#Maybe after I get back into the swing of things again I'll draw her in some actual period garments
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I’ve been slowly getting back into drawing after months of not doing that and there was no prettier character to dust off those cobwebs with than @crystallizedtwilight ‘s OC Crystal. I’ve been wanting to doodle her for so long, hopefully I did her justice.
#bowery beauties#bowery beauty crystal#my art#Maybe after I get back into the swing of things again I'll draw her in some actual period garments#and not just some pretty dress I thought up on the fly
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The Farmer's Daughter 9
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Characters: Walter Marshall
Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)
Part of the Backwoods AU
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
After the tense morning, you don't speak to Walter again that day. Or the next. When he arrives, he stays outside with his thermos of coffee and waits for Timothy. At the end of the day, he gives your brother an excuse about chores at home. Maybe not an excuse. He has been spending a lot of time around here.
Nearly a week after it happened, after everything changed, your mother appears in the kitchen with a crease in her forehead. You offer her a cup off coffee as she rubs her eyes. She yawns and and shakes her head.
“We'll grab a cup at the hospital,” she says, “you're father has a check-up. Timmy's taking us.”
“Oh?” You pour yourself a mug and lean on the counter, “I forgot.”
“Lots going on,” she sighs, “can't blame you for being distracted.”
“Uh, yeah, I guess,” you shrug.
“I called Walter, left a message,” she checks the clock hung above the door, “wouldn't be too bad if he did swing by, huh?”
“Hopefully he doesn't waste the time,” you grumble.
“Honey,” she chides playfully, “you know, I think your dad would approve… if he could. He always liked Walter.”
“Mom,” you frown, “please, I have enough to worry about.”
“Oh, I'm sorry,” she whines, “I'm just… looking for a little sunshine through the clouds.”
You wince, a pang of guilt between your ribs, “I'm sorry, mom, I just… Walter's nice. He helps so much and I think… I think maybe it's too much.”
“Don't I know it. He is so generous. I gave him some money and I found the envelope in my purse,” she tuts, “you could do much worse. He… he could take care of you.”
You exhale, “mom.”
“Just listen,” her tone turns dire and her eyes gleam, “your pa can't. He's not gonna be able to ever again. I already know what the doc's gonna day and you shouldn't fool yourself. Walter won't help forever, not for no good reason. And next year, your pa won't be back on his tractor…” she sniffles and dabs her nose, “those days are behind us.”
“Ma, you don't know–”
“I do,” she utters solemnly, “I see the man I married but he's hollow. He's… a shell, honey. He's there but he's not really.”
“Oh, ma–”
“I'm just saying… we need to weigh our options. I'll look into selling if we gotta and Timmy, maybe he can go work with Walt–”
“Aren't you getting ahead of yourself?” You cross an arm around your middle.
“We shoulda been talking about this a week ago,” she shakes her head.
“Well, I can apply at the grocer or–”
“You do that,” she says, “but you think real hard. You got options,” she steps closer and cups your cheeks, “you're a pretty young thing. That doesn't last forever.”
You don't say a word as her greyness seeps into you. She draws away and you bow your head. You wait for her to go as you stare into the black depths of the coffee. You take a sip to try to chase away the ice in your veins but it only sends a shiver through you.
🌾
Your parents go off with Timmy in the truck. You set to sweeping the porch to keep yourself busy. Your mother's words ring in your ears. She can't be serious, there's more out there than the farm. Pa always said as much and you don't think he meant Walter.
As you get to the steps, the distant rumble of an engine rolls over the ground. You turn as gravel grits under treads and Walter's large truck lazily rocks along the bumpy road. You still the straw broom and grip the handle as he pulls up. Did he not get your mother's message?
He lingers in the truck as you squint against the sunlight. His door pops open and he jumps down, sending up a cloud of dust. He goes around the bed of the truck and opens the back.
He slides out a sheet of wood and drags it towards you. You watch in confusion as he stops and leans it against the side of the porch. His eyes meet yours and his brows furrow.
“Morning,” he checks his watch, “barely.”
“Morning, Mr. Marshall,” you eke out.”
His eyes flash and he nods. He turns and marches back to the truck, pulling out several planks before carrying them over. You watch him as you lean on the broom.
“What are you doing?” You ask.
He stops and looks up at you. He points to your feet and flicks his finger up, “building a ramp. For your dad.”
You look down at your slips flecked in dirt and stray strands of straw, “oh? Didn't ma call–”
“She didn't ask,” he says bluntly.
Your lips slant and you tilt your head, “that's real nice.”
“Yeah well, I'm a nice guy,” he huffs and spins on the heel of his boots, stomping away once more.
He goes back to the truck and retrieves his toolbox. His agitation roils off his tense shoulders and the stone set in his jaw. You're too afraid to ask but you do need to. He has been avoiding you.
“Well, I'll stay out of your way,” you lift the broom and back up the stairs. “If you need anything–”
“Not in the way,” he says curtly as he takes out a measuring tape.
“Oh, I know but I wouldn't wanna bother–”
“I don't mind,” he shrugs as he steps onto the stairs and measures the angle over them.
“Right, of course, do you need anything? A glass of water or–”
“Seems like I'm the one bothering,” he stands and lets the tape retract harshly.
“No?” You bat your lashes at him, “I didn't say that, Mr.--”
“Walt,” he growls, “you know what I like best in a woman. Honesty. So why don't you be honest and tell me what you really feel?”
“I…” you gulp, “Walter, er, Walt, I… I'm just… confused.”
“Don't act like a child. We both know you're not,” he crosses his arms over his broad chest. You've seen him angry before but it's never been aimed at you.
“I… I don't know what to say. I'm sorry.”
“Sorry. Okay,” he shakes his head and unfolds his arms, going back to measuring, “I'm open to talking when you wanna be an adult.”
You flinch as you watch him. He grits his teeth, ignoring your presence as he focuses on his work. You turn, hiding the hurt deep in your chest. You never meant to hurt him but you really don't know. As much as you try to wade through your feelings, you only feel as if you're drowning in them.
#walter marshall#dark walter marshall#dark!walter marshall#walter marshall x reader#drabble#night hunter#the farmer's daughter#series#au#backwoods au
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Treatment
Jeong Jinsol/Jinsoul x M!reader
Tags: light edging, sorta JOI?, facial
WC: 1.3k
A/N: this photoset legitimately made me feel things so allow me to take you on that same journey. enjoy the different structure of this work.
—————
After a tiring day of work — presentations, meetings, the usual — you plop yourself on the bed, with barely enough energy to take your clothes off. You're staring at the ceiling for maybe two, three minutes before you hear the front door beep open and the unmistakable clacking of heels on tile rings around the dead silent studio.
"Hey baby," Jinsol said softly. "Busy day?"
You grunt in acknowledgement. Jinsol may have looked stunning today, as she always did, but you were way too spent to show it more meaningfully. She'd understand.
"Are you feeling alright? You look sick," she said, worry in her voice.
"I'm fine, babe. You should rest too. I'll make space on the bed for–"
"Hmm, this won't do. I've seen this before. You seem to have a buildup of sorts," she cut you off.
"What are you talking about, Jinsol?"
The whole while you've been staring up at the ceiling, you fail to notice Jinsol kneeling in front of your legs dangling by the edge of the bed. The only way you noticed was because of the confusion from her last statement.
"See? So much negative energy stuck in your head, you can't even see or hear properly. Luckily," she says as she starts unbuckling your belt, "I think I know just the solution."
You don't exactly have an explanation for it, but the more and more Jinsol undid your pants, you could feel yourself getting hard already. A quick draw of your boxers revealed your member, sprung up and hard.
"Ah, just as I thought. It's all stuck in here," she said, with a light tap to your shaft.
"Aigo, Jinsol, I said I'm too tired for this...," you say, trying to hide your shame of getting aroused so quickly.
Jinsol raises an eyebrow at you, then shrugs. "Okay. If you say so." She gets up and starts walking away from the bed, except you notice the way she's walking: an extra swing of her wide hips, slow enough to make you do nothing but stare, still fully erect.
She turns back, looking at you with a tempting gaze.
"You sure you're so tired? Doesn't seem like it to me," she teased
"Okay, fine, Jinsol. I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm so–"
"No, it's okay. I understand," she replied, a tinge of singsong-y taunting audible in her tone. "You're not asking for it, so perhaps I'll leave you to it."
