5’4!”

They paused as they walked, before laughing loudly.

“Ah, whatever, you probably won’t need to, anyway. See you at Break?”  “See ya, good luck in the halls!” Lucy shouted over the noise, grinning as she made her way to her Business class. Y/n sighed, looking back at her momentarily before pushing on through the crowds.  “I’ll fucking need it,” they grumbled getting pushed to-and-fro by all the taller students, pulling up their hood and tugging on the cord to block out the smell of deodorant and teenage sweat as they made their way to a hopefully quiet classroom.

Media had better have some sort of challenge today.

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abbofff · 7 days

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Chapter Eight

masterlist

I tossed and turned in my sleeping bag for what felt like a eternity. My head and guts feels like they were going to explode, I was feeling even worse than last night. So after a while of more suffering, I decided to go to the bathroom to avoid the possibility of vomiting on the child next to me.

The storm raged in the sky like yesterday so maybe Zeus is having some terrible nights himself.

Just a few steps outside the cabin I began to feel the strong gusts of wind hitting me but it were a few more steps away that I began to hear whispers. No one was around, so I gathered that there were voices brought by the wind. They sound alarmed, in danger, so I closed my eyes to tried to focus on from where they came.

My heart dropped when I could herd him clearly.

I started running towards Thalia's tree. I no longer feel pain; the moment the adrenaline kicked in, the only thing I could feel was the hair clip attached to the belt loop of my jeans and the anger which I would lash out at anyone who dared to hurt my brother. I couldn't afford to scream for help or I'd lose track of the voices, so I just ran.

I reached the hill and could see the scene happening below: Percy on the Minotaur's back with Grover barely conscious a few meters away from him.

Percy stabbed the monster with it's own horn and fell unconscious on the ground. I ran to his side to check his pulse and thanked the Gods that he was still breathing. Then, I lifted my head to look at Grover, who was struggling to get on his... no, those where not feet. Grover failed to get on his hooves and fell on the ground.

I put Percy on my back and approached Grover. I secured Percy with one hand and held out the other to my friend. He looked at me as he grabbed my hand and I saw the tiredness and sorrow in his eyes. I helped him stand up, which he did with difficulty so I hugged him around the waist to prevent him from falling.

— In my right pocket there is some of ambrosia, grab some. — I commanded, which he obeyed.

Grover's cuts and limp dissappeared with just a piece of ambrosia but he was still tired and not on his full mental capacity as he seemed very shocked.

I couldn't imagine what they have gone through, but the only thing that I could do right now was get them to safety.

— Grov, it's okay, breath. You are here now. — I reassured him.

I gave a few deep breaths myself as I stared at him. He focused on me and did what I said.

— Atta boy. Let's get you both to the infirmary. Follow me, ok?. — I said.

Grover walked ahead of me, so I focused on making sure he didn't trip and that Percy didn't fall off my back. We walked until we were close to the borders and only stopped when I felt a spear stabbing me in the left calf.

I screamed in pain and knelt on my good leg. I set Percy gently on the floor and looked over my shoulder at a happy couple walking their dog.

I mentally thanked Annabeth for the quick monster guide. I recognized that the monsters were a Scythian Dracaenae, a Laistrygonian Giant and a hellhound.

I stood up to look over Grover's shoulder, we were close to the tree, but not close enough to make a run for it.

— Take him, run to the border and call for help. — I commanded the satyr.

— NO! I'll distract them, you are faster. — Grover shouted.

He was panicking so I grabbed him firmly from his shoulders.

— Take him, please. I cannot lose any of you. I'll be fine, do it.— I pleaded.

Any doubt in him disappeared as I pulled the spear from my calf and ran down the hill.

— THALIA! — He cried out.

I briefly watched over my shoulder as he clumsily grabbed Percy and dragged him to the edge of the barrier.

— Aw, how cute. The little hero wants to help her friends. — The woman hissed.

— No, I just have to buy enough time for an army of demigods can come to whipe you out. — I growled as my sword transformed on my hands.

The couple let out a amused laugh.

— Then just you will have to be enough. — He said, and then he whistled sharp.

The dog was the first to jump at me and the first to disappear as I rolled forward and slashed its stomach with the tip of my sword.

Now I was face to face with the Dracanae who pulled out another spear from nowhere.

I remembered Clarisse's movements, those of this monster were similar but rougher and not as fast, so I could predict them easily. The Dracanae was playing with me, she believed I was inferior, leaving many weak points exposed.

The hard part was the Laistrygonian. It was obvious these two worked together often because he was strategically behind me, so I had to dodge a spear and a pair of powerful fists at the same time with bleeding leg.

Wonderful saturday so far.

She tried to drive her spear into my stomach very roughly, so it was easy for me to sidestep her and land a good gash on her side, making her turn into dust.

I quickly turned to him and I threatened to cut him in his side so that he could protect himself with his arms and give me a chance to cut his knee, which he did. His guard faltered so I took the chance and stabbed him in the neck.

The Laistrygonian had not finished turning into dust when I felt claws dig into my back. I fell face first onto the ground, my sword slipping from my hands and landing a meter away from me.

I turned my head and saw a fury above me and another circulating in the air.

— I didn't know that Alecto had turned soft. — She laughed as she dug her claws deeper.

The other Fury landed where my sword was and she kicked it even further behind her. Then the monster on my back spoke again.

— You live and choose to steal from our master. Your retaliation is way long overdue. Tell me where you have hidden it and I'll try to make this quick. — She slowly dug her claws even more, amused by my pained screams.

I couldn't make sense of what she was saying. The pain and the storm flooded my senses. The only thing that I wanted was to get rid of them and go to check on Percy and Grover. I needed and wanted to kill these monsters.

I began to feel the same thing that corsed trought me the day I met my brother: the air vibrating from the electrical charges between the clouds and the earth and the electrifying rush of adrenaline tingling in my palms.

Then I felt a small tug in my gut and a powerful bolt of lightning struck the Fury and me.

