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formulaforza · 1 year

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oh, simple thing— c.sainz

"the earth laughs in flowers" pairing: carlos sainz x female reader wc: 4.1k notes: guys remember when i used to write? back in january? crazy times. anyways.

You were five years old the first time you proclaimed that you were going to marry Carlos. It came, of course, after the implication that you would also be marrying Prince Charming (as long as he didn’t keep your glass slipper–shoes are a woman’s best friend, your mom had told you once and you never forgot it) and the gym teacher at your primary school, whose crush you’d never admit to anyone but your mom. Can you imagine the teasing? Thinking a grown-up is cute? It’s completely preposterous… or, when you were five, super-duper silly.

All three of the loves of your life were completely coincidental, coming to your brain while your mom read you a bedtime story completely coincidentally. You’d had gym class that day, of course. Played with the rolling scooters and argued with the older kids about getting a turn on the tube slide. Scooter day was always your favorite, so it was no surprise your teacher was in your good graces that evening. A

After dinner, while flipping lazily through channels on the big square television in the family room, your dad had clicked on the Disney Channel by mistake. Cinderella was halfway through and you threw a fit every time he tried to change the channel. You just thought she looked so pretty, in her big princess dress dancing at the ball.

Carlos, what had Carlos done to be in your good graces that day…? He wasn’t in your class, so you couldn’t enlist him in the war of the slides or crash into him on the scooters. He definitely wasn’t running around your house after dinner. If he was, your Mom would still be cleaning up after him somewhere in the house. Carlos, Carlos, Carlos… what had he–oh! That’s right! The flower on the way home from school. How could you ever forget the first flower? He’ll give you shit for it later.

Your mom and Carlos’ mom had been best friends long before you and Carlos burst into the scene. They liked each other more than just about anyone, and you never did understand how Reyes never tired of your Mother’s antics. She was always bossing you around, forcing you to clean up your toys and read your books. Carlos got away with whatever he wanted, his parents would even lie for him on his reading logs. Anyways, stay focused. Because your parents were such good friends, you and Carlos grew up side by side. Parallel play or bust, since neither of you were particularly apt at sharing. Everyday on the walk home from school, your moms would catch up on the gossip from the night before while you and Carlos tried to kill each other with various objects found on the sidewalk. This day, there had been eleven pebbles, two rocks, a stick, and Carlos’ metal water bottle (the one with the HotWheels logo on the side). Now, Carlos was charging at you with… a flower? A bluebell, one he’d picked straight from the ground, root and all hanging from his fist. When he held it out to you, you scowled. There wasn’t anything wrong with it. In fact, it was about as perfect as a bluebell from the sidewalk can get, but, you’re a little shit.

“It’s dead,” you said, took it from him and tossed it aside. “It’s not nice to pick flowers, Carlito. It kills them.” He burst into tears and your mother scolded you the rest of the way home, even though it was her who always told you to leave the wildflowers wild. After some time and consideration (a plate of dinosaur nuggets, half of Cinderella, and a bedtime story) you’d decided maybe Carlos was right to cry about the dead flower.

Carlos, it seemed, had gotten over the dead flower incident pretty quickly because, the very next day, he was already making a joke of it. He’d held up the walk home for fifteen minutes while he searched through a field in the park. Both of your mothers and Blanca had already shown him what had to be a hundred or so healthy, perky flowers. Carlos shook his head at each one of them, typical. You sat on the curb of the garden and played with the ants that had built a sandy hill beside your foot. You resisted the urge to stomp it, only because you knew you’d be lectured about leaving the bugs alone in the same way you were about leaving the flowers alone. After a lifetime–or enough time to have an after school snack–Carlos finally settled on the ugliest, most wilted flower you’d ever laid your eyes on. He presented it to you with a laugh and, because you’re just as stubborn as he is, you accepted the gift graciously and let it sit vaseless on your dresser for three days before someone threw it away.

Truthfully, though, the real reason you probably proclaimed your intent to marry him that night wasn’t some flower. It was that Blanca had defended you from his water bottle strike with a pebble to the back of his head, and you thought that would be a good kind of person to have as a sister.

Carlos was seventeen when he figured he’d probably end up with you eventually for the first time. There wasn’t anything romantic about it. It was more of an ah, fuck. It’s gonna be her, isn’t it?

Your families were in Mallorca, touring some vineyard–well, your parents were touring the vineyard. You, Carlos, and all of the siblings had snuck off from the group one by one and met up in the grove just outside the property. Carlos was bumming a cigarette from Blana when Ana finally turned up, stomping her way through the grass and wildflowers annoyedly. Carlos takes a puff of the cigarette and passes it over to you.

“You’re going to start a wildfire, you know?” Ana says, crosses her arms over her chest and pops out a hip all bratty.

“Ana,” Carlos groans, “shut the fuck up.” You exhale a puff of smoke through a laugh.

“If you’re going to be mean, I’m going back to Mom and Dad.”

“Okay,” he says, “have fun.”

“I will,” she proclaims, visibly annoyed that she isn’t drawing a reaction from her big brother. She loves to piss him off, everyone does, because it’s just so easy. “I’ll have sooo much fun telling them about how you’re all in the woods smoking. I’m sure Dad will love that, don’t you think, Carlos?” Blanca rolls her eyes. Sometimes it’s fun to mess with Ana, and sometimes keeping her humble becomes more of a chore than anything else.

Ana stomps away, her whole sneaky journey wasted, the group’s entire smoke session ruined by the pesky baby sister who can’t decide if she wants more to be included or to be a tattletale. “Don’t kill any more flowers on the way back!” Carlos calls after her, passes the cigarette to you again for one last puff before the lot of you have to make your way back to the winery, to the bathroom you’d all claimed to need to use over the past hour. Ana turns on her heels to make sure Carlos can see her eye roll. He just smiles, and you think if Carlos was your brother you probably would have killed him with your bare hands a long time ago.

You squat down to put the cigarette out in the dirt and Carlos digs a hole with his heel for you to drop it into, kicks the dirt back over it and stomps on it a couple times. “Fuckin’ snitch,” he mutters under his breath.

He snatches up one of the stomped on flowers, pulls it from the ground–root and all–and presents it to you. “You really are such an ass,” you say, take the flower and link your arm through his for the remainder of the walk back. “I love you,” you add, “but you’re an ass.”

You were twenty the first time your friendship with Carlos became a threat to one of your relationships. It wouldn’t be the last time. You’d been together for seven months, you and Mateo, Mateo and you. Met at a club in Barcelona and the rest was history. It was a simple conflict of interest, a scheduling woe. You were forced to make a decision. Your boyfriend’s grandma’s birthday party… or Carlos’ debut in Australia. To you, it seemed like the easiest decision in the world. His grandmother isn’t even that old–she’s got plenty of birthdays ahead of her, ones that you’d be happy to celebrate. But Carlos’ debut? Really? That’s once in a lifetime. It’s the shit you just don’t miss, even if you’re in the hospital or literally on your deathbed (which Mateo’s grandma is NOT, by the way. She lived seven more years according to recent Facebook posts).

“You’re going to Australia?” He’d scoffed when you told him, mentioned it so nonchalantly over dinner. When I’m in Australia, don’t forget to water the plants, or something along those trivial lines. He was just as offended as you were utterly confused. There’s no way he thought– “What about my abuela’s birthday?”

You’d laughed. The wrong thing to do, you know, but it was an action done without thought, without intention. “What about it?”

“You’re supposed to come with me.”

“I never said that,” you shake your head and he pulls a face. You set your silverware down and prepare for the coming argument. Normally, you’d just back down, but this is Carlos we’re talking about. Carlos, and his dream. Carlos, and his reality. “I didn’t,” you reaffirm.

He leans forward onto the table, elbows shaking the entire thing, rattling the wine glasses and ceramic against the wood. “I assumed you–”

“–I don’t know why you would assume I‘d be doing anything except supporting Carlos,” you say, more defensive than you intend to be. It’s just, you can already see where this is going, even if it’s never gone there before. You’ve watched the girls Carlos brings home look at him the same way Mateo is looking at you right now, or more importantly, how he doesn’t look at you.

“You know, I don’t either.” He nods, but it’s more of a full body movement, like he’s rocking forward, lips pursed and jaw tight. His eyebrows raise like he’s going to shrug, like he’s surprised with himself. You doubt you read the emotion right. “It’s always about Carlos, isn’t it?”

You lean back in your seat, cross your arms over your chest, close your eyes just long enough to hide the eye roll, and then you’re piling the silverware and the napkin onto the plate and moving the party to the kitchen sink. “I’m not doing this right now,” you say when you grab the wine glass carelessly.

“Oh, so you know what this is about, then?” He calls after you, gathers his things sloppily and follows you into the kitchen.

“You just said it’s about Carlos,” you say, slamming the sink on and clattering the plates into the bowl. Carlos had told you about these fights, about the ones he’s had with his girlfriends. You’d laughed about them, always thought it was so funny–the idea of someone left fuming by your friendship. The crazy assumptions, they couldn’t be more wrong if they tried. You and Carlos are nothing but platonic, you’ve always been platonic, you’ll always be platonic. When you know someone as long as you’ve known Carlos, they just become a part of you, build this little home in your soul that blends in so perfectly you could never cut it out with clean margins. It’s not just Carlos, either. It’s Blanca and Ana, too. Hell, it’s even Carlos Sr. and Reyes, but nobody ever seems to understand that.

“It’s my Abuela,” he says, like you’re supposed to be moved or something, and he sets his dishes in the sink on top of yours. “It’s her birthday, and you’re supposed to come with me. I told my family you were coming.”

“I don’t understand why you would do that,” you start scrubbing the first plate with far more aggression than required. You’re not a good fighter, you get mean, and you get mean quick. “I was never not going to Australia.”

He laughs, leans against the counter with his arms crossed, staring at the ground, at the crumbs waiting to be swept up. “Because you’re never going to choose me over Carlos, right?”

“Mateo.”

“Answer the question.”

You freeze, squeeze the soapy sponge in a fist until there’s nothing left to ring out of it. “I’m certainly not going to choose your Abuela over my friend. Over my brother.”

“He’s not your brother.”

You sigh, go back to cleaning. “He’s like my brother.”

“Yeah, if you wanted to fuck your brother,” he says, and meets your eyes with wide, proud eyes like he’d done something, caught you in some illicit love affair. You resist the urge to grab the wand from the sink and spray him with a jet of water.

Instead, coldly, you’d replied, “get out,” and pointed to the door.

His hands shot up in some great defense. Or maybe it was offense, you really never could read him that well. “I see how you look at him.”

In. Out. In, and then out. Deep breaths. “I said leave, Mateo.”

“Because you know I’m right.” In, then out. “You know how fucked up it is that there’s three people in our relationship,” in, out. “Four, if you count Carlos’ girlfriend! What do you think she thinks about all this? You looking at her boyfriend like your favorite candy?” In, then. In, then–in, and then you slap him with a wet hand, the contact reverberating into a splash, coating the walls and the ceiling and the entire fucking room in anger. Anger, and dirty dish water.

The anger is deafening, the room so quiet that the sink makes the kitchen sound like it’s directly behind a waterfall.

He storms off into the living room. You return to the dishes, hear the jingle of his keys, the door opening. “Fuck you!” You call after him, but what you really mean is Fuck Carlos.

When you get the breakup text a few days later, you’re not surprised. You put on your best face and pretend you never read it because while your boyfriend did just break up with you in a seven word text, you’re sitting out the back of the Toro Rosso motorhome watching Carlos pace.

You’ll tell him later, you think, after the race. And then, you don’t dare ruin the celebration, ride the high out until it can’t be ridden any longer. By the time you do get around to telling him, you’re all but moved on, mentioning it nonchalantly amongst the chaos of his first season. It falls away to the backburner, into irrelevancy, and Carlos never does ask what happened to sour the relationship. He does, however, have a wilted arrangement of flowers delivered to your front door with a handwritten note–ugly and dead, just like your relationship. You’d laughed for maybe twenty straight minutes.

Carlos was twenty-four when he realized he was in love with you, that maybe he always had been. He’d just broken up with a girlfriend, one whose name he hardly remembers now. Alessandra… Alena… Adrianna–oh, screw it. It was definitely an “A,” and if it wasn’t, he’s sure it was a vowel. Not the point. He was twenty-four and had just dumped whatever her name was because it just didn’t feel right. (What does right feel like at twenty-four? And how do you know it when you see it? The world may never know).

It was three races into the 2019 season, and he’d been having a particularly unlucky start with his new team. He’d spent the offseason relatively alone in Woking, finding his footing in a new place, a new team, a new car. Everything is gray, you’d told him the night he announced his impending move, scrolling through your phone at Google search results for the town. “It’s not gray,” he said, and without needing to say anything or flash him a look, he backtracked. “Okay, it’s a little gray.”

Three races in–an engine fire and two first lap collisions–in, and everything is feeling pretty gray, not just his rainy apartment (flat, he’s been taught to call it) in Woking. The cards felt stacked against him, and reluctantly, he’d called in reinforcements to Baku, a couple of good luck charms in the form of the people he loved. You, Ana, and Blanca flew in together and made Carlos come pick you up from the airport himself.

You climbed into the backseat and were anything but gray. You were glowing, completely and utterly sunkissed, and your hair was messy from travel but it reminded him of what you’re like after a good nap. Groggy and sleepy and desperate to stretch out like a cat. He hates that he knows how you like to stretch after a nap, the exact pattern of movements you do. Do you know how much time you have to spend with someone to memorize their post-nap stretch routine? Too much time, that’s how much.

You got into his car, all bright and sunny, and sure, his sisters were there and he loves them so much. But, you’re here, and you’re bright and sunny and everything feels just a little less gray. He pulls out from the airport and while he doesn’t realize that he loves you just yet, he knows something in him has been chemically altered by your smile, irrevocably so.

It’s Sunday when he realizes, somewhere between the checkered flag and the team debrief when you and the girls appear, practically crash into him like you’d been dropped down into the garage right from the sky. He hugs you, and you smell like sunshine. He wants to bash his head into the wall of his driver's room, to lay in front of Lando’s car and ask him to run him over because he’s not supposed to take note of the way you smell (unless it’s to call you out for smelling like shit).

You kiss his cheek and shove his shoulder because you’re so happy for him, because you’re always so happy for him. He doesn’t think it’s fair for someone like him to always have someone this happy for him. He loves that about you. He loves everything about you. He loves you. Fuck, he’s in love with you.

Lando nearly pees his pants over a tweet the next day. Carlos has reached a new level of Carlos-ing, it read, with a picture of him visibility distracted while being fed to the media pen. He can’t tell his teammate that the reason he’s so distracted is because he’s internally debating the pros and cons of ruining your friendship forever.

You’re twenty-four when you and Carlos start dating. The two of you drag it out for as long as humanly possible, stretch the patience of everyone around you so thin they won’t be surprised (or concerned) at the idea of you and him getting together. It’s scary. Really, really scary to admit your feelings for each other, to tell the rest of the world about it, but Carlos keeps bringing you these mis-shapen flowers, ones where the dye is soaked up poorly or they’re a couple days too wilted. It’s our thing, he would always say, and kiss you while you cut the stems to fit in your favorite vase.