Again, unprompted, the taunting made you twitch in arousal.
Your vision tunnels, honing in on Jinsol's face: her porcelain skin, the shape of her eyes, her luscious lips — all the perfect seductive mix. You're pretty sure you've been staring at her way too long to be subtle, because Jinsol doubles down on her charade, tilting more of her shoulder away from you, hiding her body's curves around her tight dress, yet also showing the almost bare skin on her back.
"You sure you don't want this?," she teased, no subtlety on her end either.
That was enough to set you off. With a newfound energy, you jump off the bed, walking briskly to her, your surprisingly still hard dick swinging around — at this point, you didn't care. You just wanted Jinsol, and to humor her so-called treatment for your situation.
"You're such a goddamn tease, Jinsol," you growl under your breath as you wrap your arms around her waist. You pelt her neck and shoulders with deep, sensual kisses, made much easier with how little cloth obstructs your mouth. She lets out a soft hum as you continue, and as both your hands stray to her core and her chest respectively, you can feel — or rather, don't feel — any undergarments under her dress, evidenced by the tiny bumps forming on her chest and the warmth between her legs.
"Are you sure it's me who needs this treatment?," you taunt.
"Oh, yes, it's all for you, baby," she growls. "This is part of it."
She turns around and kneels once again before you, her face right in front of your dick, her breath close enough to send shivers down your spine.
"How are you so good at–"
"Tsk, just shut up and let me work," she barked. "You talk too much. All the cum built up in here," she continued, grabbing your balls, "is making you a lot dumber than usual."
You're ready to open your mouth in protest, but you stop yourself. She's right — the last time you actually had time to fuck your girlfriend was probably a month ago, on your monthsary. She definitely had a point, because she probably wanted this just as much as you needed it. Besides, how could you say anything when Jinsol's sucking was enough to make you speechless?
She knew exactly how to work you: she would take in all of your head, then midway to your girth, then all the way to the base, several times until your moans of ecstasy got loud enough. Then she'd take you out of her mouth and keep you aroused, kissing your length and licking your slit. Her hands weren't idle either: they moved between massaging your balls and stroking just the base of your cock. And in just a few minutes, you could feel the cum build up at your base.
"Fuck, Jinsol, you're gonna make me–"
She leaves you hanging completely, causing a sharp pain as you feel your orgasm denied.
"Sorry baby, for this to work, you gotta do it yourself," she pouted. "So will you do it for me? Please, baby?," she added, with a little whine in her voice. Fuck, she's irresistible.
You start to stroke yourself, and you see Jinsol adjust herself to rub her clit and squeeze her tits. "Yes baby," she moaned, "I love watching you stroke your cock for me. I love seeing it twitch and squirm for me. Is it all mine, baby?"
"Fuck... yes it is Jinsol... Tell me how much you want it," you beg, yearning to get off from her sensual squeals.
"I want it inside me baby... I want you to ram it inside me, all the way in. And I want your cum, all over my face," she begs. She tilts her head up, to show all of her face before your eyes.
Jinsol stared at you with hungry eyes, screaming for your release just as much as her own. Her mouth was slightly agape, ready to open it wide for your seed. And just the way she presented herself to you — should you miss her mouth, you'd still paint her face, and she'd enjoy it all the same.
"I want your cum, baby. I want it all over me. Please give it to me," she begged on.
You felt the cum welling inside your shaft start to rush forward; you were ready for release.
"I'm gonna cum, Jinsol!"
She opened her mouth wide and stuck out her tongue; just the view of her being in full display, ready for you, was enough to send you over. You spurt all over her face, a lot more than you anticipated, and aimed the last few strings directly onto her tongue. She closed her mouth and gave a deep gulp; as she did, she closed her eyes, satisfied and satiated. Whatever strings she could scoop up with her fingers, she did and licked it all up.
"Told you you had a backup," she said, still licking clean the tips of her fingers.
Honestly, you thought you'd be tired by then. But watching the hottest woman alive love the taste of you was a turn-on even you couldn't switch off.
"Oh, you're still hard?," she cooed. "Guess there's still a lot more in there."
"Ready for round two?"
—————
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Cat Got Your Tongue?
Okay, I know what I SAID what kind of writing I would be posting but this idea popped into my head the other night and I couldn't stop thinking about it. Also if someone would teach me about to make my posts all fancy, I would appreciate it!
~
AU | catburglar!reader | fem!reader | slight Aventurine x Reader (all flirting) | mention of stealing, theft | If I left anything out, I apologize
~
Cat Got Your Tongue?
"Yes..." A satisfied smile crossed her face as the lock to the safe clicked open. Slowly, she let the door swing itself open, hoping the noise wouldn't draw too much attention. Her hand was just reaching into the safe and pulling a bag out, when a low cough made her turn her head.
"And what do we have here?"
She slowly stood up and turned, her eyes falling on the man across the room. The IPC member whose home this was, the one she specifically targeted because of his rumoured wealth. Well not really a rumour.
A smile slid onto her face as she observed the blonde man with the interesting eyes. "You must be Aventurine. Don't mind me, I'm just grabbing a couple things and going." She kept her voice breathy as she usually did when she was in this persona of hers, the one that broke into houses and took what she wanted.
She expected him to get angry. Maybe try to stop her. Instead he slowly approached her with a smile on his face. "How about I save you some trouble. I know what you're after. Do you really think I would keep the real thing in there? Give me more credit then that." His eyes seemed to light up at her confused expression and he took the opportunity to nod at the bag in her hands. "Everything in there is worthless."
She shook her head. "You're bluffing."
Aventurine shook his head as he stared at her through his glasses. "You don't have to believe me. I'm willing to bet you don't. Why a not make a game out of it?"
She tilted her head curiously. "What kind of game?"
He grinned at her as he approached her. "Take that bag, see if I'm telling the truth. Once I'm proven correct, return to me. I might want a favour from you."
She walked over to him, stopping less than a foot away from him. "And if you're lying?"
Aventurine shrugged. "Then you've earned yourself bag full of valuables. Although I can assure you that I'll be seeing you again very soon if you do."
She smiled and took another step toward him. "As tempting as that offer is..." She reached forward and ran a gloved finger down his chest. "I'm not in the habit of being in a position where I owe anyone anything." She flashed him a sly smile before turning.
"Leaving so soon? It's not like a thief to leave empty handed."
"Who says I'm empty handed?" She turned back around swinging something around her finger. Aventurine's eyes narrowed on it and his eyes widened. His head snapped down to his wrist to see that his watch was gone.
"I'll see you around Mr. Aventurine." She turned and hopped out of his window before he could do anything other than watch her disappear into the cool night.
~~
<3
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Evil chuckles *rubs palms together*
Sorry I can't help it!
Imagine his coworker, Bailiff Bucket Barnes, notices that Steve seems to (unintentionally) put a little more detail into his courtroom sketches when reader is in them.
Ohhhhh let the teasing commence 😏
- 👜
court sketch artist!Steve Rogers x lawyer!reader drabble
[super short, just trying to get back into the swing of things. No warnings.]
Steve uses his middle finger to smudge the line of your leg just as the judge adjourns the court for jury deliberations.
It's not quite perfect, so he focuses on fixing the exact angle of your bare calf in those delicate heels.
"Punk," his friend rumbles from the doorway, securing the emptied room, "kinda missed your cue to leave..."
Whoops. Steve hadn't even sketched the judge behind the bench yet.
"Right. Sorry, Buck. I'll get out of your hair."
"Don't bother," Bucky says, stopping Steve's hand as it rushes to replace the charcoal in its tin. "Not expected to take long for a verdict."
The bailiff adjusts his uniform tie and takes a seat next to Steve.
"Ohhh," he coos with a craned neck, "I see why you lingered. 'Bout time you asked her out, ya think? You've been pining over her for six months."
"Have not, jerk," Steve practically squeaks.
Bucky puts up his hands in defeat. "You're right. You're right. It was this time last year that she started with the DA's office."
"I'm not...pining," Steve muses, running a nail through some black buildup on his thumb. "She's just photogenic."
"Then take a picture. With your phone. And then put us out of our misery and use that phone to get her number."
"Us?"
"The poor stenographer lost her bet in the fall. She was so sure you'd make a move after the Kinsey case."