She disintegrated and I got up quickly thanks to the fact that nothing hurt anymore.

In a matter of seconds, the Fury that was circulating in the air a few moments ago was now less than a meter away from me. I dodged her, but my sword was still far from me. She propelled herself towards me with a flap of her wings, and I tried to run towards my sword. I wouldn't arrive in time but the wind favored me and pushed the sword into my hand. The Fury didn't expected this and I took advantage of it to cut her head off.

I didn't even wait for her to fully turn into dust before I started running to camp. I crossed the border and started down the hill. At the foot of it I found Grover along with Clarisse, Annabeth, Luke and other demigods in pajamas. Grover ran to me and hugged me tight.

— Ada! You are alive! — I felt his tears on my shoulder. It didn't bother me, after all, my shirt was already ruined by the scratches and blood.

— I thought you were... — His voice broke.

I hugged him back even tighter and whispered reassurments in his ear for a few seconds, then I moved him a little bit away by his face.

— I'm okay, are you? — I asked.

— Yes, yes, we are. Percy is okay but he passed out. — He said, cleaning away his tears.

Chiron turned to the other demigods and spoke again.

— Thank you all for coming, but your help in no longer needed. Go back to your cabins and rest. — Chiron commanded.

I looked at Clarisse. She was wearing a black "Arizona Wildcats" hoddie, crimson red shorts and some adidas slippers. She was frowning and looking at me funny, as if she didn't understand how I was still breathing. A blush run up my cheeks and I smiled a little with my lips pursed. She looked me up and down, twirled her spear between her fingers and gave me a sharp smirk.

Then I looked at Annabeth and Luke. They still had a tight grip on their weapons and were standing tense. Their eyes switched repeatedly from Chiron to me.

— Grover, take her to the infirmary. — Chiron added.

Luke was the first to snap out of it, sheathing his sword.

— I think she good clothes first, Chiron. I'll go get some. — Luke said.

I looked at my clothes. They were worse than I thought. My left leg was stained with blood from the knee down and I don't think my shirt is any better because I could feel the cold air, raindrops and dried blood all over my back. The good thing is that all the wounds disappeared and not even a scar remained.

— That would be amazing, Luke. Thank you. — I said.

He nodded and got on his way with the other demigods following him. Clarisse and Annabeth where the last to go. Annabeth's grip on her dager didn't falter until Clarisse touched her shoulder and pointed the way to the cabins with her head.

After they left, it was just Chiron, Grover and me. Chiron accompanied us to the door of the infirmary.

— I need to talk with you tomorrow, Ada, so please try to rest now. — He said.

— Belive me, Chiron, that's all I want. — I joked.

Eight monsters in 24 hours were tiring as fuck.

— Goodnight to you two. — Chiron said before he left.

Grover and I entered the infirmary and I hurried to Percy's side.

He was sleeping peacefully, drooling even. I began to caress his hair and saw how there was not a single scratch on him. I smiled and sighed deeply as I felt a giant weight get off of me.

— Are you sure that he's okay? Did Will saw him? — I asked Grover.

— No, one of his older brothers did. He gave Percy some nectar and said that he would be most likely awake tomorrow. —

Grover grabbed two chairs and placed one by my side and the other across the bed.

— Thank you for getting help. How are you? Did the ambrosia helped you? —

— Why do you worry about me? — Grover asked.

I don't understand his question but I know he means it. I struggled with my words, trying to say something that he can understand.

— Grover, you are my friend, of course I'll always care for you. You know this. —

I was the first to approach Grover in Yancy. Nancy was mocking for his weird walk and I stand up to him. Percy had to stop me from punching her, tho. That was the first time we had lunch together.

— Even after all of this? —

— Especially after all of this. I get what you had to do to protect us and you even brought Percy here by yourself. I don't think I can ever thank you enough for that. —

I reached for his hand but he looked down.

— Sally drove us here. I couldn't protect her neither, and I left you alone with those monsters. You shouldn't thank me for anything. — He didn't looked at me but I realized for his voice that he was crying.

It was then that I remembered the car lights when I saw them.

— Sally is... — I couldn't end my sentence because my voice broke.

I moved away and put my back against the back of the chair. I looked at Percy's face trought my tears. Maybe if I had heard their voices sooner she would be still here. Sally welcomed me to her house countless of times, she was there for my mom and me in though times but I wasn't there for her today. It was me who had failed them.

— I'm sorry. — Grover spoke.

I couldn't respond for much that I wanted to. The sobbing took over my breathing and the tears didn't stop. I couldn't even make up my mind on what I would say to Percy tomorrow.

It was a while until my breaths calmed down. I wipped away the tears off my face although they kept falling.

I looked up to Grover. His gaze was lost in the nothingness with some of my clothes neatly folded in his lap. I didn't even noticed Luke came here, much less that Grover had gotten up from his seat.

— Grover? — I called.

He snapped out of it and looked at me.

— Here are your clothes. — He said as he walked to me.

He placed the clothes at Percy's feet and walked to the stretcher next to us. He moved it closer, a few centimeters away from Percy's.

He didn't looked at my or even said goodbye as we was reaching for the door exit.

— Grover. – I called out louder.

He hesitantly turned at me, his eyes red and puffy.

— It's not your fault. — I stated looking deeply into his eyes.

His eyes glistened again and his lips curled out.

— I'll see you around. — It was the last thing he said before he left.

I looked over to Percy. His drool had reached the pillow and he didnt even noticed. I smiled to myself a little bit before I went to the bathroom to I change my clothes.

When I came back I searched some blankets and covered Percy with one.