He was right, it was something that was just yours. There was nobody else actively searching out dying flowers in the shops or carefully picking the dirtiest wildflower from its root on an evening walk through the city. That was just the two of you, and nobody else understood it.

“It’s gross,” a friend told you, twiddling one of the half-dead flower stems between her fingers while you shared gossip over glasses of wine. “You got these today and they’re ready to be thrown in the bin.”

“You don’t get it,” you’d swatted her words away. The dead flowers weren’t understood, and they didn’t need to be. They were special to you and Carlos, and when it came down to it, nothing else mattered to you.

“Seriously, though,” she’d continued, “It’s… I don’t know. Dead flowers, it’s just weird.”

Carlos is twenty-six when you break up. It’s mutual, it is. Even when it doesn’t feel like it’s mutual, when either one of you desperately searches to blame the other for the pitfalls, it’s still mutual, still two people who love each other. Who just aren’t in love with each other anymore.

There’s a lot of reasons if you want to get into it, but his new drive is the catalyst for pretty much all of them. Carlos is with Ferrari now, which is the dream, but it's also the nightmare. McLaren is iconic and historic but Ferrari… well. Everyone knows the Vettel quote, everyone knows the kid’s car is red. Ferrari’s Ferrari and you’re just… you. Time runs out, patience runs thin, and that’s the end of it.

You’re twenty-seven when you see him for the first time post-breakup. It’s a setup by your parents. Mallorca and the vineyard, again. You don’t think anything of it, so much has happened in the last decade and Mallorca is half of Spain’s favorite vacation destination.

He’s sitting with his family at the bar, the whole clan of them sipping from a wine-tasting tray. His eyes shoot up to meet yours with the loud creak of the old, heavy doors. He does a double take, and your stomach turns into a ball of knotted necklaces.

During the same tour you’d been on all those years ago, you sneak off with the same excuse you’d used. Blanca and Ana don’t follow after you to debate the environmental damages of bumming a cigarette in the grove or to threaten to snitch on you to your parents. They stay behind and listen and you stomp through the wildflowers to get some air. You’re already outside, Carlos would say if he were there. You’re my dirty air, you’d tell him, and he would roll his eyes, shove his hands deep in his pockets and rock on his heels.

He knows you’re not in the bathroom, there isn’t a single nerve in your mind that thinks he doesn’t know exactly where you are. He doesn’t sneak off behind you. You gather your thoughts in the grove by yourself, leant against a tree older than you’ll dream of being. You pick a wildflower, one that looks picture perfect, snap it carefully from the root and stick the stem behind your ear.

When you return to your party, they don’t notice you’ve been gone for far too long to use the bathroom or that you’ve got a flower in your hair. Well, all of them except Carlos, who slows his walking pace to drop to the back of the group next to you. “Nice flower,” he comments quietly.

You nod, watch your feet as they move in synchronized steps with him on the grassy path. “Thanks.”

“It’s dead,” he adds, and you smile dimly. “It’s not nice to kill the flowers.”

Carlos is twenty-eight when he’s perusing the birthday card section at the local gift shop. He’s trying to find one that perfectly sums up his birthday wishes for you. It has to be sunny and happy and so, so sorry for everything (even when it’s nobody’s fault). It has to say, I’ll always love you without saying I am still terribly in love with you. It has to be subtle and obvious and endearing and serious and funny. It has to be everything his words can’t be.

He eventually settles on one, tucks it into the yellow envelope and licks it shut. He handwrites your name on it messily, like you could get confused about who it’s for and need a label, or like he has a stack of yellow envelopes for dozens of other people sitting sealed on his kitchen counter. He goes to the florist next, picks out a stock arrangement from the fridge and a package of flower seeds. The final stop on his city tour is your apartment. Three knocks on your door, and then you’re undoing the deadbolt.

“Hi,” you say, confused by his presence on your welcome mat.

“Happy Birthday,” he smiles. “This is the last time I get you dead flowers.”

You and Carlos are thirty at your wedding. He cries when you walk down the aisle and there isn’t a single real flower in your bouquet. It’s all fake, and one of your friends asks if you’re worried it might look tacky or cheap. Anyone who thinks that shouldn’t be at our wedding, you’d told them.

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lilac-5ky · 9 months

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The one where he carries you home after a fight (Toji xFem!Reader)

A/N: My 7AM sleepless demons wrote this, not me.

warning: mentions of alcohol

Series Masterlist

“Thanks for coming, Toji. She wanted us to hit Roppongi next.”

“No problem.” Toji mutters as he lifts your limp body over his shoulders—arms thrown over his neck and knees buckled around his torso.

He nearly winces at the overwhelming stench of tequila emanating from your breath, praying that the wetness seeping through his shirt is drool and not vomit, though that’s more like wishful thinking. You are wasted. Completely and utterly drunk out of your mind to the point where you can’t differentiate the setting or those around him.

“Mistah, drop me off at the next station,” you slur with your eyes closed, pointing somewhere on the horizon before nodding off again. This was the third time you repeated that motion.

“How much did ya make her drink?” Toji doesn’t ask so much as accuse the two women, who are quick to shut him down with the dirtiest of looks. Nothing new. Your friends never liked him, and the feeling’s mutual.

“Make her?” Utahime huffs, rolling her sleeves over her elbows. “She’s the one who dragged us out on a Tuesday night. If anything, you’re the one to blame—you pushed her to it!”

“Senpai, calm down already.” Shoko lowers her friend’s fists. Out of the two, she’s the better one at acting like she tolerates him. “What did you fight over, anyway?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

With the way you stormed out the door in your finest high-heel shoe, black party dress, and red lipstick combo, he’d expect your lovers quarrel to make headlines by midnight.

However, they both shake their heads negatively.

“Who knows?” Toji flashes an oblivious smile before he gets you going. You were so angry at him earlier, and in all honesty, he did cross a line or two, but it doesn’t feel all that important now. Come tomorrow, this will become just another entry in your record of petty arguments to look back on and laugh at.

You’ve made it halfway up the slope that leads to your crappy apartment building when he catches you flailing around on his back like a fish fresh out of water. He slots his hands into the crevices beneath your thighs, applying enough pressure so that you won’t fall.

“Rise and shine, sleepy-head.”

Your slow blinks turn rapid the second you realize your feet aren’t touching the ground and you’re piggybacking on a stranger. “W-Who are you?”

“Ya don’t remember?” Toji rolls his eyes with a loud tsk. “What was it again? Mister Taxi? Mister Killjoy? Or Mister Buzzkill?” He goes through the different names you bestowed on him in your sleep.

“Mister… Buzzkill?” Your jaw drops slack on his shoulder, only for your palms to clap at his chest in excitement a minute later. “Mister Buzzkill, I remember! You kidapped me from my friends and spoiled our fun!”

“More like your friends got sick of your ass and called me to pick up the pieces.” He argues. “Hold on tight if ya don’t wanna fall. Climb’s steep from now on.”

Strength returns to your arms as they cage his neck. “Where are you taking me, Mister Buzzkill? Are we going to party?”

“Don’tcha think you’ve had enough partying for one night, princess?” He grunts. “We’re goin’ home.”

“Home? Whose home?”

Toji’s starting to miss the you that nags him about not soaking his dirty dishes. Alcohol always chips away at your mental capacity, and while he wants to be understanding, he can’t understand that which he’s never experienced for himself. “Our home, dummy.”

The epithet doesn’t faze you in the slightest. “Are you going to exploit me?”

“Prospect makes you happy?” You hum in return. “Fine. You can pay for the ride once we make it home.”

“But…” And you sound so sad that he cocks his head to peer at your face, glassy, puppy eyes welling up with fat tears that make him wonder whether he said something hurtful again. “I don’t have any money. My husband said we’re out of money ‘cause he—he gambled it away.”

The cogs in his brain are put in reverse, reminding him of the cash he snatched from your open wallet with the intention of waging it on a guaranteed victory and the little white lie you took at face value. You didn’t even give him the chance to explain that the bills were still in his pocket because the race was called off, and he let you run off to your friends without offering a single apology.

“I’m sure we’ll work something out.” Toji squeezes your thighs reassuringly. “Ya can pay me back in kind, too.”

“But my husband—”

“Your husband is a shithead.” He spits out, hoping that his remorse registers without leaving behind any actual trace of his words.

“You are so kind, Mister Buzzkill. Unlike him—my Toji.” The fingers of your one hand pull on your wedding band until it comes off. “Wanna marry me again, Mister…Toji?”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Toji catches the wedding band right before it slips from your fingers to the street. Part of him wants to scold you for being a scatterbrained nuisance, but the part of him that finds even your plastered form endearing comes out on top.

He slides the ring around the ring finger of his ring-less hand and pieces your hands together, holding onto them until you finally reach the front door and you’re sober enough to call him by his name.

“A’right, we’re here.” Toji declares once the key’s inside the hole.

He calls out your name and shakes you softly, but there’s no answer coming from you other than a single embarrassingly loud snore. He lets go of your legs and slowly puts your feet on the floor before hoisting them up in the air again, shifting to carrying you into bridal position. Your hands reach around his neck on their own volition, and he swears your lips curl into the softest smile when your nose pressed against his shirt.

He sighs, parting the hair that’s fallen inside your agape mouth.

“What am I gonna do with you?”

#toji x reader #jjk x reader #toji headcanons #toji drabbles #toji fluff #toji x yn #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro

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thatbitchery · 4 months

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Just in case you needed a guide to human relationships & interactions and how to actually relate to people I have one for you, & it's made of 3 parts.

People are different from you. There's literally not one human being out there exactly like you, you could have an identical twin with the same parents same childhood &c and I promise you you're nothing alike. You've lived such different lives despite 75% similarity in DNA. Understanding that people form their opinions belief systems worldview & c on individual experiences based on their trauma, family dynamics, cultures, home value systems, literally climate etc and we are all different will save you from easily getting triggered when someone doesn't share your opinion bc you're not in their shoes you don't know why they have/that/ opinion so you have no grounds to go feral. People are different from you. Understand this & save yourself the embarrassment of pointless arguments & little virtue locks because you cannot fathom different opinions when it's literally the one single truth. Understand this sk you're not going to war with people on the reblogs for not having the same pov. Yours makes sense to you. Theirs makes sense to, them. Who are you to decide whose is the absolute truth?

You are not a God get off your little high horse you're a human being. People do not owe you worship or discipleship. They don't have to believe everything you say or buy into you. Well within their rights to look at what you say or do and say yeah that's a load of bullshit. You're not a God so you're not always right, remember this the next time you're about to lay your life on the ground over an opinion, you could be wrong. Nothing will hurt you more than that thewizardliz my way or no way mindset. Remember the things you used to defend with your life when you were like 10 that you're rn absolutely disgusted by? Leave space & never speak in absolutes & never degrade another's opinion to the ground, you could be wrong & it will be very very very embarrassing for you when you find out you were.

Everyone is right, all the time. There is no absolute in this universe. Unlearn debates they're mighty pointless, everyone is right every single time. Truth is very subjective so the girl that has been traumatized by M3n saying all m3n deserve d3ath is right, if you were her you'd say the same thing and the v3gan is right & the carnivore is right & the conservative is right & the liberal is right- because everyone is right all the time and I promise if you were in their shoes, you'd see it. You'd see it. Even when someone Says the dumbest stuff known to existence, from where they are standing, they're right. Debates are pointless. Extremely. You can not fathom the kind of life others have had, not even your siblings or children- what then gives you the confidence to decide what should be right to them? Know your place.

So human interactions work better when you understand these, they just do. Once you no longer feel the need to justify your pov because you know you're literally the only one with it it's just makes things, easier thats why the apostle Paul said to never argue with people about opinions, its useless & tempts them and you to sin. It makes you more understanding & empathetic & pleasant & sophisticated to be around, it's the winners draw. You unlearn the need to argue because you know they'll never see it like you and you'll never see it like them so you take the high road and find middle ground or nod along and go home or find a way to say I don't agree, but I can accommodate that you think like that, and watch how people completely flock to you. There's no power , at all, to 'my way or no way' find your own little planet & leave that thewizardliz mindset on YouTube. Human beings are social relational creatures, part of relationships is accommodation.

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pasukiyo · 1 year

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𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | sebastian sallow

sebastian sallow x f!prefect reader note; hogwarts house is entirely up to you except gryffindor oops, reader and sebastian are both in the seventh year 1,302 words warnings; a little bit of a suggestive ending

“perhaps, if you two are done arguing, it’s best if you return to your common room before i give you detention.”

the two second year gryffindors jumped and squealed at her presence, the boy on the left nearly toppling over the boy on the right, in which his lips pursed and his eyebrows knit together in a scowl. “damn, prefect,” one of them muttered, and a chuckle bubbled in her chest. “and with that language, you’re lucky i can’t take points from other houses,” she mused. “now, to your common room!” the corners of her own lips curved into an amused smile as the two boys scattered away towards their common room, muttering insults to one another the entire way, sneaking glances back over their shoulder at her, as if to make sure she were still watching.

she spun around on her heel and continued further through the corridor, softly humming to a tune she’d heard in london during summer break. the hallways were silent, as they usually were at this time of night, save from the chattering coming from the portraits on the walls. her own shoes clicked against the stone floors and echoed throughout the hallway with each step she took, seemingly the only thing truly alive in the corridors.

that was, until she caught a glimpse of a familiar head of brown hair.

she gasped and stepped backwards when she saw it, clutching the wall she hid behind and poked her head out just enough to be able to peek at the boy sneaking his way through one of hogwarts’ many hallways.

it was none other than sebastian sallow, of course, a slytherin boy in the seventh year, same as she. she pressed her lips together as they curved into an amused grin whilst he turned his head from side to side, making sure his coast was clear. he seemed to have been staring at the wall she had sought shelter behind a moment too long, but if the thought that she, or another prefect, could be behind it crossed his mind, he certainly didn’t act on it.

the corner of his lips curled into a small smirk as he deemed it safe to come out of hiding, sauntering away from her, his head a little higher than it was before. laughter bubbled in her chest, and her cheeks grew warm as she suppressed the urge to giggle. she, too, stepped out from her hiding place, an eyebrow cocked as she clasped her hands behind her back.