Steve shrugs shyly. "Nah, that was such a big win for her. I bet the office took her out right after--had a party maybe."
"So? There are seven nights a week, big guy. Court is closed two of those days, too."
"Buck, I'm not gonna--"
"Bud, I'm gonna die of old age waiting for you to get your ass off this pew. Shit, my hair will be down to here--" Bucky gestures to below his shoulders "--by the time you--"
"Language," Steve warns.
Bucky relents and settles on a judging look.
After a long pause, he shrugs.
"Fine. Maybe I'll ask her out. She's got great legs."
Steve's head whips up so fast that his blond hair falls across wide eyes. "You wouldn't dare," he bites back.
Another shrug is his only answer.
A door at the back of the court creaks open.
"Barnes, call them back in."
"Damn," Bucky cards his fingers through his dark locks and whistles, "my girl's fast."
Heat flares across Steve's disbelieving frown.
Bailiff Barnes stands up with a chuckle.
"See, when you recreate that look at home, the color you're gonna wanna pick is Fuschia."
No sooner has Bucky opened the double doors than you flit past him and down the aisle.
"Barnes," you nod politely before your eyes meet Steve's.
Your head cocks to the side in surprise. "Mister Rogers."
It's a split-second in time, but Steve loses all ability to form words. He had no idea you knew his name. The smile you flash over your shoulder after setting your briefcase down, too, isn't just a polite smile or a confident 'I've won this case' smile. No. That smile is just for him.
Steve gulps, letting that gleaming gesture sear into his brain so he can sketch it later.
He plucks out his charcoal again.
At least he has this chance to draw the judge behind the bench...and put all the others he forgot on the page, too.
[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]
Oh boy. Yet another mini-series taking up real estate in my mind... Hopefully, none of you guys are taking bets about how long all these things are taking me!! Luckily, this one is pretty straight-forward fluff--which is, of course, how Threadbare started and that ended up ::checks notes:: at 20,000 words... Whoops, indeed...
@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp
#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers fic#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers x you#law and rogers#steve rogers drabble#steve rogers and bucky barnes#ro answers#👜 anon
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AN: Just and ideia that it's living in my head. Maybe I'll keep writing, maybe not. Just let me know.
Warnings: none, well, maybe Jos being Jos. Also this is childhood sweethearts to forbidden love to enemies to lovers kinda of thing. And also there's no title yet, give me some ideias. English it's not my first language.
1. Age twelve
After the incident between Max and Josh, the karts are realigned for a new start. Mom looked on apprehensively, while Dad assured Josh that he was fine and had no damage to the car, allowing him to start again. Unlike Max, who, for having caused the incident, was disqualified from that stage, it wasn't long before he appeared, huffing and stomping as he walked towards us in the stands. My mother holds her arms out to him in a hug, and he reluctantly returns it. I see my dad coming over too and patting Max on the shoulder.
"It wasn't fair, Uncle Clark. It wasn't fair at all," he says, angry.
"You guys did exactly the same thing, Max. It was obvious that one of the two was going to get hurt." Max huffs and sits down next to me, swinging his leg constantly.
"That's it; you boys are going all out and taking this too serious," my mother says, holding the youngest's head and leaving a kiss there. I roll my eyes. Max was extremely adored by my parents. Josh used to joke that he was "the favorite son," and they, with their good old-fashioned sense of parenting humor, replied that they loved all their kids the same.
The two turn their attention back to the race, and I to my drawings. I watch Max full of anxiety; he hates being in the stands when he could have been running. He runs his hands over his face, mumbles something I don't understand, and finally seems to realize I'm there.
"Jesus, Olivia. You've come to the race; it's almost like you haven't." - He pulls up on my ponytail as he leans against the bleacher seat.
"I already told you not to do that anymore." I stare at him, irritated. He rolls his eyes, a smile on the corner of his lips. That was the thing about Max—he loved to annoy me. Mom used to say that boys his age were "just like that", which I didn't understand since I was only one year younger and not as stupid as he was.
"Why do you keep coming to the races anyway? If You just keep making these stupid drawings. He pulls the sketchbook out of my hands and starts looking at it." To my surprise, he doesn't make any mocking comments about the drawings. The audience cheers for something, and Max hands me the sketch as he gets up to look at the screen.
"Come on, Josh," he says quietly, sitting back down and adjusting his hat on top of his head. - "Your brother is horrible. He pulls me out of the race to be overtaken in a ridiculous way."
"My brother isn't horrible;" I say annoyed.
"Oh, you wouldn't know, Olivia. You don't even watch the races," he accuses.
"Of course I do. I always watch the races for my brother"; I cross my arms. Max laughs and turns to face me.
"Really livie, when you decide to watch it, it's not for Josh that you do." I frown in confusion. "You know I'm better than him, and I know you know, because deep down, it's me you root for." I feel my heart race and my face turn red.
"Well, if you're so good, why are you here and not on the track?" I say this to annoy him, and I succeed because he gets serious and goes back to focusing on the race.
"The fact that you're talking to me and not rooting for your brother proves my point," he smirks. "And besides, what he did wasn't fair; it was a bit of luck for him". He shrugs.
When I think about replying, I see Jos Verstappen approaching furiously.
"Max! Let's go to the hotel," he says furiously.
"I want to see the race." Max's voice changes, and I see his face turning red again.
We can take him later, Jos. My mother approaches.
" Boy, I told you, 'Let's go to the hotel' it wasn't a question." His voice increases.
"But dad..."
I feel my heart squeeze. I never liked Max's father. Ever since we became family friends, Jos has always fueled competition between him and my brother in the worst possible ways. Max snorts and waves slightly at my parents, who don't like Jos' attitude at all.
" That's enough. You lost; you made a stupid move, and you lost. There's nothing to see if you're not on the track." Jos pulls Max by the arm, forcing him to his feet.
"Bye Max."
"Bye, Olivia."
_________________________________________
Just to be clear, that's all for fun. Let me know what you guys think and if you wanna know more about this two. Again english it's not my first language, and this is my first imagine ever so please be nice. 🥹
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stranger things ● the new girl pt 2 ● g. emerson
warnings
swearing, bullying , jason carver / Andy, awkward flirting, Gareth using a firm tone, you all know that tone ashes will die on the dominant hill obvs, he is and y'all are sleeping on that shit, a little splash of 'bickering like an old married couple despite literally just meeting' and a big ol' dash of mutual pining. reader is female with long and curly hair, no other physical traits mentioned beyond that. why yes.. yes i am hellbent on reviving his tag. listen he's my grumpy lil drummer dude i can't just let it die.
word count
3657 exactly. Part Two... for now.
** if you guys were to hint you want more... this could /possibly/ be arranged... maybe.**
summary
continued from ( this post )
Gareth can't get you out of his head so he tracks you down. Maybe you're a little flirt and maybe.. just maybe.. he's into it.
taglist
-- if you want to be added to my stranger things taglist again, please go ( here ) to add your name otherwise I don't tag.
@tbmunson - bestie you knew i was tagging you. this is about our boy.
@allelitesmut
other links
masterlist ● gareth's masterlist ● about + rules
He hasn’t seen you since that morning. Not that he’d ever admit he was actively looking in the first place, but.. It’s as if you got his attention with your antics that morning and you promptly vanished off the face of the earth.
By lunch, he’s described you to at least three different people and all he’s gotten are blank stares. Questioning glances.
That is, until he talks to Anna, a girl in his English class, the class he has lunch during.
She just laughs. “What do you want with her anyway, Gareth?”
Gareth shrugs because he doesn’t even really know the answer to the question she’s just asked. Parts of him want to make sure he didn’t imagine the whole thing. Other parts of him are curious about him.
“If she’s not out behind the cafeteria with the other smokers, she’s in the art classroom… I think.” Anna answers after a few seconds. Gareth walks out into the hallway and he tells himself he’ll leave it alone. He tells himself if you wanted to be found, if you wanted to see him again, you’ll bump into him first.
But as he passes the Art classroom, laughter and the sound of Fleetwood Mac drifts out into the hallway and draws him to a stop at the door. He’s leaning in the doorway and blue eyes scan the classroom. He’s perplexed because he doesn’t see anybody out front.
In the back of the classroom, you’re sitting on a low bookshelf, essentially vibing to Silver Springs as your friends talk back and forth about some party being held out in the woods on Friday night.