My eyelids felt like they weighted a thousand kilos and the burning eyes didn't helped, so I laid down facing Percy on the stretcher next to him. I wanted to reach for his hand, but the eating guilt didn't allowed me to, so just I covered myself with my blanket, hugged my body and closed my eyes.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #dior goodjohn #percy jackson #clarisse la rue x fem!reader #clarisse la rue imagine #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo show #pjo fanfic #pjo #clarisse la rue fanfiction #clarisse la rue fanfic #clarrise la rue #clarisse la rue x oc!fem!reader

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grokebaby · 5 months

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@magnuficentwo

AYYYY UNDERRATED VARPUNEN FAM TIME LESGOOO. I'm thinking I'll try to say one positive and one negative but I won't force it if it stalls me

P - Negative: See she was born into a warrior family (aka she's the beast variety of demon), which in itself was just not the right lifestyle for her personally. Real stressful. I could pick probably multiple experiences from here but let's highlight the string of clashes between a Plague from those days who ended up killing and injuring several beasts. There are still two living Villagers that bear the scars from this time. P, however, bears the mental scars of having one or her co apprentices and teachers murdered. She has survivors guilt and various other kinds of guilt from this and suffered a bad freeze reaction that has stayed with her for a while.. The victims weren't even super close to her, but it was the sheer horror of the fact that anyone could just die (and in her mind, it'd be her fault bc she failed to help them).

As a bonus, btw, the plague involved in these events is dead nowadays. Please, do take a guess as to how.

Positive: One time, P and Nan were left home alone together for roughly a week, and since P mostly didn't interact with Nan aside from what she deemed necessary, things got quiet and awkward for a bit.. P was honestly scared, bc she had the fear that this was some kind of test from their husband - one she could fail miserably, somehow, so she remained on her tiptoes the whole time. He said he'd be off on a business trip and as the author I can verify this is actually true, and it wasn't a test, but unfortunately Ps mental state was... Not good. Thanks to him. A few days in, Nan approaches P carefully and tells her that it's okay if she doesn't know what to say, and if she needs her alone time. But if she did want to hang out, or talk, or anything, Nan would be here listening, no pressure to come up with anything special. See Nan had thought that the avoidance had more to do with Ps social anxiety and being a very withdrawn person, rather than paranoia over their husband. Although I won't deny she had a hunch..

Either way, this left a very positive impression on P, and she found some kind of strength in the fact that maybe, just maybe, if things get bad enough, she can lean on Nan. That, and she decided then and there to try her best to treat nan better and try to approach her on her terms. It didn't end up happening too much (not enough in her eyes), but it did still happen.

Sighs lovingly. P deserves way more attention imo. I did not hold back from rambling. Anyways!

Pesticinger - Negative: (TW TORTURE FEEL FREE TO SKIP) So it's widely known she's unpopular amongst humans for obvious reasons, so they often plot various things to get back at her, and often try to even capture or kill it. So there's this waterfall. A group of humans really want Pesticinger to have her "comeuppance" for what she's put them through. So this waterfall. They've set a trap there, where there's a rope that ties into a noose when released, and it hangs under the rushing water. Pesticinger is lured into this trap, and here's the situation: she's got a noose around her throat, and it tightens the further you pull on it. If she gets swept up by the water's pull, it starts choking her, combined with the water trying to pull her under. So she has to literally constantly fight the water, or she suffocates (either by drowning, or noose). It is not a good time. Her feathers get soaked the hell out so flying becomes difficult, she's quickly exhausted and it's kinda hard to call for help when you're trying to fight suffocation. She was rescued, of course. Poor bird. But she can barely even look at a noose, and the noise of waterfalls gives her anxiety. So do ropes, if they're put anywhere near her body.

This next memory I'm not sure if I'd label it necessarily either strictly positive or negative but it was very impactful for her. See Pesticinger has the mental capacity to get really, really introspective and existential, but the way her brain works, also sometimes leads it to tie itself into knots and leads her down dead ends she can't think herself out of. So it can definitely overwhelm itself by overthinking. When she was still very young, in one of these cases, she came to speak to her creator henself; the Mistress. It asked many panicked, disjointed questions, trying to untangle it's mind, and getting distressed, it started knocking at it's head with it's foot. The Mistress, gently, places hens hand on Pesticingers face to block the hits, and they share silent eye contact for a moment.

"Dear bird.. You don't have to know all the answers. You might, someday, but you don't need to. You are more than just a bird, or a beast; you are a force of nature. Even still, you can be as ordinary as you want. Just don't forget yourself."

Pesticinger still feels.. Bittersweet, about it. She's frustrated that she didn't get the answers, in fact the denial of them entirely upset her back then. But she can't say it wasn't also comforting. The reason this memory isn't purely positive is mainly due to Pesticingers mindset.

I think I'll cap this post here BUT BEFORE I DO I'll include just a little something from Nan bc. My number one Varpunen fam for sure. It'll be under the cut

I'll be vague bc I was actually writing a whole thing about this and it's still kinda in progress. But.

Something that's really stuck with Nan was when she, at one point, took her kids to see their grandpa, aka Nans father. He knew there were kids, but hadn't met them due to life just sweeping everyone up for a while.

He did not react well to seeing them. Their visit became very short and very uncomfortable. Nan had to have a talk with her father privately, (His name is Yngve Surström, btw) while the kids awkwardly waited outside.

This would become the last time Nan sees her father before he disappeared completely. Nobody knows why. Or how.

#Ask #Lukittu oc tag #Pesticinger #P #My ocs #tw torture #Nan #Umm I didn't do as many characters as i planned bc I can't be concise for SHIT #But thank you so much!!!!!#My brain just went okay time to speak casual up here. And I'm kinda digging it? Took the pressure off. Hope it's okay to read though #I HAD FUN!!!! CARES YOU TOO AUUAUHAGU NICE FOREVER #Very cool ask my brother

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gerardway-is-my-babygirl · 2 months

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Hi here is a renfield ask do you think once he got free he found himself overwhelmed by just not having to be at anyone's beck and call and how did he fill the quiet hours where no one was demanding all of his physical and mental capacities

Ohhh this Is such an Interesting question!!!