“you’re up well past curfew, sebastian,” her voice permeated the corridor and the slytherin boy halted at once, his shoulders slightly scrunching at the sound of her voice. for a moment, he didn’t move at all, everything silent save for her footsteps drawing closer towards him. at last, he spun around on his heel as she ambled up, her lips a crescent on her face, giving her skin a glow as if it really were the moon itself. “so, what is it this time, hm?” she inquired. “sneaking into the restricted section again?”

sebastian rolled his eyes at this, but his lips twitched upwards, as if he were suppressing his own urge to smile. “nothing that should concern you,” he replied, in which she cocked an eyebrow, glimpsing down to the prefect badge glimmering proudly on her robes. “nothing that concerns me? me, a prefect, whose job literally concerns what you are doing right now?” she tittered, and he emitted a breathy chuckle, nodding his head. she rolled her eyes, “i’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong, sebastian.”

sebastian threw his head back as he groaned, her name slipping past his lips, gazing back down at her with a more pleading look in his eyes. “oh come on, we like each other, don’t we? so can’t you just forget you ever saw me tonight and act like nothing ever happened?” he tried to reason, and she couldn’t help but feel her cheeks warm at the part where they liked each other.

she shuffled an inch closer towards him, her eyes narrowing in a teasing glare. “and risk getting on professor black’s bad side?” she scoffed. “yeah right. do you know how hard i’ve worked to be on his good side? or, at least, his not-so-bad side?”

sebastian cocked his own eyebrow, “what about me?” he whined, and her teeth caught her lip. how dare he be so adorable? “so if it came down between me or professor black, you’d choose black?”

she sighed, dramatically heaving her shoulders as she gazed up at the ceiling, as if deep in thought. “mmm,” she hummed, thinking. “well, one could definitely benefit from sucking up to the likes of professor black.”

sebastian fought his smile as he jut his bottom lip out into a pout, playfully giving her arm a slight push. “you are horrible. absolutely horrible.” her teeth slipped through the cracks of her smile, and sebastian shifted his feet beneath him, the lump at the base of his throat bobbing, his tongue swiping between his lips as his gaze flickered down to her own. she, too, watched his tongue as it wet the soft flesh, and she sunk her teeth into the inside of her cheek.

“well, i suppose i can’t let you off the hook,” she sighed. “you know, because i would be jeopardizing my reputation with professor black if i did,” she added, and he rolled his eyes. “yeah, i got that,” he grumbled. she hummed again, her gaze trailing down his body, and when she looked back up to meet his eyes, she could see the beginning of something new, his pupils becoming a backdrop behind the fires of anticipation, flames searing his freckled cheeks.

at that moment, their minds were on the same wavelength.

she stepped closer until he hovered over her, eclipsing the light emanating from the candelabras. he was close, dangerously close, and when she looked up at him, their lips and noses were almost touching, their breaths mingling with one another. she could hear her heartbeat in her ears and she wondered if sebastian could hear it, just as he wondered if she could hear his. she felt like she could melt in a pool of magma at his feet just by the warmth coming from his body alone.

“so perhaps, a detention of my own accord will suffice?” she whispered it, as if someone was nearby, listening in, which was entirely possible at hogwarts. who knew where peeves or any of the other ghosts could be lurking?

the flames in sebastian’s irises raged like a wildfire now, and it only took a few missed heartbeats before sebastian’s fingers were linked together with her own, and he was drawing her in even closer than before, his lips pressing against hers for a much anticipated kiss. he leaned back as if he intended to pull away but she wouldn’t let him, leaning herself forward to catch his lips again, and he smiled, in which she returned. sebastian tugged her even closer by the hand, his opposite arm slithering around her waist, his palm pressing against the small of her back to hold her even closer.

she kissed him hungrily, much to his satisfaction, as he drank her in as if he hadn’t touched water in weeks. they only pulled away when they needed air, their chests heaving up and down against one another as they drew air back into their chests. they both chuckled as they held each other’s gaze, and once again, sebastian was grasping her hand, backpedaling and dragging her along with him.

“i think i know the perfect place where we can have.. detention,” he winked, and she giggled as he turned, picking up his pace as he led her towards the entrance to the undercroft.

a/n; me? posting two days in a row?? have no idea how i’ve had this much motivation to write but hey, i’m writing!!!

#hogwarts legacy sebastian #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy x reader #wizarding world #harry potter imagine #harry potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fic

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pherelesytsia · 1 year

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Lurking in the Shadows

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x female/pregnant/Reader

Summary: As Halloween draws near, Charlie's mother worries that even Thomas will fear the costume of his son.

Warning: fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

a/n:. Requests are open!!!

The costume, wicked and haunting, forcing to cross the street if gazes met, suited Charlie well. The eyes of a wolf, a hawk circling over fields and cities in search of prey, a lost bunny searching for the hole in the muddy ground pierced the darkness looming beyond the windows.

The grin on Y/N´s lips grew, did not fade away, and not even bloodcurdling news could wipe it away. Gently, her fingers glided over the costume. Nervously, Charlie bit down on his lower lip, crouched and gazed from his mother to the closed door, listening to the voices mingling freely, but he did not understand any of the words echoing throughout the mansion. Y/N kneeled in front of her son. Mumbling, her fingers adjusted the shoes, perfecting the costume.

"Do you think the others will like my costume? I've seen Karl. He is a ghost. I don't fear ghosts.", "Charlie, you were a ghost last year. We need to get more creative and I have to admit that if I didn't know you, I would hide in fear for my safety. You have the scariest costume I have ever seen in my life." Y/N spoke, fixing his tousled hair, hearing the secret message, the fear lingering in his shaking voice.

The light flickered.

"Are you going to put on a costume, too? You would be a beautiful princess.", "Thank you, Charlie, but I will stay at home. I will accompany you downstairs and then Arthur, Polly and if I am not mistaken, John will wander from house to house with you and the other children. And I will wait for your return and then you can tell me what creepy creatures you have seen lurking around the streets." Y/N continued.

Gazes met.

"And what about father? Won't he come with us? He told me he would think about it." Charlie inquired.

The smile faded away. Y/N exhaled and looked apologetically at her son, whose costume she had perfected to the smallest detail. She caressed his cheek, removed the thread from his shoulder and smiled, wordlessly answering the question he had asked.

"Father promised me," Charlie argued.

"My sweet little boy, your father fears for my safety and he promised he would wait with me. You can tell us everything then, and we will listen." Y/N breathed and calmed the boy with a mere gesture.

"I understand, mom. I hoped. Dad promised me he would come with us, with me." Charlie spoke, tried to stay strong, but his voice betrayed him.

Blaming the hormones, Y/N blinked away the tears and smoothed his hair.

"Please don't be sad. Do not be mad at your father, he wants to protect me and fears I might feel unwell or end up sickly in bed, or faint if nobody is here. Imagine one day, in a few years, you get to accompany your sibling on this spooky day and protect them from ghosts and knights, but enough of that, we should go downstairs. The others are waiting." Y/N said. The smile on his lips dispelled the tears.

"Next year?", "No, my little boy, but in three or four years." she laughed and squeezed his right hand.

Groaning, Y/N rose from the floor. Hands enveloped hers, helped her, came to her aid. Charlie smiled, clasped her hand graced by a golden ring, and guided her towards the door. His eyes kept sliding back to his mother, watching her every move. The fear disappeared, faded into oblivion and Charlie opened the door, bowed elegantly, a high-born soldier, and followed the endless corridor. The gramophone played a song. With every step they took towards the stairs, the voices grew louder. Peals of laughter mingled with deep voices.

Stairs creaked, and pairs of eyes fell on the couple. Grins grew wider. The voices grew softer. The suit, dark as midnight, fitted him well. His shoes were polished. The hair lay to one side. His face was cold, blank and expressionless, a statue, staring down at the men and women. Eyes, twinkling and gleaming, looked at the boy who had taken his father's place. A pitch-black waistcoat hid the white shirt. Out of the small pocket, Charlie retrieved a silver pocket watch, opened it with a push of a button, and shook his head. A sound escaped his lips.

The siblings had to stifle a laugh, remembering what Y/N had said, her words about finding the most terrifying costume with Charlie, that people would freeze in fear and even the strongest of men, boxers facing the enemy in the ring with risen fists would tremble, and the prophecy was true. But no fear was boiling in the stomach. Curious eyes settled on Thomas staring at his double walking with his wife towards the group.

Charlie's face was strangely stiff, overshadowed by greyness.

"It's late. We're heading out. We don't have fucking time to waste. And no fucking fighting." spoke the faint yet firm voice.

Y/N hunched forward, trying to walk beside Charlie and not to laugh, amused by the sight of her baffled husband.

"Was that good? And you didn't give me any cigarettes.", "Perfect, but you don't have to swear like your father and I certainly won't give you any cigarettes.", Y/N whispered, fighting tears.

"Of course, brother. You had a drink, right? I'd better drive, kids ride with us after all. Your wife looks particularly beautiful these days. The pregnancy suits her well and I am convinced it will be a girl." Arthur spoke in a firm voice, trying to sound as stern as possible.

With his right hand, he gestured the children to follow him.

"What should I say?" asked a weak voice.

"Nothing. Your father is not a man of many words. Nod and go, as we discussed." Y/N replied.

She eased away from the young one, nudging him forward and the boy understood and strolled with larger strides towards his father.

"Good evening, Mister Shelby," he spoke.

Thomas shook his head, stared down at the carbon copy. Nothing escaped his gaze, found a difference, the golden ring, the sign of eternal loyalty and love was missing.

"Good evening, Mr Shelby. I have heard a lot about you and we should form an alliance. I have contacts that might be useful to you. And I must say your wife is a breath-taking woman.", "Of course, Mister Shelby, but I must go now, my colleagues, my brothers are waiting. I look forward to hearing from you." Charlie spoke sternly, cold as possible.

"Goodbye, Mr Shelby. During your absence, I will keep your wife company." Thomas replied.

He said goodbye to his son, following the others out of the mansion. Shaking his head, Thomas looked after Charlie. His eyes sparkled, not understanding what had happened. The stiff wind did not howl through the corridors of the house. Footsteps echoed again and with slow steps Y/N walked towards her grinning husband, listening to raucous laughter piercing the calmness of the night. Hands settled on his body, brushed the weight off his shoulders with an affectionate gesture, and lowered her head onto his back. Bright lights illuminated the nightfall and the blueish automobile drove off and faded beyond hills and rising mist.

"That was the surprise you couldn't tell me, the secret between you and Charlie?" Thomas inquired, turning away from the window.

Silence returned. In reassuring gestures, Y/N stroked the bulge, no fabric nor coat could hide and nodded.

"Exactly. Charlie wanted an unusual costume. Every kid dresses up as a ghost or a knight. Girls are witches and princesses and, according to some people, there's nothing creepier, scarier than Thomas Shelby. Do you like it? I had to cut his hair today, too." Y/N chuckled.

Lowering his hands on her waist, Thomas turned his wife in his arms and lowered his head onto hers.

"It's the worst, goosebump-inducing costume I've seen in my life and the sight of the man will haunt me in my worst dreams. I need a psychologist," he joked. "And soon I will see him again. He wants to meet me, talk about business. I am dreading the encounter." Thomas continued.

Y/N looked up. The light was touching his face. The eyes sparkled. Gently, his fingers slid down her lower back. He wanted to be closer to the love of his life, but the belly made it difficult. His lips were clamped shut. The corners had turned white. Grinning, he gazed upon his wife, couldn't hold the walls of protection up. Stone crumbled. Thomas laughed, chuckled in delight, couldn't comprehend it, laughed and grinned and Y/N was persuaded she had never heard these delicate sounds, this melody touching her heart, in her life.

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tleeaves · 16 days

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Folks going "WHAT they made a show about the Fallout franchise?? I've been hearing people say Bethesda messed it up, but I haven't watched it myself, so I'm going to trust the word of other people -- some of which also haven't finished watching it" is driving me insane.

Being a hard core fan of something obviously brings with it a lot of passionate feelings when adaptations come into play. Of course, there's going to be people going "but in 8 episodes of the first ever season they made, they didn't explore Theme C or D, didn't introduce factions E and F and G, and because the source company is notorious for its scams, we and everyone else who's a TRUE fan should hate it".

The Amazon Original series Fallout follows the videogame franchise of the same name. It is a labour of love and you can tell by the attention to detail, the writing, the sets, and YES THE THEMES ARGUE WITH THE WALL. It's clearly fan service. I mean, the very characterisation of Lucy is a deadringer for someone playing a Fallout game for the first time. She embodies the innocent player whose expectations drastically change in a game that breaks your heart over and over again. Of course, she's also the vessel through which we explore a lot of themes, but I'll get to that.

There're some folks arguing that the show retcons the games, and I gotta say... for a website practically built on fandom culture, why are we so violently against the idea of someone basing an adaptation on a franchise that so easily lends itself to new and interesting interpretations? But to be frank, a lot of what AO's Fallout is not that new. We have: naive Vault dweller, sexy traumatised ghoul that people who aren't cowards will thirst over, and pathetic guy from a militaristic faction. We also have: total atomic annihilation, and literally in-world references to the games' lore and worldbuilding constantly (the way I was shaking my sister over seeing Grognark the Barbarian, Sugar Bombs, Cram, Stimpaks, and bags of RadAway was ridiculous). Oh, and the Red Rocket?? Best pal Dogmeat? I'm definitely outing myself as specifically a Fallout 4 player, but that's not the point you should be taking away from this.

The details, the references, and the new characters -- this show is practically SCREAMING "hey look, we did this for the fans, we hope you love it as much as we do". Who cares that the characters are new, they still hold the essence of ones we used to know! And they're still interesting, so goddamn bloody interesting. Their arcs mean so much to the story, and they're told in a genuinely intriguing way. This isn't just any videogame adaptation, this was gold. This sits near Netflix's Arcane: League of Legends level in videogame adaptation. Both series create new plots out of familiar worlds.

Of course, those who've done the work have already figured out AO's Fallout is not a retcon anyway. But even if it was, that shouldn't take away from the fact that this show is actually good. Not even just good, it's great.

Were some references a little shoe-horned in to the themes by the end of the show, such as with "War never changes"? Yes, I thought so. But I love how even with a new plot and characters, they're actually still exploring the same themes and staying true to the games. I've seen folks argue otherwise, but I truly disagree. The way capitalism poisons our world, represented primarily through The American Dream and the atomic age of the 45-50s that promoted the nuclear family dynamic -- it's there. If you think it's glorifying it by leaning so heavily into in the adaptation, I feel like you're not seeing it from the right angle. It's like saying Of Mice And Men by John Steinbeck glorifies the American Dream, when both this book and the Fallout franchise are criticisms of it. If you think about it, the post-apocalyptic world of Fallout is a graveyard to the American Dream. This criticism comes from the plots that are built into every Fallout story that I know of. The Vaults are literally constructed to be their own horror story just by their mere existence, what they stand for, what happens in each of them. The whole entire show is about the preservation of the wrong things leading to fucked up worlds and people. The missions of the Vaults are time and again proven to be fruitless, unethical, plain wrong. Lucy is our brainwashed character who believed in the veritable cult she lived in before she found out the truth.

So then consider the Brotherhood of Steel. I really don't think it exists in the story to glorify the military. We see just how much the Brotherhood has brainwashed people like Max (also, anything ominously named something like "the Brotherhood" should raise eyebrows). Personally, I don't like Max, but I am intrigued by his characterisation. I thought the end of his arc was rushed the way he "came good" basically, but [SPOILERS] having him embraced as a knight in the Brotherhood at the end against his will -- finally getting something he always wanted -- and him grimly accepting it from all that we can tell? Him having that destiny forced upon him now that he's swaying? After he defected? If his storyline is meant to be a tragedy, it wouldn't surprise me, because Fallout is rife with tragedies anyway. And a tragedy would also be a criticism of the military. That's what Max's entire arc is. It goes from the microcosm focusing on the cycle of bullying between soldiers to the macro-environment where Max is being forced to continue a cycle of violence against humanity he doesn't want to anymore because a world driven to extremes forces him to choose it to survive (not to mention what a cult and no family would do to his psyche). Let's not forget what the Brotherhood's rules are: humankind is supreme. Mutants, ghouls, synths, and robots are abominations to be hated and destroyed. If you can't draw the parallels to the real world, you need to retake history and literature classes. The Brotherhood is also about preserving the wrong things, like the Vaults (like the Enclave, really). They just came about through different method. The Enclave is capitalism and twisted greed in a world where money barely exists anymore. The Brotherhood is, well, fascism plain and simple.