When the most powerful part of the song begins, you glare at Molly and Edith, silencing them with your gaze as you start to belt out the lyrics.
I'll follow you down til' the sound of my voice will haunt you
Give me just a chance
You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you
Time cast a spell on you, but you won't forget me
I know I could've loved you, but you would not let me
I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you
“Holy shit!”
“Belt it.”
“Girl.. why are you not in choir? We need a singer. It’s a dire need..”
You’ve got your head thrown back and you’re just belting the lyrics at the top of your lungs without a care in the world. Your feet swing and the heel of your platforms beat light against the cabinet below the counter you sit on. Your eyes are closed through this, you’re just feeling the song.
Gareth hears you belting out the song towards the back of the classroom and he’s torn for a second, hesitating in the open doorway. He knows he should walk away, go to lunch and stop looking for you in crowds like he has been most of the day. Common sense tells him that if you wanted to be found, he’d have seen you at least once in the hall by now.
He comes to a stop as he catches sight of you and three other girls he recognizes from various classes he’s had with them over the years and he gets to watch as you thrash your head around and sing “I’ll follow you down ‘til the sound of my voice will haunt you.” with your head thrown back and your eyes squeezed shut as if you’ve felt every single line in the song playing.
Adeline spots him and nudges another girl, Molly.
“What do you want, Emerson?”
At the mention of his last name, your eyes pop open and you lower your head, locking eyes with Gareth Emerson, the boy from the hallway this morning. You give him this grin that starts at one corner of plump red stained lips and slowly, lazily, it spreads to the other. “Oh hey, there’s my hero!” somehow, your grin gets brighter.
And there’s this playful twinkle in your eyes that has his cheeks on fire. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and gives a little wave. And the amount of sass in that little gesture has you laughing soft, the sound makes him smile before he even realizes that it’s happening and he’s doing it.
You slip off the counter and saunter over, stopping still in front of him. “It was too loud in here, huh?” and you’re giving him this coy little pout as you say it, your fingers walking up the front of his plaid and lingering on the Van Halen patch that’s coming loose at a corner.
Gareth’s brain is frozen, words will not leave his mouth.
“If it’s too loud in here, he could’ve just kept walking.” Molly gives Gareth a scathing glare. Gareth rolls his eyes at Molly and he starts to respond with his own sarcastic comment, but instead, he just lets it go.
“You’re uh.. You’re really good.. At singing, I mean.” Gareth manages to mumble at last. You shrug it off and laugh softly, all while shaking your head. “Am not.” and after you toy with the loose corner of the Van Halen patch just a second longer, you make yourself look up at him. Bite your lip a second or two. Blue eyes fix intently on the way you’re biting your lip. And the little playful pouty thing you’re doing.
He has the passing thought that you’re flirting with him but as quick as the thought comes, he’s shoving it out again. Because no girl in her right mind flirts with one of the school freaks.
“It’s the song. It’s a spell. Or so I’ve heard.” you want to punch yourself in the throat as the words leave your mouth. The goal here was to come off as mysterious. Rebellious. Unbothered. Untouchable by the typical high school bullshit you’re forced to endure day in and day out.
Gareth chuckles quietly. It covers up the groan that almost comes when he realizes that apparently, in the space of seconds, one of you or the other has stepped much closer and now, as a result, your bodies are brushing against each other and all he can smell is strawberry and decadent vanilla as it hangs in the air between you both heavily.
“A spell, huh? That’s uh.. Interesting.” he can’t think of anything else to say. Meanwhile, Molly, Adeline, Edith and Maria are pushing past, hurrying to the door of the classroom to escape the thickening tension in the air.
“We’re going to lunch.” Molly announces. "The air is.. weird in here now."
“So go to lunch.. You guys don’t like.. Need your hand held to do it.” you laugh, waving them away dismissively. Molly gives Gareth one last scathing glare and Gareth returns the glare without hesitation. And you catch the little glare, laughing softly to yourself about it. “Molly’s a pill.”
“Yeah, that’s uh.. That’s one way to put it.” Gareth mumbles, wanting the floor to open and swallow him whole when he says it. You’ve got your eyes trained on the front of his plaid shirt and you’re lightly clutching at it with your fingers.
You’re wearing red nail polish, he notices, and it’s chipping. Kind of makes him think you have a nail-biting habit. Wisely, he doesn’t say this out loud.
“You’re not going to eat?” he asks quietly.
You wrinkle your nose. “Depends. Smelled like road kill and shit when I walked out into the hallway a few minutes ago.. If they have salad?” you tilt your head, giving him a hopeful little look as you say it. Gareth clears his throat and shuffles his feet, redistributing the weight from one foot to the other.
He’s not a tall guy, not even slightly. Nearly every guy in school towers over him. But somehow, the fact that you come up to the center of his chest..does something to him. Something he’s better off not thinking about a whole lot, but it goes without saying.
“You smell really, really good. Clean.” you want to kick yourself when you realize you’ve said it out loud, in a dazed tone at that. Gareth snickers but his cheeks burn up all over again. He raises a hand and your eyes catch on long and thin fingers and you bite down on your lip and watch as thin fingers tangle in thick curls. His hair looks like it’d be soft to touch and every part of you wants to know if this is the case or not.
But the pause is awkward and lingering and it’s driving you crazy. And even though you don’t want to step away from the guy, you know that sooner or later, you’ll have to. You nod to the classroom door in front. “So uh… Food? You mentioned food?”
“Oh.. yeah. I did.” he wants to punch himself in the face. ,, This shit, man.. This shit is why you never really attempt socialization.” the thought comes and he shakes his head, annoyed with himself.
As the two of you wander out into the hallway, Jason Carver and his friends happen to be walking past. And naturally, Jason can’t just let him walk by without trying to regain the upper hand.
“Hey.. why don’t you let one of us show you around school, little girl?”
“Novel idea here, but why don’t you go fuck yourself, ape?” you retort, all with the sweetest smile you can manage on your face and one hand wound in your thick mess of long and wild hair. “Gareth can show me where things are.”
Gareth smirks as he happens to lock eyes with Jason and sees Jason seething in it.
As they start to walk away, you can’t resist what comes out. “You should’ve knocked him unconscious this morning with the book.”
But his only takeaway from any of this is somehow, you already know his name and he has not one clue what yours is. As the two of you approach the Hellfire table, Jeff nearly chokes on the sip of Tab he’s just taken. And Ethan is quick to grab another chair, shove it next to Gareth’s as he gives Gareth a shit-eating grin. You flop down in the seat and Gareth takes his usual chair.
“Hi.” you’re greeted by curious gazes from around the table. And you’re not the best at dealing with more than one or two people -smaller groups, at a time, so… You just kind of sit there, one leg tucked beneath you and your shoes resting below the chair you’re sitting in. You drag your spoon through the Trix yogurt you’d grabbed in the lunch line. And as you raise the spoon to your lips, Jeff speaks up, giving Gareth a pointed look.
“Are you gonna introduce your new friend, Gare?”
You laugh. “He would if he knew my name.” you’re only teasing, of course. Gareth grumbles, it’s something sarcastic about you being the one who’s been talking to him for nearly fifteen minutes by now and not one time have you introduced yourself and you snicker even more.
“Aww, you’re just a total grump, huh?” you say it in this overly teasing tone that both Ethan and Jeff pick right up on and they’re sharing a look across the table.
“My name is ___. Call me whatever though, really doesn’t matter.” you shrug and dig your spoon into your yogurt.
“Hey, don’t you live in that house right next door to the Creel house?” Mike asks as he gazes at you. You laugh and nod. “What’s the deal with that place anyway, huh?”
“Uh, well for one, it’s haunted.”
“That shit’s not real, Ethan, grow up.” Gareth grumbles, rolling his eyes. “It’s just abandoned. Guy lost his mind and murdered his entire family. Ghosts do not exist. The house isn’t haunted.”
You cringe. “Ick. Alright then.” you take another bite of yogurt and Gareth’s gaze lingers on the way the spoon disappears between your lips. And just to tease him a little, you laugh and ask, “How do you know ghosts don’t exist though, Gareth?”
“Because they just don’t.” Gareth argues back. Leaning into you like you’ve leaned into him. You pout a little and shake your head. “Maybe they do, though. Do you have proof they don’t, Gareth?”