Absolutely, his only purpose for the past 90 years has been to serve someone else, so that's definitely going to result In him trying to recreate that attachment to Dracula with someone different. When DRAAG had suggested he try to focus on his own needs he was still trying to please them and make them happy, he did It for himself too of course but It was mainly from them shoving him In the right direction. He's unable to do things for himself unless people encourage him to, so he definitely struggles with reminding himself to eat/drink/shower post-Dracula and gets quite overwhelmed by how many needs he has and how dull his life Is without having to go hunting every night.

For the first few weeks I Imagine he tries to Ignore Dracula's entire existence (It doesn't work very well) and he distracts himself with the hobbies he's been wanting to do for the past century: knitting, crocheting, baking, etc. Everything he does unfortunately reminds him of Dracula though, and the support group and Rebecca keep telling him to stop burying his emotions which doesn't help him to stay In the denial phase, so eventually he snaps.

I Imagine that his grieving process can go one of two ways:

There's a good route, where he falls apart a lot at the beginning but In the end he learns to accept Dracula's death and allow others to help him.

And then there's a bad route, where he doesn't get past the bargaining phase and ends up bringing Dracula back and pushing everyone around him away.

In the good route he tries to recreate a codependent bond with Rebecca, trying to fulfill every need or want she has until she finally opens up his eyes and makes him realise that he can't let Dracula's shadow follow him forever. He still takes a long time to grieve and to process everything that happened to him, but he has Rebecca and the support group by his side. He still has bad days and Insomnia, but he's determined to get better. Some part of him wants to heal just to spite Dracula, but he also wants to be able to enjoy however many remaining years he has left on earth.

To answer your question of what he would do to fill the quiet hours without being given orders; he's very sensitive about dirt and grime post-Drac, so In the good route his OCD ends up coming back In full swing and he forces himself to clean every Inch of living space that he can reach, out of determination not to let another bug Into his life or to be as dirty as he was when with Dracula. He hoards cleaning sprays and cloths as a way to take back control of his life, accidentally exhausting himself most nights and passing out after entire days of scrubbing the floors and counter tops. This continues until Rebecca finally puts her foot down and drags him to therapy.

In the bad route Renfield ends up falling back Into the pit of self-loathing that Dracula had dug out for him. He knows he got out of It before, but being trapped In It a second time only worsens the affects of his hatred for himself, and this time he doesn't try to get out. Over the course of a few months he lets himself fall apart more and more, not getting out of bed, not answering texts, not answering the door, etc. And when Rebecca finally decides to break down the door, he's gone. Renfield returns to the Lobo mansion and collects Dracula's pieces from the sewers, bringing him back to the hospital to heal him up and to get what he thinks Is his happy ending. Their relationship Is worse this time around, but Renfield would rather have a lifetime of pain than a life without Dracula.

Thank you so much for the ask! I love exploring Renfield's life after Dracula and his feelings and decisions he makes!

#dracfield #dracula #renfield #renfield 2023

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lukohan · 1 year

Text

Hey guys I just wanted to say hello to the fandom of linkeduniverse. I love them all but Wild, Twilight and Time are right now my favs.

All the artwork and fanfics are enjoyable. ALL OF THEM of what i have seen

I love everything so much I tried myself on a little fic featuring Twilight.

Enjoy!

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

Twilight returned to the inn they were currently staying at. His face hurt quiet badly and, when he saw it mirrored in the inns window, he saw how the bigger part of the left half of his face was covered in black and blue bruises.

“Shit, what happened?” Legend was there, oh great…

Twilight: “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Legend: “Nothing?”

Wind: “A whole lot of nothing?”

Warriors: “A whole lot of nothing to the face?”

Twilight was glad there was no one else to add to this. He grumbled: “Yes a whole lot of nothing to my face.” He sat on a chair and hung his head back, closing his eyes. He tried his best to deal with the pain but his head hurt a lot.

Legend: “A whole lot of nothing left some spectacular bruising.”

Twilight huffed and felt someone looming over him. He opened one eye to take a look.

“So?” Warriors stood with his hands on his hip and eyebrows raised.

“No.” Twilight answered flatly and tried to glare at him. But the pounding pain in his facial muscles made him grimace instead. He sighted and closed his eyes again, hoping they’d leave him alone.

Someone grabbed his arm. “Come on, you can tell us.” Wind was slightly shaking his arm.

“No.”

Legend: ”Seriously, who do we need to beat up for this?”

“No!” Twilight sighted. Coming back here was a mistake. He removed Winds hand from his arm. “I’m fine.”

He stood up and marched out of the inn. He heard yelling and could make out his name being shouted. On the street he rushed straight to a small sideroad and disappeared into the maze of the town. Twilight knew the others were going to tell everyone else about this and they all will worry. But right now he didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with overprotective and overly concerned brothers and a mentor.

He carefully touched his face and hissed when the pain flared up again. He should have taken a potion with him. Twilight gritted his teeth and went further into to maze of sideroads and alleys. He also knew he couldn’t avoid it forever. They would pester him with questions as soon as he returned. … Or was found, hopefully they wouldn’t come looking for him right away.

He really couldn’t put up with that right now.

Though Legend and Warriors hopefully opted to leave him be until he calmed down.

He was too tired… just so tired. Which is also the reason his face looked like this. He couldn’t sleep more than a handful hours in the last week, nightmares kept him up, his own or Wilds. Mostly his own. It wasn’t always this bad, a nightmare once in a while yes, sometimes one, ONE sleepless night, but never an entire week. But admitting that felt like a huge defeat, he saw no reason why it was suddenly so bad. And then todays embarrassing event happened, all because he couldn’t sleep due to some stupid and nonsensical dreams.

There is no way he was going to tell the others that he was so very tired he couldn’t properly react, when he almost stepped on a gray and black kittens’ tail but barely managed to avoid it only to trip down the stairs, he was too tired to notice they were there, and crashing face first into a wall. All because his reflexes suffered from the lack of sleep but he was not going to admit that. Never. Not to anyone. He was the supposedly Hero of Twilight and the big brother of the group. ... He had to be strong…

He gently buried his head in his hands and sat down, resting against a wall. Thankful that there was no one around.