Are these the only factions in the Fallout franchise? Hell no. But if you're mad about that -- that they're the main ones explored, apart from the NCR -- I think you're missing the point. These themes, these reminders, are highly relevant in the current climate. In fact, I almost think they always will be relevant unless we undergo drastic change. On the surface-level, Fallout seems like the American ideal complete with guns blazing that guys in their basements jerk off to. Under that surface, is a mind-fuck story about almost the entire opposite: it's a deconstruction of American ideals that are held so closely by some, and the way that key notion of freedom gets twisted, and you're shooting a guy in-game because it's more merciful than what the world had in store for him.

I mean, the ghoul's a fucking cowboy from the wild west character he used to play in Hollywood glam and his wife was one of the people who helped blow up America in the name of capitalism and "peace". There are so many layers of this to explore, I'd need several days to try and keep track and go through it all.

The Amazon Prime show is a testament to the Fallout franchise. The message, the themes? They were not messed up or muddled or anything of the sort, in my opinion.

As for Todd Howard, that Bethesda guy, I'm sure there's perfectly valid reasons to hate him. I mean, I've hated people for a lot less valid reasons, and that's valid. We all got our feelings. But the show is about more than just him. My advice is to keep that in mind when you're judging it.

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retrobutterflies · 2 years

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The Eddie Special | e.m.

Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: When the world suddenly feels like it's crushing you under its weight, one person always manages to make you feel whole again. And it's getting increasingly harder not to admit your true feelings for him.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Themes of sadness and anxiety, Major Fluff, Friends to Lovers

A/N: It's okay to feel sad or lonely or anxious for no reason. It's the silly price we pay for being humans. But you'll be okay.

It had been the most uneventful and mundane day, with little to note and even less to remember and yet for some reason as you pushed out of the swinging double doors of school, flat of your shoes scuffing down concrete steps, you felt like you could barely breathe. It was like you and Atlas had switched places and all of a sudden the weight of the word was on your shoulders and your shoulders alone. The waves of anxiety that had started shallow at the start of the day had swelled and were building like a tsunami of raw emotion, ready to swallow you whole if you gave in.

You weren't sure when you had bit your lip but you could taste the metallic iron on your tongue. And the chilled air nipped harshly at your cheeks and your heart was hammering in your chest and you could feel beyond the horizon of anxiety the blanket of sadness waiting to wrap around you until everything was dark and bleak and empty.

You stumbled over a stray rock and noticed one of your laces was undone but you didn't have the energy to bend down and tie it so you kept walking, tripping a few steps later and feeling the burning shame of embarrassment mix in with the dread and unease like oil and water sploshing around in your stomach.

You wanted nothing more than to go home, crawl into your bed, and fall asleep if only to escape the overwhelming emotions for a few hours. And maybe when you woke up they would be pulling back like it was low tide again and you'd be able to breathe. Because these emotions had no cause. Sometimes they just happened and they curled around your neck and layered over your eyes until you felt nothing other than hopelessness like a cruel and wicked game with you as the unwilling pawn.

You crossed into the parking lot with heavy eyes sweeping over car hoods and bobbing heads until they settled on a familiar untamed mane. Eddie Munson was leaning against the side of his truck staring down at Dustin Henderson whose mouth was forming words quicker than you could've attempted to decipher. And Eddie was rolling his eyes and saying something back, arms crossed and head quirked.

"You're missing the entire point! It's not the fact that they fought the Soul Reaper, it's the fact that they chose that specific route which would put them in his path which was foreshadowed in the first book–" Dustin's voice was adamant and they way he argued had you believing his point without even knowing the context for the conversation.

"Does luck not exist in your world, Henderson? Happenstance? Coincidence perhaps? Or the fact that it was the only route that didn't involve a known threat?" Eddie's voice was a mixture of annoyance and barely concealed amusement.

"It's never a coincidence in a fantasy trilogy where even the color of their cloaks has meaning, Eddie!"

Eddie was first to notice your presence, turning to face you with his eyes lighting up.

"Y/N agrees with me, don't you?" he said, shifting his body so his back was resting against the frigid surface of his van so he could face you. Dustin rolled his eyes and let out a scoff.

"She does not–" Dustin sounded frustrated, seemingly ignoring the muffled voice coming from what you presumed was his walkie-talkie buried somewhere in the depths of his bag.

"Yes she does. She always does," Eddie shot back, turning to cast him a look.

"She doesn't even know what we're talking about–"

"Yeah, well, she knows I'm right–"

"She doesn't–Oh my god," Dustin huffed, dropping his backpack to the ground, ripping open the zipper and viciously digging through it to find his walkie-talkie. The voice coming from it was louder and more clear as he plucked it from his bag and wrestled with the antenna.

"What, Mike?" he hissed into the receiver.

"I've been calling you for like the past ten minutes! Where are you Dustin–" Mike's heavily irritated voice crumbled through the static and Dustin squeezed his eyes shut in aggravation.

"I'm coming! Can you tell Steve to look up the definition of patience," Dustin struggled to zip his bag back up, tucking the walkie-talkie in between his neck and shoulder before swinging the bag over his back.

"Steve says to run or he's leaving you," Mike quipped back and faintly you could hear Steve's voice grumbling something about Henderson and idiot and manners.

"Sorry, I gotta go. I'll see you Monday," he said to Eddie, a rueful grimace on his face. He turned to you, face brightening into a smile, eyes squinted in childlike glee.

"Y/N, it's nice to see you. You look lovely," he said and you were barely able to give him a parting smile before he was darting across the parking lot in the direction of Steve's car, hissing something else into his walkie as he ran.

Eddie let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he watched the freshman nearly barrel into a disgruntled couple before turning his attention back to you.

"Hey, sunshine."

Two simple words and you felt like you were going to burst. His regular term of endearment for you felt distinctly out of place on a day where you felt like all the storm clouds in the world were nestling in your brain. You took a shaky breath, chanced a look up into his eyes and felt your throat tighten.

He slowly pushed himself off the van, arms falling to his sides as he took in your appearance. Shoulders slumped, hair messed up from fidgeting with it it one too many times, lower lip bitten raw and swollen. But your eyes clued him in to your inner turmoil. He felt his own mood plummeting as he studied you and your rounded doe eyes lacking their usual sparkle.

"What happened?" he asked, taking a step closer, feeling his hand flex as if he wanted to reach out and touch you. And a hot rush of anger splashed his cheeks directed at whoever or whatever was causing your chin to wobble and his heart to clench.

You shook your head, biting down on your sore lip as you fought back the embarrassing stinging of tears in your eyes because nothing had happened. There was nothing remotely different from yesterday where you were laughing so hard your stomach ached from one of Eddie's anecdotes to today where you felt like the winds had been viciously ripped from your sails.

"Nothing," you managed to squeeze out, feeling salty tears collect in your lashes, one or two spilling out, chasing each other down your cheeks, "Just, sad, I don't know, I feel–"

You couldn't finish, feeling your throat tighten more as the tsunami crept closer and closer. And the panic that had been lurking under your skin since the moment you had woken up started clawing its way up your neck until your breaths started coming out shaky and uneven.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, shame suddenly burning hot in your stomach as more tears fell and soon you were crying, the emotions you had been fighting all day winning the battle.

He stepped closer until his cologne was invading your senses and you could feel the heat emanating from his body. Hesitantly his hand reached out to your back, scratching lightly at your shoulder blade, ducking his head down to catch your eyes that were focused on the ground because looking at him made your embarrassment worse.

"Hey, woah," he said, his other hand reaching up to capture your chin to tilt it upwards so he could see your face, feeling his heart clench at the sight of your tears, "why are you apologizing?"

"Because nothing happened and I'm crying for no reason and I'm being stupid–" a few choppy breaths followed by a hiccup cut you off and Eddie was grimacing at you like you were causing him physical pain.

He knew you've had these moments before where the world felt suffocating with seemingly no explanation. He's had them too where he's locked himself in his room and buried himself in his comforter, no energy to even listen to music. But you weren't being stupid. The price of having good moments was that sometimes bad moments lurked between. And he'd be damned if he let you feel the gnawing sense of hopelessness that he knew well.

"Sunshine," he felt his own breath get stolen for a moment, both hands moving to rest on your cheeks, cradling your face as he angled it higher until you could do nothing but meet his eyes.

"You're not being stupid," he chided, stuck between poking fun at you to lighten your mood or soften his tone to quell your anxieties.

His eyes followed the glinting tears as they created rivers down your cheeks, soaking underneath his fingers that rested on the plush of your cheeks. He slowly swiped his thumbs under your eyes, collecting the moisture that made your eyes sparkle prettily up at him. And he swiped at the flecks of mascara that mimicked freckles, fingertips softly grazing so his callouses didn't hurt you.

"I'm crying," you sniffled, voice pinched and watery. He unconsciously mirrored your slight pout, brown eyes rounding as he felt his heart squeeze painfully.

"Yeah and I can't believe you still look cute while doing it," he replied, his thumbs pushing slightly into the fat of your cheeks as if he was goading a smile to your face.

And you managed a small one at his sweet words but a familiar pain stabbed into your chest. A pain that was long simmering and ever-present at the thought of his affection lacking the same weight as yours. His stemming from years of close-knit friendship and yours from your stupid unrequited feelings. And with the way he was cradling your face and looking at you like you were physically breaking his heart for just being sad, you weren't sure how much longer you could go without telling him you were disgustingly in love with him.

You squeezed your eyes shut, the image of him starting to become a dagger in your heart and he was wincing at you, feeling his own stomach coil in dread and anxiety at your anguish. He wanted to lean in, rest his forehead against yours and steal the war raging in your head so he could deal with it for you.

"Let me take you home, yeah?" his voice was quieter, a low rumble painting his words. You blinked your eyes open at him, tears obscuring your vision so you could only see a watercolor outline of his silhouette. But you were nodding and he was smoothing your hair back from your face, hands trailing down until they found your back and directing you to the passenger seat of his van.

The ride was quiet. Eddie had fumbled with the collection of cassettes stashed in the inner console, looking for one he knew was your favorite. And he had put it in, volume low but humming to help distract you from your thoughts as he drove. His eyes found yours at varying moments, brows tugging closer as he watched you gaze out of the window to the amalgamation of orange and red, eyes faraway, looking at something he couldn't see.

Nothing in his life caused him as much desperation as you did when you were upset. When it was something tangible like someone making a rude comment or a shitty grade on a test he could deal with it head on like threaten the kid who thought his snide remark was funny or scrounge up enough money to pay someone to give you a few tutoring sessions promising you that it was free. But when it was your own mind who was making you upset, he felt defenseless and he felt desperate.

When his van had rumbled to a stop in front of your house, driveway empty and lights off, he turned to see you frowning at it. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it a second after, fearing he had no words that would make you feel better.

"Eddie?" your quiet voice sounded over the soft music that he was already reaching to shut off. He turned to you and waited until you were ready to speak. You were worrying your bottom lip between your teeth again and he wanted to reach over and swipe it free and soothe the raw skin with his thumb.

"Can you come in?" He repressed the sudden urge to laugh. He wanted nothing more than to follow you inside. The thought of leaving you alone when your teary eyes made him feel sick to his stomach was incomprehensible. But he didn't laugh. Instead, he reached for your hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze and offered you a tender smile.

"Yeah," he breathed, shutting off the ignition before adding, "Of course."

The house was dark but warm as you stepped into the threshold, the heat settling into your bones and coaxing a soft sigh from your lips. Your bag fell from Eddie's shoulder followed by his own as he tucked them next to the litter of shoes. And you were still unmoving when he turned back to you, flicking a few light switches on illuminating your sunken features.

His hands moved before he could think and he was unzipping your jacket, softly peeling it from your body. You let him bend down and untie your one shoelace making it match it's already untied sibling before he was urging you to lean onto his shoulder for support as he tugged off your shoes. And then he was doing the same for himself, jacket draping over yours on the coat wrack and shoes finding a home clumsily next to yours.

"You hungry?" he asked. You shook your head on instinct but he was tutting at you. "C'mon, you should eat something."

So you acquiesced as his hand found yours and pulled you to the kitchen, flipping switches in his wake to brighten the house. He pulled out the chair to the kitchen table, guiding you to sit down before wandering over to rummage through your fridge.

"I'm gonna make you the Eddie special," he declared, squinting into your fridge and pushing things around as his hands searched for anything enticing.

There was no Eddie special but he liked the little laugh you let out at the declaration. He grabbed ingredients that he knew you liked, haphazardly pushing them onto the counter. He grabbed a half loaf of bread from the bread box and a plate from the cupboard. He nearly dropped a glass cup, juggling it in the air for a moment before securing it to his chest with a quick expletive.

You watched him flit around and felt your chest compressing in affection and longing. Eddie never failed to make you feel better, though today was tougher than most. He was the first person you called when you were worried about something, the first person you thought of when you wanted advice, and the first person you went to even when you knew you were going to ugly cry in front of him. And he never shied away. Instead he wiped away your tears and played your favorite music and made you an Eddie special, which you knew didn't exist but it still made your heart swell at the thought.

Those three words sat on the tip of your tongue, soaking sweetness into your taste buds. He glanced up at you, tongue peaking out of his lips in concentration, smile quirking to the side as his eyes squinted at you. And then he was walking towards you, placing the plate in front of you with a proud Voilà leaving his lips.

It was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a bundle of strawberries, and a glass of orange juice but the strawberries were laid out in what was meant to be a smiley face though the fruit had rolled around distorting the picture. He rubbed his palm to the side of his jean clad thigh, suddenly nervous at your prolonged stare at the plate.

"'S not much but–" he started, insecurity pooling in his stomach.

"I love it," you interjected. I love you, you thought.

He let out a small breath, the corners of his mouth tugging up as he took the seat beside you. You scooted your chair closer making the bottoms of it scrape loudly on the tile, pushing the plate to rest between you and you grabbed half of the sandwich and held it out to him so you could share.

He wondered if you could see the fondness rushing out of him as he took a bite of his half just as you took a bite of yours. He wondered if you could hear his heart hammering in his chest as you leaned in to take a strawberry from the plate. He wondered if you caught his eyes trailing to your lips as they circled around the red berry, a droplet of juice running down your chin.

He was swiping it away instantly, thumb brushing your chin before tasting it between his lips. You felt your heart flutter at the action, feeling nearly breathless at the casual way he licked the juice from his thumb.

You were blinking at him and you felt like your chest was concaving. Your heart was beating a mile a minute and he felt suddenly frozen at your stare. He opened his mouth to say something but his voice was stolen as your hand moved up to caress his cheek. You watched his Adam's apple bob as your fingers moved to weave through his hair. You brushed wiry strands back, tucking them behind his ear. Your thumb ghosted over his eyebrow, then brushed his temple, then followed the curve of his cheek from the bridge of his nose to the swell of his cheekbone.