“Science? Logic?” Gareth argues back, taking a bite of his cheeseburger. You burst into laughter and take one of your napkins, dabbing at the corner of his mouth. “You uh.. Ketchup, dude. You had ketchup.”
Dustin speaks up next because if he doesn’t, the tension between you and Gareth will choke them all. “So.. where’d you move here from?”
You laugh. “New Orleans, actually.”
“And that explains the accent.” Gareth mumbles, mostly to himself. You give him a light shove and roll your eyes. “Hey, mister. You have one too. Trust me. You guys sound just as weird t’ me, hon.”
It hits Jeff that you’re wearing a Black Sabbath tee shirt and he chuckles. “Sabbath fan, huh? You don’t look like the type.”
“Why the hell not?” you ask, pouting and laughing softly as you quickly explain that you were only joking just now. “But seriously, now I’m curious. What type do I look like?”
From behind you, Andy from your homeroom -and a serious thorn in your side since the first day you started Hawkins High, let it be noted- speaks up. “The type of girl who shouldn’t be sitting with these freaks. You don’t belong over here at their table, sweets.”
“I dunno, man.” you glance up at Andy over your shoulder and roll your eyes, “ Kind of feels like I’m better off sitting here than anywhere near you. Call them freaks again, jackass. I dare you.”
“You do realize that this is the opposite of fitting in, right? And you wanna fit in don’t ya, doll?”
“Ew. Disgusting.” you grimace as he calls you a doll for the thousandth time in a week. “Why are you even over here, ugh.. Go away.”
Mike is snickering when he leans in to whisper into Will’s ear, “This is amusing.”
“It is.”
As all this happens, Gareth is sitting beside you, fist clenching tighter and tighter around his fork. When Andy opens his mouth again to say something, Gareth turns halfway in his seat so that he’s facing Andy and he can look in his eyes. “Look, asshole. She said she doesn’t want to talk to you. Maybe fuck off already? Or are you really that bad at taking hints?”
You swallow hard and shift in your seat when Gareth takes on the firm tone and tells Andy to get lost. You’re leaning against Gareth’s side just a little because someone’s come over to the table to talk to Jeff and Ethan and they squeezed in between where you’re sitting and where Jeff is sitting, so this forces you to get closer to Gareth just to make space. As your soft hair brushes against his arm, Gareth grips the edge of the table in front of him.
“What’d you say to me, you little shit?” Andy’s leaning down. Trying to get in Gareth’s face and you roll your eyes before speaking up. “Well, my question is answered.”
Andy’s gaze settles on you and he chuckles. “What? Who the real man is? Clearly it’s me, darlin.”
“No, I was actually wondering if you’re all as equally smooth-brained as that other idiot Jason. Now I know. Yes. You are.”
“You’re a mouthy little bitch, aren’t you?” Andy pops off, glancing at Gareth as he nods at you, “You might want to tell your girl to watch her mouth when she’s talking to me.”
The fork Gareth’s gripping in his hand snaps and when he speaks up it’s calm. Deathly calm. “For the last fucking time.. She told you to get lost. Get lost or you won’t like what happens.”
Andy realizes that the last time he’s seen Gareth this angry, it was 7th grade. Right before Gareth Emerson beat his ass in front of everyone at the park in town after school. And he smirks to save face. “Like you’re gonna do somethin’, freak.”
“He already did, idiot. Or did you forget 7th grade?” Ethan speaks up, amusement glinting in his eyes as he fixes them on the jock. Andy tenses up, flinching as if he’s been slapped. Jeff chuckles. “Our point exactly, man.. Save yourself and go.”
Andy walks away and you let out a ragged breath. “Finally. I thought he wasn’t gonna leave.”
Gareth fixes blue eyes on you. “You need to stop antagonizing them, damn it.” and the firm tone he chooses to use has Ethan and Jeff sharing a look, their brows raised because they’ve never really heard their best friend use that particular tone before. You pout a little and take a sip of your juice box, finishing it off. “‘Kay. Fine.. So I can just stab him in the eyeball with my fork next time?”
“No! Just leave those fucks alone, alright?” Gareth tries to but he can’t hide the slightest hint of panic when he has the outburst. Or the firm tone he’s used yet again.
You pout a little. “Fiiiiine.” you drag out the word and blow at hair as it falls into your face, muttering in a quieter tone, “Killjoy.”
“Look. You don’t know them like we do, alright? Just trust me. Antagonizing them is not a good idea.”
“He’s not wrong. They chased me and my friends home after school one day like they were going to run us down on our bikes in Jason’s Jeep.. and they were all laughing about it. Sane people don’t do that.” Dustin explains before going quiet.
As Eddie Munson saunters over, Gareth’s entire body tenses up. Jeff spots Eddie and calls out with a laugh, “You finally drag your ass to school, Munson?”
Eddie nods at you and mouths to Jeff, “Who the hell is she? Why is she sitting here?” and Jeff mouths back that he’ll tell him later.
Eddie’s smirking though, and there’s a mischievous gleam in doe eyes. “Gareth? You gonna introduce us to your new friend, man?”
You’re covertly slipping french fries off of Gareth’s plate like you’ve been doing for the better part of two minutes when Eddie clears his throat to get your attention. Gareth gives you a dirty look for helping yourself to his fries and you stick out your tongue at Gareth before glancing over at Eddie where he sits. “Yeah?”
“So.. do you have a name, sweetheart?”
“ ____. Call me whatever, though. Except sweetheart.”
Eddie chuckles. Rubs his chin thoughtfully as he glances from Gareth to you and smirks at Gareth. Gareth glares at Eddie, daring him to start his usual teasing and torment shit that he always does in these situations. Eddie merely shrugs.
“Sabbath fan, huh?”
“Noooo.. I just thought the shirt looked cool.” you deadpan, popping the top on your can of soda as you hold Eddie’s gaze and smirk. Then you grin and nod. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.. Yeah. They’re only my fourth?” you’re pausing, holding up your fingers and mumbling band names under your breath before grinning, “They’re my fifth favorite band.”
“Wait.. you named off all metal.”
“And?” you don’t miss a beat. “Something wrong with that?”
“Not at all.” Eddie shrugs. As soon as you’re preoccupied with a conversation Jeff starts with you about your old hometown and the lack of things to do there, Eddie leans into Gareth and chuckles. “Interesting..”
“What?” Gareth raises a brow, glaring at his best friend. “What’s interesting, Eddie?”
Eddie only laughs and shakes his head. “Nothing, Gare. Nothing at all.”
“I hate it when you do that shit, fuckhead.” Gareth rolls his eyes and grumbles.
“Lies. You love me, man. You know it and I know it.” Eddie chuckles. Rubbing his chin thoughtfully as Gareth turns his attention back to you. Eddie smirks to himself as he sits and watches Gareth watching you while you’re not looking, carrying on an animated conversation.
You talk with your hands a lot.
The realization has Gareth chuckling to himself.
,, She’s fucking stunning.. But the stunning girls don’t go for freaks.” the reminder wipes the little smile he had right off his face.
Someone mentions Corroded Coffin and your eyes light up. “You guys have a band?” you’re suddenly staring at Gareth intently, drawing him out of his own battle with pessimism. “No way.”
Gareth shrugs. Smirks a little. “I’m the drummer, actually.”
“Oooh.. I thought you were a drummer.”
You want to kick yourself when you say it.
Because he hasn’t noticed you in the last class of the day.. But you noticed him two days ago. Kind of hard not to when his go to habit when he’s bored and pretending to pay attention is to drum his pens softly against the top of his desk. You’d noticed him when you were trying to look around, see who kept making the little sound you were hearing behind you.
“How?”
“We uh.. We have 7th together. You drum your pens when you’re bored.” you pout a little as you say it too. Gareth’s mouth opens and then closes again.
“Wait.. you’re in my 7th class?”
“Mhm.”
“How’d I not know that?” he chuckles quietly. You shrug. “To be fair, I can be really quiet when I choose.”
“Uh-huh, right.”
You flip him off playfully.
The bell to end lunch rings and the two of you stand up at the same time. Pushed to a close proximity as you begin to migrate towards the area designated to put away lunch trays. You don’t move away, you move closer instead. Because there’s so many people and so much noise and maybe.. Just maybe.. Even if you’d never admit it, Gareth Emerson being beside you makes you feel just a little less aware of the crowd and the noise and all the things that freak you out.