His mind was too muddled to come up with an excuse. Too tired to explain things.

He groaned and thoroughly scanned the alley with the remaining energy he managed to muster. It was still afternoon but it was completely deserted.

The next moment not a single person remained in the ally, just a single wolf stood there. Twilight went to the next alley and found a comfortable spot in a corner to lay down, away from all noise and eyes. He’d take a nap and go back before sunset. By then he ought to have recovered enough to think of a believable story to tell.

When he woke up he felt the presence of someone else. The kitten, that he had avoided stepping on, laid next to him, curled up against his head. In fact, there were eight cats sleeping next and on top of him. He hadn’t notice any of them approaching or even climbing on top of him. But here they were. If the wolf could flash a smile he certainly would have done so. Twilight closed his eyes again and enjoyed the company, content with the soft and warm felling around him. It was still bright outside.

…

But the sun was kind of in the other direction. Looks like it was sometime in the morning.

MORNING!

Guilt washed through Twilight. The others would be terribly worried. They were definitively looking for him. Knowing them, probably throughout the entire night. And now he was the reason the others couldn’t get any sleep, just because he had been too tired.

Twilight gently shook of the cats. They loudly protested at the rude awakening but left right away. The kitten was the last one to leave his side, as if it was worried about him as well. It looked back at him from the end of the small alley the others had disappeared in, before running of itself.

Hm, since when did it have an orange spot on its forehead?

After his little long nap Twilight was completely refreshed although felling guilty and slightly angry with himself. But he hadn’t felt this rested in a long time. Maybe it was thanks to the kitten and its friends that he had had a peaceful sleep. After another moment to make sure no one was there he transformed back to human form and carefully felt his face once again. It still hurt quiet a bit and it looked probably worse than yesterday. He took a deep breath and then quickly made his way back to the inn. Thankfully he had now more than enough energy to come up with an excuse. Hylia, he would need one!

Needless to say, he was greeted with anger, worry, yelling, concern, curses and a tackle hug. But no one will ever know what actually happened.

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

Also here is the link to ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46605430

#linked universe #jojo56830 #I love your creation so much #a little fanfiction #lu twilight #linkeduniverse

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livesincerely · 1 year

Text

how ‘bout you tell me what you really think

Also on Ao3

00000

In Jack’s defense, he’s running on maybe three hours of sleep.

Finals are kicking every square inch of his ass—he’s got a stats test in the morning, a presentation due on Thursday, and he still needs to add about eight pages to his Art History paper—and he’s been sitting hunched over the kitchen table for so long that his spine is threatening to mutiny.

He rubs at his aching shoulders, sits back in his chair, and when he lifts his head his eyes land on Davey, who‘s sitting across from him. He’s got his own pile of books strewn out in front of him, one knee tucked up against his chest as he scrolls on his laptop, sipping idly at a cup of coffee.

And it shouldn’t be more than a passing glance. Davey’s just sitting there, quietly minding his own business, except that he’s definitely wearing Jack’s old varsity soccer sweatshirt, the one that he still won’t admit to stealing even after all this time, the fabric thin and faded from too many washes, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows because otherwise they’ll start to slip over his hands and—

And he hasn’t bothered to do much more than finger comb his hair these past few days, a mess of curls falling across his forehead and tickling at the nape of his neck, fluffy and shiny and touchably soft and—

And even as Jack watches, he starts doing that thing—that dangerous, devastating thing—where he bites absentmindedly at his lip as he’s thinking, the flesh turning red and swollen between his teeth and—

And Jack is really, truly, sincerely at his wit’s fucking end when he opens his mouth and says, “For Christ’s sake, Dave, can you please stop being so brain-meltingly beautiful for, like, two goddamn seconds?”

Davey’s head jerks up, his expression slack with surprise.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Jack insists. He points an accusing finger in Davey’s direction, just for good measure. “I need you to keep that shit on lock for at least the next forty-eight hours, okay? I literally cannot think straight with you sitting there looking like that, and if I don't pass this final I’m gonna have to retake the whole class next semester.”

Davey blinks several times. “Jack, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“You!” Jack says. “You and your…” He gestures at Davey’s whole entire everything. “I know you can’t help it, Dave, honest, I do, but these fucking finals are already grinding what’s left my brain matter into paste. I genuinely do not have the mental capacity to handle a war on two fronts right now—“

A war on two fronts, Davey mouths to himself, bewildered. His eyes are enormous behind his glasses, because of course he just so happens to be wearing his glasses, of course he is, the tortoise shell frames making his eyes look even bluer than usual. It’s goddamn infuriating.

“—so can you please, for the sake of whatever’s left of my sanity, just not?“

“Are you…” Davey starts slowly, dazed disbelief dripping from every syllable. “Are you yelling at me for…?”

He doesn’t finish the question, trailing off into open air, and there’s something about the absolute astonishment etched into every line of his face that has Jack slingshotting right past fed up, boomeranging around embarrassed, and landing squarely back in righteously pissed off.

“Oh, don’t act so shocked,” Jack says, jutting his chin up as he leans forward. “Sittin’ there, looking at me with those big fuckin’ eyes. You, with your hair and your hands and your smile and your goddamn eyes. You know. You know.”

“Know what?”

“That you’re—“ He waves a hand, so many words trying to spill out of him at once that they get jammed in the back of his throat. “Stupidly pretty. Unfairly attractive. Gorgeous. Breathtaking. Bonito, hermoso, guapísimo. Take your fuckin’ pick.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Davey asks, baffled—like he genuinely cannot fathom the possibility, even as he offers it up. “Since when?”

“Since—?” Jack splutters, derailed for a moment by sheer what-the-fuck-itis. “What’d’ya mean since when? Since always!”

“Uh, no,” Davey disagrees, still staring at him with those brilliant baby blues. “Pretty sure I would’ve remembered you ever saying anything like⁠—” He stops for a second, chewing anxiously at his lip, then asks, “You’re being serious? Like, you’re not fucking with me, right? Or is this some kind of finals-induced stress response? Actually, when’s the last time you got some sleep, Jackie?”