"Eddie," you breathed, anxiety pinching at your throat and he hummed. His eyes now hooded and heavy trailed from your eyes to your lips, up the slope of your nose and back to your eyes that he swears could get him to commit murder.

"I love you." The admission had nausea flooding your stomach but you couldn't hold it back any longer. You knew things wouldn't be the same after this. You knew you could be shattering a delicate bond but the words were starting to grow sour in your mouth the longer you held back from saying them. And you needed him to know. He needed to know that the more he treated you this preciously the worse off you would be when you got your heart inevitably broken.

"Yeah," he was breathless as your fingers traced his face. His cheeks felt hot and goosebumps erupted on his arms at your touch. He wondered if his eyes were heart-shaped by now–

He felt like his brain had short circuited. You had said something. You had said–

"What?" His voice was a ghost of a whisper. His eyes met yours and saw the doubt and fear and anguish swimming in your irises. You opened your mouth but no words came out and he felt desperate for you to repeat yourself for fear that he had misheard you or had mistaken you for one of his fantasy versions of you where you wrapped him in your arms and professed your love for him between kisses.

"What did you say?" his voice was firmer now, sandwich long forgotten on the place as his hands flew to your cheeks. Your hand fell to grip his bicep, squeezing nervously. "Please," he breathed, desperation soaking his tone.

"I love you," you repeated. You weren't sure if it was healthy for your heart to be beating this fast. And you waited with trepidation for his rejection and for that dark shadow of hopelessness to consume you whole.

But suddenly his lips were on yours. Warm, velvety, soft lips molding into yours, air expelling from his nose to brush your face as he sighed into the kiss. His fingers were intertwining into your hair, tugging you impossibly closer and you were melting into him nearly falling out of your chair to get closer, hands grasping at the cotton of his shirt.

"Say it again," he mumbled against your lips, forehead burning against yours, eyes shut as he memorized the feeling of your lips against his.

So you whispered it again and a third time when hot desperate kisses followed. Soon you were pulled onto his lap, one arm encircling your waist to press you closer and other moving his hand to cup your cheek.

"I love you, too," he replied, voice breathless and low and rumbly.

Like a man starved, Eddie's kisses didn't wain. And he paid special care to your abused bottom lip, hoping his sweet kisses would ease any lingering pain. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling yourself closer as if having any part of you not touching him was painful.

His fantasies of you spanned nearly all facets of his life from the most mundane tasks to the softness of his sheets but never in his wildest dreams did he imagine kissing you would feel so wonderful. His mind had turned foggy and suddenly the only working braincells he had left were telling him to kiss you over and over and over again.

"Be my girl," he murmured, lips lifting from yours to let the words out before they were reconnecting again. And you hummed against him, brain registering his words on a five second delay and tingling at his overwhelming affection.

"Sunshine," he muttered, finally finding the will to pull back so he could open his eyes. Your lips were swollen and your eyes were warm and you chased his lips with furrowing brows at his halting affection. And he kissed you again and again before repeating the term of endearment finally getting your attention.

"I want you to be my girl," he said again, voice stronger, arms wrapping around your torso tighter, lips leaning in to kiss your jaw and then where your jaw met your neck and then over your throat making your breath hitch.

"I thought the answer was obvious," you breathed, tingles shooting up your spine as he nipped at your neck before kissing away the hinting sting.

"I wanna hear you say it," he said against your skin, kisses alternating with soft love bites.

"Yes," you replied, leaning in for another kiss before adding a soft, "dummy."

You squealed as his hands dug into your sides, retribution for your name calling. And he grinned up at you, hugging you closer and repeating his three favorite words again against the underside of your jaw. And you felt like you could finally breathe again, the looming shadow of anxiety and dread pulling back, sulking off to haunt you another day. But you were okay with it because when it came back you knew exactly who to go to. And he'd make you an Eddie special and kiss you until you forgot your own name and you would be okay.

Bonus:

"Do you have any consideration for other people's time, Henderson?" Steve's voice was sharp as Dustin swung open the back door of his car. Lucas and Max were squeezed next to each other leaving him a spot.

"I was running late from class. Sue me, Steve, really," Dustin grumbled, slamming the door shut behind him. Max scoffed at him.

"We could see you talking to Eddie," she quipped, arms crossed over her chest as she glowered at him. Lucas grimaced from beside her.

"Yeah you big fat liar," Steve mumbled before snipping at him to put his seatbelt on.

"Hey, no need for the name calling," Dustin said back and Steve shot him a look from the rearview mirror. Mike twisted around from the passenger seat and held up the walkie-talkie .

"Is this a toy to you? Do you carry it around like an accessory? Because, funny enough, the rest of us use it to communicate especially if were making everyone wait–"

"Okay, now you're being dramatic," Dustin rolled his eyes.

"Well, did you only answer me because Y/N got there? I think they'd have enough consideration not to make out in front of you," Mike added, annoyed that he had seen Dustin deliberately ignoring his repeated calls despite chucking in a code red just to see if he would finally answer.

"They don't make out. They're not even . . ." Steve trailed off, squinting into the distance at you and Eddie and how much closer you had gotten since his last glance.

"They sure look like they're making out," Max said, eyebrows raising as she shoved Dustin harshly into his seat so she could lean closer towards the window.

"Hey–Ow!" he whined.

"I wanna see!" Lucas piped up, leaning over Max's shoulder making her elbow dig harshly into Dustin's stomach.

"You're–Crushing–Me!"

Taglist: @eateraa

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Link to my masterlist :)

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things one shot #stranger things fanfic

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antxlss · 1 year

Note

just imagine 6 with rafe but ✨️angst✨️ thank you🥰😍

high infidelity

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

summary: you go to surprise you boyfriend and find something that you never imagined.

warnings: angst, cheating, arguing, mental health issues, guilt tripping, manipulation

words: 1k

a/n: idk how i feel about this one, and yes i named it after a t swift song! ;) as always, thank you for reading! if you have any requests, please do not hesitate to reach out! i love you, enjoy! <3

-—————————⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆—————————-

i’m currently on my way back home to the outer banks. i had been out of town for a month visiting my dad in tennessee. i had a lot of fun with my dad, but i missed my mom and the beach. but most of all, i missed my boyfriend.

rafe cameron and i have been dating for 10 months now. i love him. he’s so sweet, he has done nothing but shower me with love. he’s arguably the best boyfriend any one could ever dream of.

that’s why i’ve decided to surprise him. i’m coming home a day early and i’m going to go to his house as soon as i unpack. i’m so excited to see him again. as i thought about him my foot put a little more pressure on the pedal in hopes it would get me home, and in his arms sooner.

***

i pulled into my driveway to see my mom standing on our porch, anxiously waiting for me. i parked my car and before i could even put my first foot out of the door my mom had already engulfed me in a hug.

“i missed you so much honey, how was your trip?” she asked

“it was great, mom.” i smiled as i hugged her back.

“why are you home early?” she pulled away from the hug to look me in my eyes. “did your father say something to you?”

“no mom, i just came home early to surprise rafe.”

her face relaxed. “oh, well, that’s so sweet of you.”

mom made her way to the trunk and helped me carry my bags in. i went straight to my room ms began unpacking. i wanted to see rafe so bad, and i know he wanted to see me just as badly. we facetimed almost every night i was away.

once i had everything unpacked, i threw a load of my dirty clothes into the washer. i straightened up my appearance, they i went to the kitchen to let my mom know i was headed to the cameron’s house. i got in my car and eagerly made by way to tannyhill.

***

on my way, i stopped by a donut shop rafe and i loved and got him his favorite, a dozen donuts holes. i just pulled into the driveway and noticed a car that i wasn’t familiar with. it wasn’t ward or rose. i knew that they were out of town in business. wheezie and sarah were out for a girls day, so whose car is that?

rafe probably just has a friend over, i’m not going to worry myself. i pulled down my mirror and fixed my hair and reapplied my lipgloss. i wanted to look perfect. i close my mirror and get out of the car. i make my way to the door, opening my bag and digging around to find the key to the front door that rafe had gifted me earlier in the summer. i inserted the key and unlocked the handle. i knocked before opening the door, just wanting to be courteous, but to my surprise, when i opened the door, rafe wasn’t there. i’m sure he was in his room. so i headed up the stairs. by the time i made it to the third step, i tripped over something. as i regained my balance i looked down to see a hot, fiery, red pump. the second i saw those shoes, i knew they weren’t mine. i tried to be optimistic, coming up with any excuse for that heel being there other than what i was thinking. i continued up the stairs and down the hallway leading to rafe’s room. clothes were scattered everywhere. as i neared his room i was still in complete denial. i reached the door taking a deep breath, then slowly turned the knob, pushing the door open.

my mouth went dry, my eyes burnt, my chest ached. there was the man i love, lying, naked, in bed with i woman i’ve never even seen before. rafe quickly sat up, his mouth moved, but no sound came out. the girl quickly hopped out of the bed taking the sheets with her, covering herself up.

“babe, i can explain.” he breathlessly muttered.

the tears started gushing down. i turned around walking down the hall, unable to look at him. rafe ran after me, catching my forearm.

“don’t touch me.” i sneered as i jerked my arm away.

“look, i’m so sorry, you weren’t supposed to be home till tomorrow.” he tried to reason.

“i came home early to surprise you! okay! but you obviously don’t deserve this!” i threw the bag of donut holes i got him.

“but i love you.” he cried.

“no you don’t.” i laughed humorlessly. “i’m leaving.”

“please don’t leave. i don’t have anyone. please.” he yelled with a sudden outburst of rage.

“rafe you’re scaring me!” i cried.

he continued screaming and crying, trying ti guilt me into staying with him. tried to act like he was the victim. i couldn’t do it. i just broke down crying. i slid down the wall and sat in the ground. sobs racked my body as i struggled to breathe. i felt rafe sit down beside me. i didn’t even care at this point. until i felt him grab my face, and he forced pushed our lips together. i immediately pushed him off of me.

“you liked that, didn’t you?” he asked cockily.

“i did not.” i replied looking down at my feet, genuinely wondering if he needed some kind of mental help. his mood changed in an instant.

“hm, then why can’t you look me in the eyes?” he smirked.

“you need help.” i stood up off of the ground running to down the stairs.

“but i need you! you’re all i have!” he started crying again.

i stopped and turned around, looking him dead in the eyes. “you should’ve thought about that before you went and fucked another girl while i was out of town.”

i went out the door. i drove away. i did my best to forget about the boy who gave me the best days of my life. but obviously something else was going on. something i didn’t want or need to be apart of. not after he hurt me like that. now i’m just going to heal.

300 notes · View notes

edmundspevensea · 11 months

Text

𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐎 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐔𝐒?

in which two lovers grapple with memories of their relationship in two very different ways.

part two to can the killer in me tame the fire in you?

warnings; end of a relationship, sad luke

As Luke watched you slip through his grasp once again, he sadly turned back into his apartment and slammed the door angrily. He wasn’t angry at you. Instead, he was angry at the fact that he had some random girl in his bed as an attempt to get over you when he knew in his heart that he never was going to get over you.

Luke turned all the kitchen lights on to further illuminate his empty apartment. Ever since you guys had broken up, Luke hadn’t had the heart to redecorate, afraid of losing all the memories of you. He ran a hand through his messy curls as the girl, whose name he didn’t even remember, emerged from his bedroom with only a bedsheet wrapped around her body. It was an unfortunate reminder of the hookup that had happened only an hour beforehand, “Luke?” the girl asked, her hair tousled and her eyes confused, “What’s going on?”

Luke whipped his head towards her, and cringed at the sight of the girl. He looked down at his body and took in the sight of his wrinkled Devils shirt, gray boxers and uneven socks. His hazel eyes, which you always argued had more green than brown in them, narrowed, and he slowly walked towards her, “Get out.”

“What?” the girl asked in exasperation, eyeing the time and then looking back at Luke, “Luke, it’s 2:30 in the morning!”

Luke scoffed and fought the urge to raise his voice, pushing past the girl to enter his room. He collected the girl’s underwear, bra, jeans and top before exiting and shoving the belongings into her arms, “I don’t care. Get out.”

The random girl opened her mouth to argue, but stopped in her tracks when she realized that Luke had disappeared again, re-emerging seconds later with $20 to pay for a ride, “Go put your clothes on in the bathroom. The money will be waiting for you when you get out.” he spoke, watching as the girl shook her head in disbelief before disappearing into his bathroom. He went and sat down on his couch and grasped at his hair in desperation, attempting deep breaths in order to calm down. Luke heard the front door slam as the girl stormed out the door, but he didn’t move. Instead, he stayed right there on the couch, as if he was paralyzed, and just stared blankly at the wall. He didn’t know how he was going to do life without you.

Meanwhile, you had just arrived back to your apartment. It was now 3:00 in the morning and while you were extremely exhausted, you knew that you weren’t going to be able to get any sleep. Instead, you would stay awake, your mind wandering to Luke and what your guys’ relationship could’ve been. As you twisted your keys to unlock the front door, you took in the sight of your messy apartment.

It was just one big reminder of Luke.

Luke’s hoodies were scattered all over your couch and multiple chairs spread across your living room and kitchen area. Although it had been four months since you had broken up with him, you never had the heart to return his things to him. But as you look at everything now, you realized that if there was any chance that you were going to move on from the curly-headed boy you loved so much, then you would have to get rid of all his stuff. Out of sight, out of mind.

Without a second thought, you slowly closed the door behind you and walked slightly forward into the kitchen area, taking off your uncomfortable shoes and placing them off to the side. You sighed as you trudged into your bedroom, sliding off your jeans and swapping them out for a baggy pair of sweatpants. You did the same thing with your top, pulling the white tank top over the top of your head and switching it out for a plain gray and oversized hoodie that your best friend had gifted you for your birthday last year.

Speaking of your best friend, you were relieved that she wasn’t currently home. She had gone out bar hopping last night, and with her luck you knew that she was probably going to end up going home with a random guy she met at one of the bars. When you received a text from her earlier that morning, you knew that you were correct in your assumptions, which guaranteed you an empty apartment to yourself for at least the next five hours, maybe more. With this in mind, you grabbed a cardboard box from your closet and slowly made your way back out into your living area to grab Luke’s hoodies.

You ran a hand through your hair as you placed the box down on your coffee table, taking another look at the scattered hoodies. There were five in the living room total, but you had many more in your closet. Without another thought, you stepped forward to grab the first hoodie — a classic Devils hoodie with “Hughes — 21” on the back of it. Luke had given it to you after he had gotten drafted a couple years back, and it meant a lot to you. Secondly, a Toronto Maple Leafs hoodie gifted to him from William Nylander, which he had gifted to you when you guys first started dating. Third, a University of New Hampshire crewneck sweatshirt he had had since he was little. It had belonged to his mom, but Luke had told you that it was one of his security items growing up, and he wanted to pass that onto you. You teared up a little bit just thinking about how much Luke’s family meant to him, and how much you also once meant to him. Too bad those days were over now.