#gareth emerson#gareth emerson fanfiction#gareth emerson fanfic#gareth emerson imagine#gareth emerson x you#gareth emerson x reader#gareth emerson x yn#<- my writing ● gareth emerson#<- warnings ● bullying swearing awkward flirting and mutual pining... kinda..#<- warning. female reader ● long curly hair + black sabbath t-shirt.#fandom ( stranger things ) ● season ( 4 ) ● character ( gareth emerson )
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Far away 🌻
mariposa by peach tree rascals but it's miles thinking of gwen after she's no longer in his dimension
w/c: 753
tags: fluff, miles missing gwen, down bad, fluff
I can't wait for you to come my way
I've been far away, but I'll keep running
Just to find a way to you 'til then
Quickly after the other spiders returned to their own dimensions all Miles was thinking of was wanting them back. To have others like him to talk to. To get advice from. To swing around with.
But one thing that crept into his mind even more was Gwen. He hadn't even known her for too long but he felt like he could talk to her easily and then realizing he wouldn't be able to see her anymore kind of just stung.
He grew use to seeing her and enjoyed their chats more than he thought he would. Even before he knew who she really was he felt attracted to her, obviously shown by his poor attempts at flirting and the proof of that being her haircut.
He wanted to figure out a way of how to visit them, or Gwen specifically. He didn't know too much about quantum physics but on days where he'd be done with schoolwork and being a friendly neighbor spiderman he would go off reading textbooks and writing down notes while also trying to remember everything he's reading.
I been running from it, tired of running from it
Scared of feeling something
Now I'm stuck and tryna get up out of this hole
He eventually had some understanding of quantum theory and as he thought of it more he was realizing his feelings for Gwen grew stronger. He hasn't seen her for two weeks and he felt like he was going to lose his mind. How was it possible to have a crush on someone from a whole other universe?
He was second guessing on whether or not he should continue his research, feeling almost nervous of how serious his feelings had grown and unsure if he'd even do anything if he did end up figuring out how to get to her dimension.
I tried to be strong, I tried to make it work
But I've been feeling too numb
He tried hard to stay motivated, and slowly gaining confidence that if he did figure it out (which was a big if) he'd be able to tell her how he felt, or at least ease himself into it. Maybe take previous advice uncle Aaron gave him months prior before he even met her.
Skies are bleeding on me
Why'd you leave me lonely?
Feeling Whitney Stoney
He knew she had to go home otherwise she would've just died but it still saddened him when he was no longer able to hang out with her. She was easier to talk to after he found out she was just like him and Peter. He'd never find someone else that was as easy-going and funny like her that'd also have him in his feels as fast as she did.
Now I'm stuck and wonder where I ever went wrong
How could I be strong?
I'm fighting for your love
Miles wished there was another way of getting to her, something easier like taking a train to her. Unfortunately for him there was no way of getting to her. Unbeknownst to him anyway.
All he could do was draw her from his memory, and lucky for him his memory wasn't failing him. He vividly remembered the pretty blue of her eyes and the way they sparkled.
Or the way her hair looked when they first met when he got to class late and she was the only one to laugh at his not so funny joke.
Or the way her eyebrow piercing suited her so well.
Or how she had such a cute smile.
Or how pretty she looked in his school's uniform even though every girl wore the same exact thing.
Or the way she was fighting and swinging.
I can't wait for you to come my way
I've been far away, but I'll keep running
Just to find a way to you 'til then
He decided to change his mind on what he wanted to do in the future, instead of focusing on his art and his old dream of wanting to be an artist, he realized he could do better and greater things.
He could be the one to figure out quantum theory, he could find a way to go see his friends and he would do whatever it takes.
And he wouldn't wait until he got to see Gwen again, at some point.
#miles morales#miles morales fluff#miles morales fic#miles morales imagine#across the spiderverse#spiderman#ghostflower#ghostflower fluff#ghostflower fic
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SO-24: Whatever Happened to Poor John?
If there's a lot of engagement on this, this post is liable to get real long, beware before you expand.
No art, but I am working on it and I will add it retroactively. The eyes are letting me draw, just real slow.
Welcome to the Engagement Lounge, for La Goualante du Pauvre John (253|24) an instalment! Short comments can go in the replies, but there's a 475 character limit. Longer ones will need a reblog. Remember to @asksoldieron if you're reblogging someone else's reblog, so I can see it too!
Woo! We just got back from a 2 night stay on a houseboat, it was definitely trying to kill us (I'll do a post on the main blog later, I have so many scary pictures), and we loved it anyway. So I'm distracted, but I did manage to unwind a little. No wifi, only phones! But I think I got pretty much everything formatted OK before we left. We'll see!
Now it's time to back up and see what happened to John after he smacked into the Elysium Inn's glass door and escaped into the wild! His friends picked him up and they're ready to do more terrorism together! ...Well, maybe in a little bit. They all need a break to unwind, too, but they're not gonna get it. Jenny will put her big brother back together as best she can, but she's going to be a little irritated with Erik and Co. and everyone else who allowed him to break down that badly.
And we end on a cliffhanger! The "real spy" is suddenly revealed! Unfortunately, that'll be all you get for about two months, unless I can put something cool together for our birthday in April. It's doubtful.
The spouse and I are about to have the most stressful two months of the year (probably... hopefully). He's got to prep for his CPA exam, which is 8+ hours of testing over multiple days. They will require him to do two practice cases a week, timed, the longest of which will take 5 hours. We expect adding that much fake accountant business on top of his actual job and everything else we gotta do will fry his brain. And there's the added stress that the test costs thousands of dollars. If the unlikely happens and he fails this time, taking it again will hurt. We can swing it, but it'll hurt.
It looks like his current employer has his back, though. The capitalist exploitation is different up here! A promotion to a better-paying position that will qualify for the experience he needs to be a full CPA (he needs 2.5 years) is in the works. If he gets it, he can stay with them, and they'll pick up his school costs. His dream job is still doing actual, meaningful work for a nonprofit of some kind, but he can hack this one for another 2.5 years if necessary. As long as we can still afford food and housing! I think we can. The whole immigration thing seems a bit backed up, but when we're allowed to own property, we can afford a floating house like that houseboat we stayed at. Not exactly like it, dear god no, but similar. That may be what our future holds.
But we gotta make it to June, first! I have no idea what my internet life will look like or how often you'll see me, but I'll try to get some stuff done. Hopefully, I can come back with another six, illustrated, as soon as the stress abates. Thank you for your patience until then!
[Back to Site?]
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okay since I'm not a fanfic writing guy- lemme tell y'all about my evil hank au that i wish I could write but probably won't. Questions in my ask box are appreciated to help me flesh out the au and maybe I'll draw the responses? But in short:
Takes place after S7.
Hank decides he doesn't want to go home to a family that doesn't love him after the hospital stay and runs away. He has thought about leaving before because of his father's lack of care for him. He's tired of being #2, being the sacrifice. The point of breaking was seeing that neither his girlfriend (side headcannon: hank being obsessed with girls is because he just wants anyone ever to show him affection. Sirena was no different.) and even worse his brother- the one person he thought he could trust- didn't love him either. Everyone loved Dean. Nobody loved Hank.
The Monarch captures him as a lure for Dr. Venture but Hank tells them he won't come. He doesn't care. He should have captured Dean. He breaks down crying and Sheila comforts him while The Monarch awkwardly goes to make some hot cocoa. Sheila tells Hank he can stay with them for a little bit but then he has to go home.
He never does go home. The first time Sheila told him to leave, Hank came back within the hour crying. He told her he could never go home again. He felt cared for with The Monarch and Sheila, perhaps even loved. They always made sure he was fed and comfortable, and Sheila even listened to his problems just about every night. One night, Sheila suggested Hank consider becoming a supervillain. It might make him feel better. Of course he couldn't arch his father, he belonged to The Monarch. But he could arch Dean. Besides, it was Dean's fault wasn't it?
Hank isn't officially registered as a villain under the guild, but Sheila keeps him out of trouble. The first time he arched he was blinded by anger and jealousy and went all out trying to be intimidating (but not actually hurting anyone). Brock eventually has enough and goes out to talk to him. Hank holds back tears and leaves. Dean is shocked and upset. Rusty is disappointed.