“I’m not fucking with you!” Jack snaps. “I mean, yeah, I haven’t really slept since Sunday, but that’s got nothin’ ta do with this⁠—”

Davey’s expression clears, the confused frown shifting into patient concern. “Jackie⁠—”

“⁠—And⁠ everythin’ ta do with the fact that you’re so fuckin’ attractive that it could almost drive me ta fuckin’ tears!” Jack continues, because if there was ever a hill to die on, it’s this one. “Literal tears, Dave, that’s how completely, batshit insane you make me feel on, like, a regular basis. And it’d be bad enough if I was only dealing with the supreme hotness that is David Jacobs by itself, but the fact that you’ve also got my heart in a vice really isn’t makin’ things any easier, obviously. I mean, if anythin’, you’re the one fuckin’ with me, when you know that I…”

By the time it starts to register, it’s already too late: that Davey’s mouth has fallen open, that his face has gone blank with shock, his arms wrapped around himself like he’s been kicked right in the gut.

“That.. I…”

Jack falters, then stops dead in his tracks, the blood draining from his face as he realizes.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

“I, uh… nevermind,” Jack manages to choke out, jolting to his feet. “I… It’s like you said before, I’m⁠— I’m stressed, I’m havin’ a mental break, I don’t know what I’m talkin’ about. It’s nothin’, it’s stupid, ignore me—”

“Jack,” Davey breathes.

“Honestly, forget I said anythin’. I jus’ need some sleep, need’ta get my head screwed on right⁠—”

“Jack,” Davey says again, rising out of his chair to mirror him, his voice caught somewhere between stern and tremulous.

Jack’s excuses peter out into nothing, his hands balled into nervous fists at his sides.

“Know that you what, Jack?” Davey asks, stepping closer.

Jack lets out a shaky exhale.

“Do we really gotta do this, Dave?” he whispers, defeated. “Do you really gotta make me say it?”

For a long moment, Davey doesn’t say anything. Then he whispers, ever so gently, “...Please?”

Jack’s heart pounds against his rib cage, his stomach twisted up in knots. “I love you,” he finally admits.

Davey sways on his feet, his mouth working soundlessly. “You… You’re joking.”

Jack can only look at him. “Davey.”

Davey swallows. “You never— Why didn’t you say something?”

“I thought it was obvious!” Jack says. “I thought…” He scoffs to himself, shaking his head. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter what I thought, since I’m obviously a fuckin’ idiot⁠—”

“You love me?” Davey asks, like he still can’t quite believe it. “You really think I’m⁠— That I’m beautiful, and⁠, and gorgeous, and you love me? You love me?”

Jack steels himself. Lifts his chin. Looks him right in the eye.

“You’re the light of my fucking life, cariño,” he says solemnly. “Of course I’m in love with you.”

Davey’s breath hitches in his throat, big blue eyes going impossibly wide. Then he steps forward and pulls him into a kiss⁠. It’s long and slow and sweet, the warm weight of him pressed to Jack’s chest, his lips plush and soft against Jack’s own.

It’s incredible. It’s everything.

“Davey,” Jack murmurs, wondrous, as they part. “You…?”

“I love you too, darling,” Davey says, his hand cupped around the nape of Jack’s neck, their foreheads just brushing. “I always have.”

It’s perfect.

00000

@sapphosboy

@dr-charlie-eppes

@stroopwafelposts

@amillionandonefandoms

@dreams-and-bones

@mainstreamelectricalparade

@wineandhargreeves

@thenoteworthyhelen

@rag-tag-ragamuffin

@ill-purple-your-nurple

@cosmic-croissant

@quynhorlose

#newsies #javid #Jack Kelly #David Jacobs #*editor's note #*the writing desk #*final cut #more accidental confession shenanigans #Jack has full-on lost his damn mind over how hot Davey is #they’re stupid your honor #I’m sorry for nothing

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shadowslocked · 2 years

Text

Erin Frost Analysis

With Erin Frost coming back into the spotlight with new, questionable, evidence I’ve decided to go through what she has provided and make sense of the situation

Back in June 21, 2021 Erin dropped a complaint about how working at Spindlehorse had seriously messed with her mental health to the point of not being able to work on animation. She then clarified - in the post I’m linking below - more details of the work environment of Spindlehorse such as terrible work conditions, abusive employees particularly a Sam Miller, and frustrations with production.

Erin’s Frost talks About Spindlehorse

Back when this first appeared, while I was skeptical of some parts such as making fun of the Villainous crossover and complaining about Dana Terrace - as Vivienne not liking to work with her is not of my concern - and suspected that Erin might have bit off more than she could chew given she was already working 30-40 hours in retail/food service, I was willing to give benefit of the doubt that Erin Frost had experienced bullying and terrible work conditions.

While I do not know Vivienne in any capacity I largely trust one close friend for insight to her character, since they were around when Hazbin was just a concept. Mainly because while they disagree with most if not all of the controversies regarding Vivienne, they could see her not being a good boss and creating the kind of environment Erin described even unintentionally.

However with the recent reappearance of Erin Frost with new evidence including screenshots, that benefit of doubt has all but evaporated into skepticism. As such I’ve decided to go over all the current evidence provided and look through it, mainly for my own piece of mind as I try to understand the situation.

Let’s start with this:

Erin claims that Jane is exposing her medical history with the intent to defame her character. Now it needs to be stated clearly that I don’t agree with Jane Walker sharing this info as it was clearly meant to be kept between her and Erin. However I would disagree with intent to defame, as this would imply Jane is making up or exaggerating information in order to make Erin look bad and/or hinder her work, and using her medical history is just one way to do so.

While Erin helpfully enhanced the section regarding her medical history, she also cut out a small bit of it of what Jane was talking about and left the rest of the conversation faded out.

In case this is hard to see, I’ve pulled up both.