Managing to keep the tears at bay, you shakily sighed as you finished packing up Luke’s hoodies. Once you had finished with the ones in the living room, you moved onto packing the ones hidden at the back of your closet. After finishing with those, you hesitantly moved onto packing his bottle of cologne he had given you. You couldn’t lie — you had been spraying it on your wrists and clothes for the past couple of months in order to feel safe, in order to feel like you were in Luke’s strong and protective arms again. After about an hour more of stalling in order to avoid packing away the memories of your relationship with the boy you loved — love — forever, you had finally finished. And with that, you placed the overflowing box by your bedside and collapsed on your bed. It was already 5:00 AM, but if you could manage to get an hour of sleep before waking up to return Luke’s stuff to him again, then you’d be okay with that.

An hour and a half later, you woke up from what was arguably the worst sleep of your life. You groaned angrily as your alarm clock blared, and almost broke your hand with the amount of force you put into shutting it off. After fighting the strong urge to just lie in bed and go back to sleep, you slowly hopped out of your bed and stretched your arms over your head. Knowing that you were just going to go back to bed after arriving home, you threw your hair into a messy bun and only brushed your teeth because you didn’t want to overwhelm your Uber driver with your bad breath. You didn’t even bother eating breakfast. You simply grabbed the extremely heavy box of your ex-boyfriend’s things and made your way outside of your apartment building to meet your Uber driver.

The friendly older woman greeted you as you stepped into the car and put the box down next to you. Her hair had almost turned fully gray, but a few streaks of dark brown were still alive, holding on for dear life as if an ocean of age would wash them away any minute. Her eyes were kind and wrinkles of wisdom were present across her freckled face, a face of motherly comfort. You smiled at her as a faint “hello” came out of your mouth. You gave her the address of Luke’s apartment building and soon the car began moving. Some Lumineers’ song was playing faintly through the car radio, and the sweet woman eyed you through the mirror, “I can turn the radio off if you’d prefer, sweetheart. I don’t mind.” she smiled, and you shook your head.

“That’s very generous of you ma’am, thank you. But I don’t mind,” you replied softly, and she smiled as a way to let you know that she heard you. As the Lumineers’ song ended and the next one began, you wished you had told her differently. The color drained from your face as Hozier’s “Like Real People Do” began echoing throughout the car.

You and Luke. This was your guys’ song.

Your lip trembled as the song played, and the memories came rushing back. Slow dancing to this song in his kitchen throughout high school, on Umich’s campus out in the snow at 2:00 AM (Luke had pulled you close and whispered the entire song into your ear), and the first night you had spent in your own apartment in Newark. All the two of you had at that time was some paper plates, plastic silverware, napkins, a carry out pizza and an air mattress, but it was the first time you two were officially on your own together. It was a special moment as Luke held you against his own body and the two of you gave each other sweet kisses as the song played through his phone.

The rolling of the car to a stop pulled you out of your thoughts, and you quickly thanked her before handing her some money and exiting the vehicle. She pulled away and as you stood in front of Luke’s apartment complex, you realized that you couldn’t face him again today. So instead of knocking on his door and handing him the box of his stuff, you took the elevator up to his floor and left the cardboard box outside of his front door. As you left the building, you shot him a text to let him know that his stuff was there before ordering another Uber in order to get back home.

When you arrived home, your roommate was awake on the couch, clearly hungover. You gave her as much of a smile as you could muster and the only response you received was a groan and a, “Could you get me some Advil?”

You nodded, knowing that you had an unopened bottle of it somewhere in your room. When you entered your room, you began to search through the drawers on your nightstand, but you had no luck. After searching your bottom drawer without any luck of finding the Advil, you were about to move on to the drawers in your dresser when a picture frame caught your eye. You pulled the picture frame out of the drawer and brushed it off with your hands, only to see the picture of you and Luke that Ellen had taken on your two year anniversary. You and Luke looked like two lovesick fools, huge grins on both your faces as you looked at each other lovingly. The two of you were both unaware that the photo was being taken until Ellen had sent her son the picture. You noticed it was his lock screen the next day and asked him to send it to you, to which he did. For your three year anniversary, you had gifted Luke a framed copy of that photo, and kept one for yourself as well.

You smiled sadly at the photo as you walked over to sit down on your bed, tears welling in your eye at the sight of how happy the two of you once were together. As you thought back to earlier in the morning however, the misery and yearning you were feeling for your ex-boyfriend came flooding back to you in a harsh wave of anger, “God fucking dammit, Luke!” you screamed, throwing the picture frame onto the ground. Glass shattered around you as the frame hit the floor, and all you could manage to do was watch emotionless as Luke’s love-stricken face stared up at you through the broken glass on top of it.

Little did you know, Luke still kept that same framed photo of you guys on his bedroom dresser. As he stared down at the overflowing box of his stuff that was now in his apartment, he thought back to that photo. He quickly made his way into his bedroom to grab it and just as quickly took the same place on his couch as he did hours earlier when he had kicked the random girl out of his apartment, this time with a box of returned items and a picture of him and his ex-girlfriend in his hand.

Luke simply stared at the smile on your face. Oh, how he missed your beautiful smile. He rubbed his thumb over the picture of your face, almost as if he was hoping he could feel the softness of your skin through the glass. Without a second thought, almost as if he was on autopilot, Luke began humming the tune of “Like Real People Do” under his breath as he gripped the framed picture to his chest and wrapped his arms around it, wondering if there was anything left to do for him and you.

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gsstories · 5 months

Text

When Autumn Starts

A nearby forest has been mysteriously burnt down two weeks ago. It had happened the day of an eclipse and it just happened randomly! People are worried and keep talking about what could have happened. They had no clue the reason was a small, fiery fairy who held a grudge against humanity…

Right now, he was wandering around the place, seeing how things have changed while he was imprisoned. He was astonished by the cars, the cellphones, everything! He had to see more!

The fairy flew near the window of an apartment at the top of a bakery and looked inside. It was a room that was a pastel yellow color with a nice bed, a study desk with some books, sewing materials, a sewing machine, next to the desk a mannequin an unfinished red suit, and there being a separate desk with three computer monitors, a microphone and a HUMAN was sitting on the chair, wearing cat eared headphones and wearing a hoodie that said ‘I cast gun, prepare to meet god’ and was playing a fighting game on his setup.

The guy couldn’t have been older than 15, had dark skin, long, brown hair, golden eyes, slightly big lips, his hair in a low ponytail and some bangs of hair covering his right eye.

“Uhh, guys? I died again.” The guy said.

From Eclipse’s perspective, he was rather confused. The human died? But he was still moving no? What did he mean by again? Can humans just died and keep moving nowadays? That didn’t make sense…

Now, from the human teen’s perspective, whose name is Daniel, it was like this…

“Are you serious?? We just started this round!” Another male sounding voice yelled, his name being ‘Ax’.

“Are you really that surprised? It’s Aspen we’re talking about.” Another male voice said, named ‘Brutus’.

“You need help next round Aspen?” A third voice with a slight Russian accent asked Daniel, or ‘Aspen’ on stream, this guy named ‘KoKo’.

“I would say no but that’s a big fat lie.” Aspen mumbled.

“Where’d CJ go?” A fourth voice with an even stronger Russian accent asked, the guy named ‘Apollo’.

“Knowing him, massacred a bunch of people already.” Brutus said as they heard evil giggling.

“That’s exactly right!” A fifth voice, one a tad bit higher than the other boys’ said, giggling mischievously, this one called CJ.

“LeLe must love you right now.” Aspen chuckled at this.

“She loves CJ no matter what he does.” KoKo responded. “Fucking simp.”

A comment rolled in the chat of the stream. It read:

LeLeNotPons: ‘Says the one who keeps calling his ‘best friend’ his wife when on stream.’

“Hey, I am not the one who rambles about the merman every chance I get, so shut it.” KoKo argued with the comment.

“Hey Aspen, how do you feel about your husband and sister-in-law fighting?” Brutus questioned the eladrin VTuber.

“Kinda hot on KoKo’s part.” Aspen answered, making Ax start chuckling and soon enough the whole group started laughing. “Am I wrong?!”

Daniel then started smelling something. Something was… burning? But he didn’t have anything cooking and his parents were down in his bakery. Couldn’t be his lil brother, he cannot reach a stove and his sister was with Helena (aka LeLe, KoKo’s sister). The young man turned around in his chair only to find the sight of a kind of tall yet still smaller than him, like barely reaching his leg I think, of a humanoid creature with its head having what looked like red flower petals but still not? The creature’s face and body was half really dark brown, and orange, its cheeks seemingly having what would be considered blush that could only be found on dolls, sharp teeth, mismatched eyes with the irises being orange while the right sclera was a yellow color, almost white while the left one was pitch black. It wore a ragged and torn cloak over its shoulders and dusty red and orange striped pants with no shoes.

Besides the creature, a paper was burning on Daniel’s desk. Daniel and the creature stared at each other for a while the paper just burned.

“Hey guys, I gotta mute myself for a moment, something caught on fire.” Aspen said.

“Only you bud.” Apollo said as the others laugh.

Daniel muted himself, walked out of his room, brought a fire extinguisher and put the fire out before it could spread. He kinda covered the creature with the foam though.

“Alright, now that that’s been dealt with…what the absolute FUCK are you?!” Daniel exclaimed, now freaking out.

“What is this? It’s foamy.” Eclipse wondered, completely ignoring Daniel’s question as he tasted the foam. “Tastes weird.”

“You’re tiny! And cute! But also kind of like you would commit arson! Did you make the paper burn?” Daniel asked as he looked at Eclipse’s form.

“Yes, that was me.” Eclipse said as he grinned.

“Arsonist then, called it.” Daniel mumbled as he held onto his ponytail. “Just- What ARE you??”

“I am a fairy. I thought you humans would be able to recognize us better. Bummer you don’t.” Eclipse said.

“Fairies are fucking real?” Daniel mumbled.

Now Eclipse was looking at Daniel who was having an existential crisis over what is real and what is not. It was rather amusing for Eclipse to see a human in distress like this.

“Okay, uhhh, who are you?” Daniel asked.

“Why should I tell you my name?” Eclipse asked the human, tilting his head a bit.

“Because if I don’t have a name, Imma just call you Mosquito because you came in, decided to freak me out on stream, and the pointy nose also reminds me of a mosquito.” Daniel said.

“Do NOT call me mosquito!” Eclipse growled at the human boy.

“Then give me a name to call you! It’s not that hard!” Daniel said. “It’s either that, Mosquito or Mosco cause you are rather big for a mosquito.”

Eclipse was getting rather annoyed at this human. He’s in the presence of a fairy, a real life fairy, and he dares insult him like this? Humans haven’t changed, he guessed.

“Fine. It’s Eclipse.” Eclipse huffed.

“Thank you for giving me a name. I’m Daniel, nice to meet ya. Why are you in my house?” Daniel asked.

“I’ve been… wandering around the place recently. Just trying to see how things have changed in the human world is all. I haven’t been here in quite a while.” Eclipse said as he took out his wings and flew around the room, staring at everything.

“Oh! Okay, I see. So, you were somewhere else then?” Daniel asked.

“Something like that, yeah.” Eclipse said as he looked at a bundle of plushies of some characters before flying over to the unfinished suit.

A bit ominous to Daniel’s liking but it was fine.

“What’s this?” Eclipse asked as he stared at the suit.

“Oh, that’s a suit someone commissioned me to make for them. It’s still a work in progress.” Daniel said.

Eclipse decides to be a lil evil shit and summons a flame in his hand. However, he was drenched in the foam from before, causing his fire to die.

“Hey!!” Eclipse yelled in annoyance.

“Do NOT try and ruin it, I spent WEEKS working on that!” Daniel said as he glared at the fairy.

“Oh please, like it’ll matter in the end.” Eclipse hissed at the human.

“It still matters to me. Just because you are a magical creature does not mean you are entitled to destroy the hard work of others. Calm your damn shit or I will make you!” Daniel said.

“Oh yeah? And how will you do that?” Eclipse asked with a challenging grin.

“You may not be a mosquito or a fly but I can take you out like such still. I am NOT afraid to swat you!” Daniel said as he crossed his arms.

Both human and fairy stared each other down for a long while, just glaring at each other. Eventually, Eclipse huffed and looked away.

“Whatever.” Eclipse mumbled.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a stream to get back to.” Daniel said as he walked over to his computer.

“What’s a stream?” Eclipse asked as he flew behind Daniel.

“It’s a way for me and my friends to make content for our channel, interacting with our viewers, all that.” Daniel said as he put his headphones on and unmuted himself. “Sorry guys, there was a big ass mosquito I had to deal with after the fire.”

Eclipse scrunched up his face at that but didn’t say anything as he sat on the desk. Daniel glanced at him but didn’t say anything. May as well let the fairy watch.

•

About two hours had passed and the stream was finally over. Daniel said bye to his friends and took off his headphones. Eclipse was still on the desk, looking curious at what he watched for the last 2 hours.

“What was all that?” Eclipse asked.

“What was what?” Daniel asked.

“All of that! The images were moving… and you controlled it with that… what’s that??” Eclipse asked as he pointed at the keyboard.

“My keyboard? Well, I sometimes use it to play games on my computer but other times I use a controller.” Daniel said.

“Controller?” Eclipse repeated.

“I’m gonna have to teach you everything don’t I?” Daniel mumbled. “Listen, I don’t mind helping you out with all this stuff, it’s very new to you, that is clear. But please don’t burn anything, I don’t want anything important to get damaged.”

“No promises~” Eclipse grinned, making Daniel sigh.

“Okay, whatever.” Daniel mumbled. “By the way, what’s up with your clothes?”

“My clothes?” Eclipse asked as he looked down at himself. “What’s wrong with them?”

“They look rather damaged. Plus you aren’t wearing any shoes.” Daniel said.

“I have not been able to get new clothes in a long time.” Eclipse mumbled.

“I see… Well, your clothes gotta be changed.” Daniel said.

“I am fine like this.” Eclipse said as he crossed his arms.

“Doubt it. I think I have some clothes your size, I do make mini clothes for dolls.” Daniel mumbled as he searched through some drawers.

“I am telling you, I am perfectly fine with what I am wearing.” Eclipse said, blowing smoke from his nostrils.

“Could have fooled me.” Daniel muttered as he found some small clothes. “There we go! Found em!”

“I am not wearing your human made drags!” Eclipse said with a glare.

“Come on, it’ll be fine!” Daniel said.

“No way!” Eclipse exclaimed before taking out his wings and flying out of Daniel’s room.

“Hey hey, don’t fly away like that! My parents could be in the apartment!” Daniel yelled as he ran after Eclipse.

Daniel and Eclipse went through a cat and mouse chase for a while, Daniel occasionally having to save some stuff that was knocked off by Eclipse flying around. Luckily, Daniel’s parents were still busy with the bakery so they didn’t see the scene that was happening at the moment. After a while, Daniel was able to catch and swaddle Eclipse in a fluffy towel, one of those small ones used to dry your hands. Eclipse was a huffy and struggling mess until he eventually gave up. He could have burned the towel easily but it actually felt kinda nice, not like he would admit it.

“Listen, I won’t force you to wear the clothes. At least TRY them and if you don’t like them, ya can keep wearing your old clothes.” Daniel said as he brought back a swaddled Eclipse to his room.

“Ugh, fine. Whatever.” Eclipse huffed as Daniel unwrapped him from the towel. “You really made these yourself?”

“Mmhmm! I have wanted to be a fashion designer one day so I have been practicing ever since I was a kid. I think I became quite decent at it.” Daniel said rather proudly.