Transcript, Jan. 15 2021

[Erin: Hi I wanted to move this into private but I was recently diagnosed with ADHD. I’m still working with a psychiatrist on a treatment that works. I know this is kind of extra of me, but I struggle with auditory processing at times. My brain will literally skip words and I think part of why the confusion happened was because of that. I know I already mentioned it but in the future I’d like to have things written out at clearly as possible. We can still discuss things but I don’t trust my brain not to screw me like it did last time u_u

Jane: It’s all good Erin! I’ve had brain struggles in the past too. I will be itemizing tasks from now on. Are you good for the four tasks I assigned due by Feb 1st? Again I’m more than happy to move tasks around if that’s too much, I just need to know ahead of time.

Erin: I got kinda upset the other night because]

Transcript, date unclear:

[Presumably Jane: -deadline missing thing, though if you can’t hit deadlines I can’t assign things to you.

Erin: Noted. I’d like you to take into account that I work a day job on top of freelancing so having assignments as far ahead of the deadline as possible would be appreciated.

Jane: I did ask on multiple occasions if you felt you were able to take on the work load and that I was more than willing to move things around to accommodate, so I do appreciate honesty in communication going forward

Erin: I think it’s best I pass off the Feb 1st assignments. I have a habit of miscalculating how much time I’ll need to complete an assignment. I also regularly overbook myself because I’m bad at saying no to people. I’d rather had off those assignments and spend the rest of January clearing off my plate [then?] making tenuous promises]

Given what we now see in full, Jane’s conversation with this third party doesn’t seem with the intent to defame but with intent to complain, more than likely about Erin’s inability to make deadlines and what appears to possibly be oversharing after Jane asked if she would be able to make the deadlines for February 1st. Which Erin passed on all four, wanting to instead focus on whatever assignments she has left for January

This would, understandably, frustrate anybody to have all of the assignments dumped rather than just a couple meaning now those assignments have to go to somebody else who hopefully doesn’t already have too much. Understandably Erin has her own life and was working at Starbucks, 30-40 hours, but deadlines are important to meet and your inability to do so will reflect heavily on you whether you like it or not. Add this to the fact that Erin largely keeps painting herself in a bad light - inability to say no leading to overbooking, habitually miscalculating time management, needing more time to work on projects that from the sounds of it should have been done to let her work on those for February 1st - paints Erin as an unreliable employee.

Still, despite Jane clearly not being happy about it in the conversation with the third party, she still appears professional and agrees to move things around and adjust to what Erin needs. Jane Walker’s feelings towards Erin, positive or negative, have no meaning to me, all I am focused on is whether she was trying to make Erin look bad and can only come to the conclusion that she was letting off steam to what she believed to be a trusted member. While I don’t think it’s wise to complain to other employee’s and/or co-workers particularly if you’re in charge, and especially don’t agree with sharing private convo’s like Erin’s ADHD history, I also cannot personally fault Jane Walker for the simple act of complaining as that would make me a hypocrite. We’ve all complained about co-workers after all.

Erin then claims that Sam Miller is using her authority to bully her, starting with this conversation with Jane Walker - February 18, 2021 - that then leads to talking with Sam Miller.

Having gone over this this conversation, it follows the same problems I noted in the previous evidence. Erin opens this conversation fretting over the workload as, again, she appears to have overestimated herself and miscalculated how much she can handle in the time frame. After going over everything that the task requires Erin tells Jane that getting them fully colored by the 22nd, which is four days away, is a stretch. There’s also the implication that something like this has happened before with “trying to be better about establishing my limits so we don’t have a repeat of last time.”

Jane Walker tells Erin that that Sam’s team will handle the chairs so that Erin doesn’t have to worry about it, which she doesn’t fight against, asking if Jane is sure and if she will need references.

February 20, 2021 - two days after the chairs assignment had been passed on - Erin Frost goes to Sam Miller to ask if there are any assignments she can do specifically with backgrounds.

Now I will say that Sam Miller does not come off as particularly nice. However Erin Frost claims that Sam is using her authority to bully her here in this screenshot and I am genuinely unsure what about it could be considered bullying.

There’s the off hand remark on the chairs being passed, but as much as I can read that as passive aggressive I can also just read that as just a simple “oh and there’s this, but that’s it.”

Erin tells Sam that she didn’t ask to pass them on, which to be fair is true, and that it was Jane who made that decision. Sam corrects her that actually she was the one who made the decision to take on the chairs assignment as Jane told her Erin couldn’t do it. Erin explains that she was only asking for clarification, but Sam points out that Erin had been unsure if she was going to meet the deadline in four days.

What becomes clear with these two screenshots lined up is that during her talk with Erin, Jane Walker must have also gotten in contact with Sam Miller about Erin being unable to meet the deadline. Which is why Jane tells Erin that Sam’s department will handle the assignment so she doesn’t have to worry about it. So it checks out that it was Sam who made the decision to take on the assignment.

It’s also true what Sam says, because Erin said “I can do them, I just think getting them in fully colored by the 22nd could be a stretch.” While Erin does express being able to do the assignment, she isn’t sure she can finish it altogether before the 22nd meaning it would be half-way done. If they’re trying to meet a deadline, this would not be a good thing which is why Sam takes it to her department.

Erin says she feels like she’s being penalized for a situation that wasn’t her fault, when previously she had no problem letting the assignment pass on to another department. There’s also the fact this isn’t entirely true as Erin admits in the talk with Jane that “-but it’s looking like a lot more than I originally thought.” This is also after Erin has expressed “ trying to be better about establishing my limits” once she allows the assignment to be handed over, and in the previous evidence where she admits to “not knowing how to say no to people, miscalculates how much time she needs, and overbooks herself.”

While Erin Frost may feel it was unfair and a punishment for the assignment to be taken from her - which again she had no problem with initially until this moment with Sam - I do think this is the right move on Sam Miller’s part.

Erin Frost expressed that she isn’t sure she can meet the deadline with a finished product, so Sam decided it was best for her department to handle it themselves as Sam said clearly “I cannot express how important this deadline needed to be hit” meaning this isn’t something they would be interested in waiting around for. The chair assignment was also clearly reaching Erin’s limits, being just a bit too much to handle, which is another reason that Sam decided to take the assignment.

We also have no indication that Sam Miller or Jane Walker are withholding assignments from Erin Frost, and given that both have appeared professional in their discussions with Erin - bar one line from Sam that I’ll get to - I find it unlikely that they wouldn’t inform her. However, it also needs to be pointed out that Jane has already told Erin that “if she can’t meet deadlines then [Jane] can’t assign anything to you.” Erin also has expressed needing a very specific window of time to do assignments but even then she has painted herself as largely unreliable in not understanding her own limits and taking on more than she can handle which we see first hand with these screenshots. If Sam and Jane had more work that needed to be done based just on these snippets from Erin I would be skeptical about giving them to her.

The only instance in Sam’s dialogue that makes me consider her rude is the line “Why would I have you do a job my artists could do and hit the deadline on time no problem?” which no matter what Sam may have been intending, does come off as passive aggressive. However, I can not consider this straight up bullying but a higher up being a bit of an ass, who should try to be more aware of her tone and what words she uses when talking with employees. If it wasn’t intended to be passive aggressive, then it’s a miscommunication which is significantly easier to do through text where tone is harder to figure out.

Altogether though I cannot consider this bullying, much less Erin Frost being punished when she was reaching her limit and unsure about if she could meet the deadline. The only other option aside from Sam not taking on the assignment would be to let Erin complete the assignment and then possibly be behind on the deadline, as there’s nothing to point to Erin being able to make it in time nor do any of the previous screenshots paint Erin in a positive light. It is not a punishment for an assignment you were unable to complete to be passed on to a larger group that can split the workload and get it done in the required amount of time, it’s a good move to not get behind on deadlines even if it feels unfair.

Erin Frost follows up with this afterwards:

We have no solid proof that Vivienne knows about any this, nor that she condones or encourages it. As for Sam and Jane getting the jobs due to being her best friends, this isn’t anything to be held against Vivienne given that she is running an indie project and close friends would be the most willing to jump into that kind of project. So long as Jane Walker and Sam Miller show that they can do the job and that they aren’t there just because they’re friends with Vivienne I don’t see this as a fault.

Moving on, Erin Frost then claims that Sam Miller and Jane Walker were trying to cover up her leaving using these two screenshots. Particularly that Sam had intentionally “gone after” another employee

I will say clearly that having read over these screenshots I’m not sure I can agree or disagree on the notion of a coverup.

Employees should always have a right to discuss why a co-worker left, especially in cases of have a toxic workplace environment. So Sam Miller saying “...no?” and then expressing to another it’s nobody’s business, and Jane Walker going “it feels like instigating” are definitely questionable. However neither of them explicitly tell people not to talk about Erin’s resignation, nor do they come off as forceful, just that it’s nobodies business.

In Sam’s case it sounded like it just happened and then she’s getting asked immediately afterwards about it when Erin’s resignation wasn’t made public. As such, I can understand Sam expressing that it’s nobodies business why Erin Frost resigned and then trying to figure out how people suddenly knew about it. Which Sam then leaves at “okay cool! I was just very confused” and then the conversation is over. If Sam had asked this third party to not mention Erin’s resignation at all, then that would be much more questionable.

There’s also the fact that, even if Erin had expressed her reasons for leaving was due to a toxic work environment, I don’t know why Sam or Jane would tell a random employee or any employee this. Not with the intent of cover up but largely because it can be a mood killer and that kind of information is something you would want to handle with other management and bosses.

As far as I can tell, Jane and Sam only want people not to ask them about Erin’s resignation as they feel it’s nobodies business. Questionable or not, it’s not enough to prove a cover up if they aren’t themselves enforcing it as a rule.

While I didn’t believe absolutely everything Erin talked about in her first post I was still wiling to believe that she had undergone some form of abuse while working with Spindlehorse as I have no in depth knowledge of what is going on behind the scenes and think it’s important to at least consider the possibility especially given we didn’t have proof at the time.

While the recent evidence has made me far more skeptical there is something else that has made me unable to fully trust Erin Frost. When she first came out with her claims, she also said this...

Erin Frost explicitly says she doesn’t blame anybody for wanting to just stay out of it and not jeopardize their livelihood. However after three months this stance has changed completely to Erin exposing Ashley Nichols as being one of her main supporters, and actively encouraging the fandom to go demand answers for why she didn’t speak up on the subject when it first appeared. Erin’s full Twitter Thread as of Oct. 26 2022

This is something I will always consider a dick move. No matter what comes after this post, what other evidence comes out, even if Ashley Nichols herself comes forward with the evidence Erin needs, I will never respect Erin Frost for this decision. Ashley Nichols does not have the incredible power like other people on the social platform, she isn’t small time from what I know, but she isn’t nearly on say Markiplier or Dreams level. The idea that Ashley, working on her own indie project that has yet to come out as of this moment, has this huge enough following and this incredible position of power that she can just risk everything to get into scandals and can sway the minds of the people does not make any logical sense.

It also, whether Erin Frost likes it or not, means that she can’t be trusted. Ex-employee’s that did go to her will now have to wait and wonder if eventually Erin decides she’s tired of waiting for them to come forward and will just expose them herself. We don’t even know if she has permission to use the screenshots from the ex-employee’s in this latest callout. Everything about this is a huge red flag that brings Erin’s character into serious question as all I can see is someone who is incredibly two-faced, claiming to be understanding but then throwing you under the bus as soon as she gets tired of playing nice and you meet her criteria as a perfect sacrifice for the mob of folks that want to know whats going on.

In the end, I feel like Erin’s evidence of workplace abuse is too weak and that her character is very questionable, and I hope that anybody who does come forward will do so because they want to and not because they feel like they have no choice.

Thank you for coming to my Shadow Talk.

#helluva boss #vivienne medrano #vivziepop #long post #you have been warned

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