“Right.” Eclipse said as he took the clothes and looked them over.

“BRB, I gotta check on the bakery.” Daniel said as he walked out of the room, closing the door.

Eclipse watched as Daniel left. How odd, he could easily destroy everything that Daniel loved right at that moment when he was gone but he still trusted him? A naive kid. A nice one but still naive.

Eclipse looked back at the clothes.

Maybe he could wait for a few days before causing much damage… The clothes don’t seem that bad anyway.

(This was so fun to write! Fairy Eclipse belongs to @ayyy-imma-ninja, hope I did the boy Justice lol! Daniel/Aspen is my Oc, I love him! Hope you enjoyed this!)

((Bonus: Daniel’s avatar, Aspen, in Autumn form!))

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girlystories · 6 months

Text

L'appel du vide (The call of the void)

— pairings: Henry Bowers + Patrick Hockstetter x female/daughter of a cop/new student reader

Summary: after your parents divorce (because your mom is kinda crazy) you move to your dads hometown, back to Derry, and your cousin richie. Additional warnings: swearing, depictions of child abuse. Words: 3.5k

previous part here

Chapter 3: Everywhere

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑'𝐒 front windows were rolled down, filling it once again with a satisfying breeze. The tired girl resisted the urge to lay her legs on the dashboard, knowing her dad wouldn't let that slide. He had just finished his pack, holding his last cigarette while driving.

[Name]'s bored eyes stared at the road. "Whose idea was it to have a barbecue at fall?"

Her dad shook his head. "Come on. Why do you have to be so down in the dumps all the time?"

"What does that even mean?"

"Just try and act happy when we arrive. It's the least you can do."

She scratched above her eye, in an effort to calm herself. It was like he viewed her as a nuisance. "Why did you want me to come with you in the first place? Don't you want to catch up with your old friend alone?", she took off her shoes and wrapped her arms around her knees, before adding, "since I bother you so much."

He sighed irritably at the comment, glancing at her. "Now why do you have to do that? You know that's not what I meant."

She stayed silent for a moment, still looking out the window. "So who is this friend?"

He didn't answer at first, wanting to resolve the small argument that began since this morning but also not wanting to bother at the moment as well. "He's a colleague of mine and an old classmate."

She leaned forward and turned the music up from the radio but her dad turned it off right after.

"[Name]," he said sternly. "Please."

She forced herself to look at him, groaning under her breath.

"I don't want to argue with you. I just want to adjust here after what happened...", he sighed. "I know you need it too."

[Name]'s eyes softened when she noticed his expression. She didn't know exactly why she woke up on the wrong side of the bed that day. Maybe it was because of the new environment or maybe the sudden lack of direction.

"Yeah, I guess so..."

They didn't say much on the rest of the ride, only asking why Richie and her uncles didn't come with them, which was answered by a rather half-assed excuse from Richie that he'd hang out with his friends.

She noticed that whoever's house they were going to was just out of Derry, being more noticeable by the sudden switch to a dirt road. She looked confused behind her, seeing the town fade a little in the distance. Trees passed them as they drove towards a rather large house. What was more noticeable was the farm house and the variety of animals roaming around. She didn't question it however, and got out the car just as they came to a stop.

She held a plastic container with some homade brownies for a simple yet enjoyable gift. They couldn't go there empty handed, so last night instead of doing nothing she thought it'd be a great idea to make a good first impression.

She took her time looking around the place, seeing the chickens and cows eating the grass. As she looked over at the house she felt an unnerving aura from it, and she hoped she was just being stupidly paranoid. It wasn't at all inviting in a way she couldn't describe. She ran after her dad when she noticed she was left behind.

She hid slightly behind him as he knocked the door. It was opened after a few moments by a middle-aged man.

"[Father name]," he said enthusiastically, greeting the both inside as he moved to the side. "Come on in."

The house was rather... glum and dark, looking completely different from the white appearance it had from outside, but it still had that stange vibe. The wall's cracks somehow revealed a hidden story behind it, as well at the holes that weren't as apparent behind the ripped wallpaper. She didn't want to judge in any way, but by the looks of the way someone "tidied" the place made it seem that no woman lived there, or set foot in that building to be exact.

"Sir, we've bring you some brownies. I hope you like them," [Name] said.

It was as if he hadn't noticed her at first by the surprised look on his face. "That's kind of you. You must be [Name], right?"

She nodded. "That's me."

"This is my daughter I told you about," her dad said proudly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "[Name], this is Butch. We were inseparable during our school years."

Butch laughed. "I have to tell you stories during that time. That reminds me, I think I remember you," he told her.

"You do?"

"Yeah, when you were about this tall," he said laughing, depicting a much shorter [Name] with his palm. "I can't believe you've grown so much. You're like a flower that has just bloomed. So beautifully too."

The smile he had when he said that ran a chill down her spine and she chuckled nervously. "Thank you."

His smile faded suddenly. "[Father name]. The thing is that I don't believe today is a good day for barbecue."

The said man rose a brow. "Oh? Why's that?"

He groaned in annoyance as he recalled something. "My stupid son forgot we have guests today and didn't prepare the meat. I should've known. He never does anything right."

"It's alright, I don't mind. We could just go out and eat somewhere in town. I'm sure your son must have been busy."

"Thanks for being understanding," he turned his attention back at [Name]. "Could you go call my son from upstairs? I don't know what's taking him so damn long."

"Sure. Um, where do I put this?", she asked and motioned at the brownies still in her hands.

"I'll take that," he did just as he said, "now go and tell him if he doesn't get down right now I'll have to drag him myself."

She didn't question it and made her way to the second floor. She felt kind of bad for the guy, but she didn't want to jump into any conclusions. As she passed the living room – which was full of empty beer bottles that weren't hidden well – she held back the need to gag at the terrible smell of nicotine.

Upstairs, she passed the bathroom and stopped at what she assumed was the guy's bedroom. She knocked the door, "hey, your dad said to come downstairs."

No answer. A few seconds passed and she knocked again.

"We're going out to eat. I don't know where but I hope somewhere good," she added jokingly. Still no answer. She hesitantly turned the handle, opening it and stepping inside. "Are you sleeping or something?"

It didn't take her long to realize the room was empty. Well, except the countless thrown clothes on the floor. The bed was unmade, but no one was laying on it. She rubbed the back of her head, confused.

She peeked her head out the door and yelled out: "He's not here!"

"What? Where the hell is that–", Butch's yell came from downstairs, continuing with a murmur while [Name] took a look around.

She approached the room, which had posters of Metallica, Megadeath and other metal bands she didn't know of, and some of women wearing inappropriate clothes in various poses, making anyone question the limit of the flexibility of the common person. There were some pictures on the selves, and upon inspection, as she grabbed one, was a group of young boys – four to be exact, having toothy grins on their faces. All except one, who instead showed the smallest smile, but not in a shy way as one might believe. She was about to look at another picture but another sound make her stop.

A loud snarky voice came from downstairs after the snap of someone shoving the door open, though not a yell but still loud. Quickly and loudly the person walked upstairs, which made [Name] almost jump by the speed when he barreled towards the room, only stopping when she was seen standing in the center. They were clearly hot happy with their visitors.

The boy's surprised expression lasted for a split second when his brows furrowed deeply, and he grabbed the picture frame from her.

"What the hell are you doing here?", he snapped.

Her legs froze on the wooden floor. She knew all well those blue eyes and stupid ashy hair. That goddamn ugly mullet.

It was Henry.

Henry-motherfucking-Bowers.

He was covered in sweat and a brown gooey substance that she hoped in God was only mud. He wore overalls this time that were tucked inside his muddy boots. Underneath he wore a tight black shirt. His sleeves were tucked above his elbows once again, but something told [Name] that this time it wasn't because of his usual fashion choice.

She crossed her arms, in a way not to show her also shocked reaction on how things turned up, "turns out my dad knows yours."

"Great, fucking great," his nostrils flared. "Another new piece of shit in this town."

She scoffed. That was uncalled for. "Oh, poor you. Like I wanted this. I would prefer to stay home rather than spend the day with you."

His anger increased, but instead he held a snakry grin. "Oh? So you already know of me?"

"Word travels fast it seems, Bowers."

She couldn't lie that she didn't keep asking her cousin and Jamie and Evelyn – and slightly Aiden, but he didn't reveal much – about him and the rest of the gang. She found out pretty quick about their acts around town and that her bleach blonde classmate wasn't how he seemed when they first met. During school he didn't dare get in trouble, but later in the afternoon he was a completely different person. The larger guy from the rest was considered the most chill of the group, despite the incident that happened the day before in the cafeteria. She was told that the other two were the most feared, Bowers and Hockstetter, even though she didn't know much about the dark heared member.

Henry's grin widened at the use of his name. He was about to say something when another shout came from downstairs.

"Don't take your sweet fucking time, Henry! We have to go!"

He flinched just meekly that it would take someone to pay close attention to notice it. He grabbed her wrist and forcefully shoved her out of his room, obviously not too happy with her in his property.

"Ow! Hey!", she yelled.

He didn't care about her almost tripping and slammed the door at her face.

In the end it was agreed they'd drive in one car instead of two, which happened to be the one [Name]'s dad was driving, resulting in a rather awkward ride between the duo of teens in the back seat. The fathers didn't seem to notice the hostility around them, chatting and laughing loudly.

She couldn't help but glance at the angsty blonde on her right every now and then, who was glued to the door, looking out the window with crossed arms. He had changed into a pair of jeans and he wore the same denim jacket. He still had that angry look on his face, as if it was set on default while his mullet was way messier than yesterday.

She was humming alongside the lyrics of Fleetwood Mac from the radio when she heard someone call her name.

"Don't be rude. Butch is talking to you," her dad said.

"Oh, sorry... Could you repeat that?", she swore she caught a glimpse of Henry rolling his eyes.

"I was just telling you about the day I met this piece of treasure here," he let out a laugh and patted her dad on the shoulder, who also laughed in response. "One time I was driving home, you know on the dirt road after Witcham Street. Yeah well, I was driving home – I was about twenty-four or five at that time – and I saw a fallen motorcycle – it was a BSA Gold Star I think. Shame, it was a beauty! Well anyway, there was a unconscious man laying next to in, and, of course, I had to check on 'im. How do you know! – it was none other than [Father name] over here!"

The girl's eyes widened, "What?!"

He laughed, smacking his knee, "I will never forget that day. This peace of shit almost gave me a heart attack,"

the other man cleared his throat, interrupting him.

"Sorry, sorry... so anyway, I rushed to the nearest hospital – and as you know we didn't have a hospital back then in Derry, so I had to drive for twenty minutes. In the end he survived with only a broken leg and he was out after five days. Your father here is made out of steel!"

She leaned from her seat, grabbing both front seats to get a closer look at her dad. "Dad, is that true?"

"Yeah, well...", he chuckled awkwardly, rubbing his nose with his thumb. "That's why you're never getting a motorcycle."

She pouted her cheeks. "Why? That's not fair."

He laughed again, this time in a teasing way. "We'll see. That all depends on your grades, missy."

"You wan' a bike? Not really ladylike," Butch informed. As if reminded of his existence [Name] sat back in her seat, her knee accidentally brushing the guy's next to her.

"I'm sure she would be fine, Butch."

The man shrugged, forgetting the subject. "Anyway, good times, good times... Nothing can rewind time unfortunately," he sighed loudly. "Enough about that, I'm sure you remember living in Derry, right? This town is anything but unmemorable."

"Uhm, hmm," she placed her forefinger on her bottom lip. "I guess a little. Maybe middle school... and me playing in the backyard..." A core memory suddenly popped into her mind. Of her mom. But she didn't want to think about her at the moment. "I also remember riding my bike, that was fun."

"That's it? I swear you used to hang with Henry over here," he revealed, looking at his son with a neutral look she couldn't describe. "Don't you remember, son?"

There was a pause of silence that lasted longer than expected. Too long, that she couldn't make out what he was thinking. Now that she thought about it more, she recalled vague memories playing in a large yard. No... it was a farm. She also remembered the animals. She chased after them too. The thing she didn't remember, though, was playing with Henry. She would surely remember a cruel bratty little devil bothering or bullying her. The other thing she remembered was a woman living there with her child that had long blonde hair and a big toothy smile, while the dad was usually absent.

"No," he finally answered, bringing her out of her thoughts.

"Huh," Butch turned his head back forward, "Maybe it was another girl."

The diner was pretty small, but also chill and welcome, not at all fancy. Perfect for hangout between dads, but not so suited for two kids that didn't get on a good start. It wasn't because of the way he bumped onto [Name], but because of what she heard. She wasn't the type of person to believe in rumors, but there must have been a reason everyone fucking hated their guts. They even bullied her cousin. That's a good and reasonable reason. Also his attitude was really getting on her nerves. He could at least act nice, especially in front of his dad.

He was behaving like a bratty kid, seating in the same way he sat in the car: crossed arms and leaned back, manspreading. He was opposite from them and next to his dad.

[Name] leaned her head on her palm, playing with her food, or in better words, her leftover crumbles. The two fathers kept talking and talking, making her zone out on most of it. They kept saying old stories and whatever new stuff happened in Derry.

She glanced over at Henry, who didn't touch his fries one bit. He was glaring at her, which she couldn't take seriously and found honestly pretty funny. She rose a brow, in a way asking him, *what are you looking at?*

This made his breathing quickler, as if trying to calm himself down. Before she did anything to make him any more mad, his dad spoke.

"Eat your food. I didn't pay this for nothing," he said, his tone completely shifted from the one previously.

Henry froze again, not daring to look at him. Instead looking down. After what felt like hours, he said, "I'm going out."

He got up and left quickly, while also not making any eyecontact with anyone. Butch's head followed after him, until he had completely gone out of the diner. The sound of the bell above, then the shut of the door followed. Butch's eyes made chills run down [Name]'s spine.

Butch parted his lips in order to grumble another snarky remark, but [Name] got up suddenly.

"Uh, I, um, gotta go out too," she stumpered out before thinking. "Gotta hang out with some friends from school."

"You made friends already? Who?", her dad asked.

"Uh, Aiden." She said, whoever came to her mind at the moment. "Yeah, sorry. I totally forgot about that."

He sighed, "Okay, fine. You can go."

"Okay, talk to you later," she said and was about to leave, before turning back around. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Butch."

Just as she departed the diner her dad thought out loud, "wait, I thought I told you to cancel any- Ah, what the heck."

She didn't realize it before but it was literally freezing outside. October came like bitch. It was obvious it'd snow any minute now.

She immediately looked around, looking for Henry, which she did, since he kicked a dumpster over, sending all the trash flying. That made her regret her decision instantly.

She stayed outside of the diner, hugging herself and shivering, staring at his back, not knowing what to do.

Then he started leaving.

Fuck.

She quickly followed after, her fast but short legs trying to catch up after him.

What the hell was she doing?

Whatever she thought before clearly didn't really matter to her anymore, but she had to find somewhere warm to go. It'd be super embarrassing to go back at the diner. The two men would probably think she was a loser and got stood up or something.

But what was happening right now would probably also be considered embarrassing, if not more.

Maybe she should just follow him secretly and learn more about his secret wicked ways? Find some sort of secret to blackmail him into not bullying Richie anymore.

Or just go home. Which was kinda far, so she'd probably freeze until then.

Her breathing became heavier from both the cold and her lazy body suddenly having to walk so quickly. Just then Henry stopped. She also stopped. She quickly realized he was at a bus stop and he took out a cigarette, lightning it up and inhaling it. He shifted on one leg and placed a hand inside his denim jacket, shivering ever so lightly. He wasn't dressed properly for the weather, yet he refused to feel any cold. He looked to the right as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

It took her a minute to realize he had noticed her.

Shit.

"The fuck you lookin' at?"

She didn't know what else to do but to walk up to him, awkwardly sitting down at the wooden seat.

"Oh, hi," she tried to act casual, but obviously failing. "Cold weather we're having, huh."

"Are you fucked, Trashmouth no. 2?"

"Jeez, why are you always so fucking angry?"

"None of your fucking business, Missy," he snapped, using the nickname her father gave her, but sounding it way differently. "Why the hell did you follow me, you weirdo. Are you that pathetic you follow random people around just so they would talk to you?"

"No... I was just bored," she shrugged, her leg bouncing nervously. "Are you that egotistical, Bowers?"

And she used his name again.

If it were another day he'd definitely mess with her in a more fucked up way, she wouldn't dare approach him ever again, but now he wasn't really feeling it.

"Then why not just ask your old man to give you a ride home? Would make this shit all easier for me"

"Huh? Why?"

He threw his cigarette at the concrete, stepping on it with his heel.

"'Cuz I'm bored out my fuckin' mind, that's why. I wanna go back at the farm."

"Why not ask your dad for a ride then?", she placed her hands inside her pockets as a wind went past them.

He shot her a glare, yet said nothing. After a few minutes she thought to say something. Unfortunately, whatever she chose upon was too late as a bus had stopped.

Henry got on in without saying a word. Moments later she sat the alone, shivering, confused and with regret. She shouldn't have left the stupid diner.

She walked back home. Fortunately, she had brought her keys with her.

#:ssnowville #:snowville #[🌸]#it fanfiction #it x reader #bowers gang #bowers gang x reader #henry bowers x reader #patrick hocksetter x reader #henry bowers #patrick hockstetter #Spotify

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cartoonartistpng · 1 year

Text

Sonic AU Idea

Y’all remember the Metal Virus in IDW? Of course you do what am I talking about

Well lots of people were all “oh imagine the angst if sonic got fully corrupted!”

Has anyone considered the idea of a Zombot Sonic… not attacking innocents? And I don’t mean in the “oh but there’s still good in him 🥺” way. He’ll still attack anyone in his way, but imagine that unlike other Zombots, Sonic isn’t aiming for infection of just anyone.

No, imagine a Zombot Sonic whose biggest target is Dr. Eggman himself.

Let’s say this happens during Sunset City’s invasion. Sonic becomes completely corrupted much to his friends’ horror and yet- instead of attacking the survivors, he runs off. (Unlike Shadow, Sonic’s speed isn’t enabled by his shoes. His speed is a physical aspect, and it’s established than any physics capabilities of victims are carried over to Zombot form.)

I like to imagine this takes place when Shadow arrives. The change here is that Sonic picks up that Shadow isn’t taking his warnings seriously and—instead of running like intended—spins around to try and impress upon him the severity. Sonic argues, exhaustion and frustration clouding his mind. But Shadow still won’t listen.

Shadow turned back to the imminent threat, ignoring the garbled frustrations of his rival.

He heard Sonic growl, his voice talking on an electric warble. “Why won’t you just listen to m-“

Silence. Then, a gasp and screams from the survivors. Shadow glanced over his shoulder… and his eyes widened in surprise.

“He’s one of them!”

“He failed! Sonic’s failed!”

“I-If Sonic couldn’t fight ‘em, what hope do we have?”

“Who’s gonna save us!”

“We’re all gonna die!”

“Everyone! Please calm down and get inside the truck!” Rouge yelled from somewhere within.

But Shadow could only stare. Sonic had become a Zombot and gazed at the other hedgehog with a coldness he’d never seen grace the hero’s face.

The situation just got much, much worse.

Shadow readied his battle stance.

Yet- Yet Sonic didn’t move. Not at first. He snarled but, instead of leaping at Shadow, he turned his head toward the west… and took off.

Shadow continues fighting, this time being far more cautious, and helps the transport truck escape. Shadow is then the one tasked with stopping Sonic, as the only one who can match his speed. (Since Sonic is high level threat, it’s doesn’t take much to convince). Using Sonic’s communicator, they’re able to track his coordinates, but there’s no rhyme or reason to his path… at first.

“Its almost like he’s… searching for something.” Tails pondered.

Shadow gets there and Eggman tries placing the agent between himself and Sonic. Sonic charges at Shadow… but then completely runs around him and at the doctor. Shadow tried fighting, but quickly realizes that Sonic’s ignoring him in favor of trying to infect Eggman.

See, Sonic has been fighting Eggman practically his whole life—it’s second nature at this point—and, let’s be honest, Sonic was wracking up quite the anger directed at the doctor. Because this is fanfiction, let’s say that this instinct somewhat influences Zombot Sonic.

Zombot Sonic is the biggest threat at this point. Not just because of his physical prowess, but also because his version of the virus is so mutated, it infects at a higher rate than its sister-mutation. The one solace that Sonic’s friends have?

That Zombot Sonic’s sole target is Eggman.

On one hand, no one would feel any pity for Eggman to fall at the hands of his own virus. On the other hand… If Eggman’s infected, who would Zombot Sonic target next?

So it kinda becomes into this weird thing of both keeping Eggman uninfected while also using him as bait.

I think the idea of Zombot Sonic being able to track down Eggman could be potentially terrifying. Constantly on the move. Nothing stopping him. No matter where Eggman runs, no matter where Eggman hides; Zombot Sonic can and will find him.

Zombie Terminator Sonic.

#idw sonic #sonic idw #Metal virus #sonic metal virus #zombot #zombot sonic #idw shadow #sonic idw au #sonic au #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sth #sth au #sth idea #baguette thoughts

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katsukikitten · 9 months

Text

The day rushes by in a flash. The train ride to Denki's is quiet, him pressing into you on the busy train that jostled the two of you about. You hated the part of the city he lived in for this reason. It was busy, transport always jammed pack and filled with too many fucking scents. A snarl of your lip keeps someone from staring at you too long before you yank Denki off at his stop.

Thankfully no one is home when you open the door to the dark apartment, only having ever dropped him off and never inside. You flick on the lights and a chill runs through your spine from how nasty their scents meld together. Raging summer storm and delicate rose bushes that suffer from root rot.

"Where's all your shit?." You look around, eyes taking in the mostly bare walls with photos of Camie and her friends.

Not a single one had the couple in it, hell not even Denki by himself.

Kaminari swallows thickly, it hurts standing in the doorway, him wondering if they've fucked here in the living room, on the counter, in their bed. He reaches out and grabs your shirt, keeping you rooted to your spot. You made him feel comfortable, safe, calm and he placed his forehead on the crown of yours.

"I don't have a lot of stuff…" You scoff at his statement and gently knock his head from yours.

"Reckon that makes it easier." Resolve settles in your bones as you make mental note to lurk on his isnta and your own camera roll to find special moments for when he found his new place.

It doesn't take long for the two of you to pack, Denki's items are easy for you to identify. You've only known the man for years, that and Camie's items are different…sterile. Like they were only meant to be looked at and never used while Denki's items were well loved. A chip in his favorite mug, cracked spines and dog ears in his books, and the fabric of his clothes well worn but never threadbare.

After barking at him for the better part of the hour the two of you stand in the sunken foyer. Denki with his oversized and overstuffed duffle and book bag, a giant tub of his anime figures, manga, and anime DVDs, with one pillow on top. Meanwhile you held two small boxes filled with his few dishes and video games that the two of you argued over if you could carry it or not.

"We've got everything?" You ask for the hundredth time and he nods softly, slipping on his shoes as he keeps an eye on you.

Just as you're about to leave, a large man opens the door to the apartment.

An Alpha, one you couldn't smell thanks to the government mandated scent blockers on every door in any building after 1999. And Denki's swanky ass apartment in the priciest part of town was sure to have double protection.

He reeked but then again every Alpha did, least to you, smelling like cool air and the tops of trees whose leaves change with the seasons. As his black eyes lock with golden ones his scent sours. Like a thick smog hanging low in the sky instantly making you bare your teeth.

The thunderstorm rain scent clouds the air shortly before you're yanked backwards by your shirt and placed a step beside Kaminari.

"You've got some fucking nerve." Denki's eyes glow both from instinct and the threat of his quirk. No longer was he the sad love sick puppy that got kicked, now he was the dog chained up all his life.

Beaten and starved.

Maybe he felt that way in love.

#garbage posting hours 🖤🐈‍⬛ 🗑️

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thefanficmonster · 1 year

Note

Request: carmen crushing on reader who is mikey’s close friend/maybe girlfriend

Oooh the angst is sizzling! Hope you enjoy 💕

Just How Fast Life Changes

Pairing: Michael "Mikey" Berzatto x Reader (Female), Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto & Reader (or x Reader, but it's one-sided)

Warnings: Jealousy, Heartbreak

Genre: Angst, Romance, Unrequited Love, No happy ending

Summary: see request above

The train ride home was a brutal twenty hours long. But he didn't care, he needed the time home for the holidays. Couldn't wait to see his brother and sister and even his brother's annoying best friend again after so long.

But, above all yet still pressed deep down, was the need and excitement of the though of seeing Y/N.

It's been two years since graduation, and Carmen's running low on money. Otherwise he would've definitely preferred the much quicker plane ride. He feels like a dog trotting back home, disappointed to the core with its tail between its legs.

New York has certainly knocked him down more than several pegs. He's been made to feel worthless time and time again. It's been two years - intercut with phone calls here and there - since he's felt loved.

Since he's felt love for a fellow person.

His hometown has no shortage of people he adores and loves. Everyone and everything he has is there. Waiting for him to come back whenever he feels like it.

***

"You're such a dork! Let me get it done! You go watch the game." A female voice rises to a higher pitch above the sizzling of oil in the pan on the stove.

The person who said voice is telling off grunts, "You can't do that! I'm not a kid you can send to his room!"

"Quit acting like a child and I might keep you around." The girl teases back, giggling when her boyfriend runs his fingers over her sides, tickling her.

Another scoff is heard among the noises coming from the kitchen, "You guys are disgusting."

"Let them be, Sugar. They'll be arguing like a cat and a dog soon enough. You'll miss this harmony." Another voice joins the mix, bringing a smile of recognition on Carmy's face as he discards his shoes by the front door, dropping his duffle bag.

The four people currently forming too big of a crowd in the kitchen fail to notice the figure in the doorway until his knuckle collides with the doorframe a couple of times, the sound prominent, "Got room for one more in there?"

Four pairs of eyes simultaneously sparkle in his direction and Carmy is all of a sudden reminded what it feels like to be loved and cared for.

The first person to collide into his embrace is his sister, whose arms wrap around him with a surprising strength that seems to squeeze out all the bad New York’s filled him with.

“I take it you missed me, huh?“ He manages to say between caved-in ribs and lungs.

Sugar laughs, back-handing his shoulder as she pulls away, “No, not at all.”

“I didn’t either.“ An even stronger pair of arms wraps around him next. If he hadn’t bulked up these past couple of months Mikey would’ve picked him up off the ground like back when they were kids.

“Dork...“ The blond murmurs, hand coming up to mess up his brother’s hair.

Just like that, many memories start flooding in. It reminds him of just how much he’s missed his home. His siblings, their banter, the sounds and smells of the house, the laughter and undying chatter that resides inside it.

And the family friends that come with it who might as well be family at this point.

Richie is the first of them, coming up to give him a much less sentimental but meaningful nonetheless hug, “Missed ya, cuz.”

“I missed you too, Richie.“ That’s a sentence he could’ve never imagined he’d say when he was a kid. Back then he was the butt of many of Richie’s jokes, making him have rather sour feelings towards him. But it’s safe to say that couldn’t be farther from the truth now.

You know what hasn’t changed even after so much time? The way adrenaline hits him and his heart rate quickens when his eyes meet hers.

She’s the last to come up and welcome him, her hug incapsulating him in the bubble her perfume has created around them. It’s a scent he knows all too well. A scent that’s lingers in his mind and stains many memories he’ll never be able to get rid of.

Rightfully so, it belongs to a very special person in his life. His life-long best friend, the only bright spot in his high school days, his biggest support and inspiration. The girl he could see himself marrying in a decade or two.

The girl that whispers “I missed you” right before she pulls away from him, just to have Mikey’s arm wrapped around her shoulders.

It’s a weird sight for Carmy. He doesn’t remember the two ever being so close before. Michael always seemed to regard Y/N as nothing more than his brother’s best friend. Hell, he can even remember the many times he pestered him for being his girlfriend.

Little did Carmen know how the tables would be flipped on him.

He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the night was testing him with each passed minute. Whether it be the slight touches here and there the both of them seemed very accustomed to, or the little ‘babe’s or ‘hun’s they’d drop when talking to one another, it was all getting to him....personally.

Knowing he’d get an earful from Sugar if he allowed her to see him smoking, he purposefully waited for her to busy herself with something before quietly ducking out the door to the garage. He creaks a window open before lighting a cigarette, the puff he inhales doing little to settle his nerves.

“If anyone asks, you didn’t pick this habit up from me...“ The gruff voice that disrupts his peace and quiet damn near makes him drop his cigarette.

Turning around, he finds that it’s Richie, indulging in his own bad habit.

Finding he’s in a safe zone, he Carmy sighs, “Nah, I’ll say I picked it up from Mikey.“

Richie scoffs humorously, coming up to stand opposite him, blowing smoke out the window, “Why don’t you pick up his womanizing charm instead? I’m sure you’d do well with someone by your side. You know, someone to keep you looking forward to something.“

A pair of sky blue eyes roll in annoyance, “Who are you - Sugar? I’m just fine on my own. Probably would be a dead end anyways.” It hurts to admit that out loud, but it’s the truth. Nothing and no one’s ever made him feel like she has. “And if charm was Michael’s strong suit, he’d have a girlfriend by now.”

Richie nearly chokes on a puff of smoke as he barrels into laughter, provoked by Carmy’s statement, “Ah, cuz, you ain’t blind, are you? Deaf? No?” He only stops his semi-berating to cackle some more, “Mikey is in there with his girlfriend. She sat at the same table as us. She’s sat at the same table as us for almost two decades, Carm.”

It’s Carmen’s turn to choke. On the smoke, cold air, his words or shard of his broken heart doesn’t matter. The coughing fit he falls into saves him from having to say anything.

What could he possibly say? How could he possibly recover from that? How could he pretend that the shards of his hard are stabbing him all over - making it hard to speak, to breathe, to feel.

How can he stand on two solid feet after an earthquake like this one. Something that threw his world off its axis. And not something that was a sudden blow. It was a sharp pain between his ribs since he saw his brother drape his arm around Y/N. Richie’s words were just the confirmation, as if he gave permission to the pain to hurt him even more.

It nauseates him, just how fast his life changed.

“Good for them. They’re perfect for each other.“

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