Hank returns home to his new parents. He's dropped the Venture name. He is only Hank now. And Hank couldnt even arch his brother right. Sheila consoles him again and tells him he'll get better over time. She gives him a little monarch pin that he now wears all the time on his Batman sweater.
Eventually Hank gets the hang of it. He and Dean fall into a routine. Hank will swing his bat close enough to Dean to make it look like its gonna hit him. Dean will dodge out of the way just in time. Brock refuses to step in. He can't bring himself to hurt Hank. Every time, Hank leaves disappointed in himself for still being too attached to hurt Dean. Every time, Dean goes to bed crying wondering what he could ever do to make Hank love him again. He misses his brother.
Hank is tired. He misses his brother, too. Maybe if Rusty was out of the picture, he could learn to forgive Dean. The Monarch promises if Hank can capture Dean to lure Rusty, he'll take care of it. Hank succeeds by tricking Dean to come talk things out with him. Hank feels bad, but tells himself its necessary. When Rusty does arrive he has Brock with him. He tells Brock to get Dean back while he distracts the Monarch, even if he has to kill him. Brock refuses.
Hank is still shook hearing this. He's heard his father offhandly tell someone to kill him over Dean before. But the absolute hatred in his father's voice this time hurt worse. Hank slumps to the floor, making it easy for Brock to take back Dean.
"I hate you, Henry. You've changed and I hate the person you've become."
This was the last thing that came from Dean's mouth before he left, leaving Hank feeling more alone and broken than he ever had in his life.
Nothing Sheila or the Monarch say could get Hank out of his room for days. What was the point anymore. Nothing has changed. In fact, its even worse. Sheila feels bad and suggests taking a break.
Dean does not hate Hank. In fact, quite the opposite. He loves his brother so much and can hardly live with himself seeing him like this. He regrets what he said to him. He regrets every little thing he has every done to Hank. He wants him back, and at this point he isn't sure if that will ever happen.
He hates his father. He goes on constantly about how angry he is with Hank. How much he wishes Hank would have just been more like Dean. Dean doesn't think he deserves to be talked about so highly.
Hank decides to do one last arch. He would tell Dean everything and then leave. To where? He didn't know.
Everything was going fine. Dean was dogging his swings like he always did. Hank's swings became more and more aggressive as he talked to Dean. He told him everything. He took all the love from everyone Hank ever cared about. By the end Hank's eyes were clouding with tears.
Dean shouts at Hank. He loves him. He never wanted this to happen. He never wanted Hank to feel like this.
Hank knew it was a lie.
He swung. Hard.
He heard a thump.
After wiping the tears from his eyes, he could finally see clearly. In front of him was Dean, laying in a pool of blood coming from his head.
He wasn't moving.
Hank broke down. He called for Brock.
As soon as he saw Brock coming, he ran home.
Hank didn't sleep that night.
The next day there was a knock at the door. Brock came to tell Hank that Dean was actually alive and in a coma, but he wasn't sure if he'd stay like that. Hank refused to see him the first day. He couldn't stand the guilt.
Hank went the next day alone. He needed to at least apologize. By the time he got there he realized he wouldn't be leaving. Not until Dean woke up.
Hank spent the next few days at the hospital feeling miserable and talking to Dean and breaking down.
I don't have much fleshed out for when Dean does wake up. But they definitely make up dw.
Ummm I will accept and encourage questions in my ask box it will help me develope things !!!
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You know, after seeing Larcei come away from talking to this guy fuming and with bloody knuckles, Edward was all set to march up to this weirdo and demand either A. another match, or B. some arm wrestling, if more knucklecrunching wasn't fair because Larcei is strong, and she would definitely give anyone a sound walloping — But well, he isn't blind, and that is definitely a fully busted up hand. Like, broken degrees of busted up. The bones, that is.
Dang, what did the guy do to warrant Larcei breaking his whole darn hand? And — Oh, yep, that's blood, alright, not just from the knucklecrunching. Is there some fight ring the elementals set up he doesn't know about? There's nowhere near enough commotion for that anywhere nearby... Then again, everyone knows the first rule of fight club. (Still, an invite would've been nice!)
He hasn't forgotten the fact he wanted to get this guy's measure, maybe give him a piece of his own mind, but Edward can't quite help the curiosity or the low whistle that leaves him on closer observation, cocking his head, grey eyes inquisitive.
"Yow, man — You going to get that looked at? Could almost think you enjoy looking like you came out the wrong end of a bar fight."
The kid had marched almost all the way over to him before something made him stop and stare. Griss flashes him a sharp look. "You gonna just stand there and gawk or--"
No, he's got something to say, as it turns out, and it swings Griss' attention back down toward his swelling hand. What was it, some kind of attraction? Then again, he guesses it's not everyday someone winds up injured at a ball of all things. But people like him usually didn't wind up in places like this. The question is naive enough though, and draws out a huff of laughter. When he looks up again, it's with a much more amiable smirk.
"Yeah. You ever had something broken before? It's the only thing that'll make you really aware of what's inside of you," he answers proudly, then studies the kid for a second. He seems curious, which is weird, because Griss had thought he'd definitely been on a warpath when he'd started for him. If it's the injury that's put him off suddenly, he releases his hand and raises it triumphantly almost like a trophy. Whatever stunt that Larcei person had pulled, he certainly didn't hate her for it. The opposite, in fact.
"The pain's gonna go away before long though, so I want to savor it while I can. Then I'll see about having it put back together. Anyone ever told you not to stick your nose in a stranger's business?"
#justices blade#toaball2023#// setting this right before edain swoops in to drag him by the ear for healing#// both of them getting griss in a good mood just because he's riding high on pain is so funny considering they both stormed over to him#event thread : edward1
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the inside of the shrine is sooo different...all the sheikah tech has just been SCRUBBED from this game it's so weird
the water here heals me like a hot spring though 😭
and there's a hole to go deeper in!
YIGA BANNER IN HERE??? HELLO????
HOLY FUCK
there's a lone banana in the middle of a room and a cowering construct who won't talk to me bc it senses an enemy this IS a trap. PLEASE be master kohga
okay lame it was just one guy. that could have been epic my heart was fucking jackhammering
this construct told me to visit the great abandoned central mine and it's the second one that did so. i think maybe thats how i get autobuild? ugh i'd love to find it but the map down there is so big and scary......
i suppose i should be looking for this gate...i KNOW i used to know...
could it be where that big pond was??? that's where the biggest chasm is, maybe i'll head there first...
oh my god there's a PERSON here?
lmao i thought it was a cece fangirl but it's: you guessed it: a yiga
died to a nearby bokoblin and had to refight her lol
man this all looks SO different, it's nuts....
i think i'm at the agte but i don't see a way to help anyone trapped underwater...this is creepy, the whole plateau kind of swings between nostalgia and uneasiness
oh! there's rocks down at ground level! you can drain the pond to get in aaaaa
this must be bc there's no fast travel points i've found so far lol
i found a statue that looks like the poe statue and it wants me to go BACK to the temple of time? bro i just walked all this way lol
WILD to be at the bottom of this pond tho.
oh my god i almost WENT IN THE CHASM without doing this quest. the statue wants me to check out all the holes!
it wants me to drop one of its EYES into each hole. yikes
aww my old paraglider fabric is in the chest where i got the original paraglider
wasn't really sure what these eyes were supposed to look like but they glow so you cant miss em
i was gonna go in and check it out, but...maybe i'll drop all the eyes first :/
unreal that there's not a single fast travel point or shrine in this whole place. fucking crazy
weeeeird to be in the abbey without the guardians. i don't like it
found another yiga lol
oh no the old man's cabin!!!!! taken over by monsters :(
it's weird how much i hate king rhoam but feel fond of the old man even though theyre the same. fuckign guy. dissonance.............
no omg by YIGA!!!!!
holy shit. if i hadnt had two sages and some defensive food i wouldve been done for
awww they had a hostage! i saved him and he gave me a yiga mask lol
oooh a map of yiga hideouts...i took a picture for later >:) i won't get ambushed again
a yiga clan log...theyve developed new vehicles lol gloomdredger and HOVERDOOM mk 3. yes, with caps! lol i forgot they were doing the chasm thing now...
rude drawing of link on the door. REALLY good
oh wah another rainbow...right after it vanished farosh flew by. fuckin metal
three eyes down, one to go.......
the monument is still on top of the mountain 🥺 lol and of course there's a korok seed up here. glad i didnt make the climb for nothing at least
last eye down. apparently now i jump, and carry them to their owner :|
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Same as it ever was 8
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.
Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner
Note: hello again.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
You change out of your work clothes into a pair of old jeans and a fraying sweatshirt. You can smell the smoke from the basement as you huff at the ceiling. Great. You thought maybe having Pete home could at least spare you a few minutes to lay down. As usual, you have to save the day he's spoiled. Not that it was any good before that.
You go upstairs as the fire alarms wails and you hear Simone asking if everything's okay. You come up behind your daughter and gently touch her shoulder, "go read, everything's fine."
Pete pokes the button on the detector with the end of the broom as you hurry in to move the pan from the burner into the sink. The pan is ruined as the breasts stick, burnt to the finish entirely. You shake your head as you face your husband. He looks like a beaten dog as he holds the broom and pouts.
"I'll put some of the frozen nuggets in the oven," you resign, "why don't you set the table or something?"
He mopes and puts the broom back in the closet. He doesn't leave though. He approaches as you open the freezer and take out the breaded processed chicken. You put the bag on the counter and tear it open.
"I'm sorry, babe. I'm really... I'm trying."
"I don't want you to try, Pete, get it through your head," you whisper sharply, "I don't want you. At all."
He sputters as you refuse to look at him. You pull out a baking sheet and spread out the nuggets. He watches, helpless and stunned.
"You can't mean that," he mewls.
"What am I supposed to want with you?" You ask, "You blew it. We both did. It's done. We just... get through for the kids. For the company, until you can pay me alimony."
"Huh?" He chokes on the noise.
"Mom," Simone jolts you as she chimes from the doorway. You and Pete turn in unison. "That idiot with the lip fur is outside."
You frown as Pete gives another confused utter. "Who-- he is?"
"He knocked but I told him to go away," she shrugs, "don't think he got the message."
"Simone," you look at Pete as he furrows his brow. "My boss..."
"What the hell is your boss doing here?" Pete asks.
"I wouldn't know," you answer dryly.
You march out of the kitchen, past Simone as you go to the front window and peer out. You see Hansen inspecting your mailbox before he jams the doorbell. Great.
You go to the door with your daughter and husband trailing you. This is the last thing you need. How dare he come there and disturb your family. He gets eight hours a day to torture you. And you haven't eaten, you're about to fall over.
You swing the door open, ready to eviscerate him but stopping short. You can't do that. Not least of all because Simone is right there.
"Mr. Hansen," you greet airily, "what can I do for you?"
"Ah, nice to see you too," he eyes Pete over your shoulder as Simone stands beside you.
"Wish she could say the same," Simone sneers, "I told you to go away."
"Sim," you reproach, you're starting to think she gets that from you. "Mr. Hansen..."
"You're the boss? What're you doing here?" Pete asks, gripping the door frame as he' stands almost right against your back.
"You must be the old man," Hansen smirks, "didn't the wife tell you? She got a promotion."
"Huh, old man-- promotion?" Pete reels aloud. "No."
You swallow and suck in air. Just go along with it. One wrong step and he might just tell the truth for once.
"I haven't had the chance, we've been making dinner," you simper sourly.
"Well, I wish I could say I'm just here to say congrats but business calls," Hansen checks his watch.
"It's six-thirty," Pete scoffs.
"Oh, you know, the big boys, it's a business dinners and useless small talk but gotta put on a good face." He looks at you and a line forms between his brows, "so better go doll yourself up."
"Wha-- right now?"
"I called you. Several times. You didn't pick up. Your problem, not mine. Let's go," he snaps your fingers.
"Mommy," Malik's voice startles you as he squeezes between you and Simone, "oh! Mommy!"
He whimpers and clings to your leg as he gapes up at Hansen, hiding behind you like he did when he was younger.
"I told you he's evil," Simone grumbles.
"Alright, everybody, inside," you declare as you raise your hands, "Mr. Hansen, please, just, give me a couple minutes."
"I've given you a few already but suppose I can't take you to dinner with grease on your shirt."
You look down at the new stain on your sweatshirt. Of course. You back up and close the door, turning to face your family, crowded in the entryway, bearing down on you.
"Okay, here's what's going to happen. Pete, put the chicken in, twenty minutes, make sure you flip them so they don't stick. Simone, keep an eye on Malik, please, help him with his homework, honey. Mal," you pause and untangle your son from you, "be good, please."
"Are you leaving?" He pouts.
"I have to."
"What the he--ck," Pete corrects himself before he can swear, "you're just going with him?"
"He's my boss, Pete," you snip, "I don't have much of a choice. I need the money. We both do. I doubt it'll be all night. A dinner, easy."
You know it's probably not what Hansen says it is but you're not going to unveil that deception. It's better to go along. You hate to lie to your family but you'd feel worse to let them down.
"Great, so you get to go out and have a fancy dinner and I have to stay here?"
"Pete," you sniff, "you're a father, start acting like it." You stop yourself, "Simone, Malik, please, go watch some TV."
Simone frowns as she peeks between you and your husband. You see the suspicion and anxiety sparking in her. She takes Malik's hand and takes him into the living room.
"I'll bring leftovers, happy?"
"That guy looks like a real scuzz bucket," he growls.
"Oh, please, you've spent how long staying late to go to dinners and be with Miss Panties or No Panties," you snarl, "don't start because I have to miss one night."
"Honey," he changes his tone, "I can't-- what do I do?"
"What do you do? Figure it out," you shoulder past him, done with the argument. You haven't won, you have to go put up with Hansen.
"Babe," Pete calls after you.
"I'm sure you could ask Simone, even a twelve year old can figure it out," you toss over your shoulder as you stomp upstairs.
🗄️
You pull on a plain black skirt that ends at your knees, of the few you have among your wardrobe. You match it with a lamb gray blouse and a blazer you can’t button. You try your best to refresh your hair and face but at this point, there’s not much you can do about it.
You come downstairs and slip into a pair of round-toed flats as Pete watches silently. You know he wants to argue. You don’t want to go either but you’re sure as shit not telling him that. Let him suffer while you do the same.
“I’ll try not to be too late,” you shrug on your coat and hook your purse over your shoulder, “Malik, don’t give your father a hard time at bathtime and Simone, do your math. You can’t read all night.”
You reach for your phone and spin back for the door. Pete catches you, holding you at arm’s length. His blue eyes cling to yours with a glimmer of desperation.
“Love ya, honey,” he says, “I really do.”
You gulp and put your chin up. The kids are there. You try not to let your loathing tighten in your cheeks, “love you too…” you eke out and clear your through. “Love you all.” You pull away from him and smile at Simone and Malik, “have a good night.”
You quickly turn away and scurry to the door. Something about the moment leaves you breathless. The realisation that your family is hanging by a fraying thread. You pull the door shut as you come out to find Hansen leaning on the hood of his sports care. Is that douche bag red?
You come up the walk as he watches you with a smirk, “adorable, got the whole clan home.”
“Please,” you grumble, “let’s just get out of here. Far away.”
He stands up straight, “already jonesing for more, huh?”
“No, I just don’t want you near my family,” you retort.
He cackles and the car chirps as it unlocks. He goes around the driver side as you approach the passenger’s. You open the door and get into the low seat. You don’t like the incline of the seat or the smell of the air freshener. Everything about him is unbearable.
He jams his index into the ignition, hitting the button to turn the engine. He sits back and rests a hand lazing on the bottom of the steering wheel as he pulls out slowly. You buckle the seat belt and stare ahead.
“I’m sorry I didn’t answer the phone–”
“Good start, toots, but a better one would be your hand in my pants,” he snickers.
You cringe and put your purse between your feet. You strain against the seat belt and lean over the stick shift. As you reach for him, he swats you away and growls. You retract, annoyed.
“I thought–”
“You know, I was thinking of just driving you to the Wendy’s parking lot and sticking it in,” he cruises well past the speed limit as he remains casually reclined, “but that seems too easy.”
You grit your teeth. He’s mocking you. He slaps his hand on your knee and drags it up your thigh, rumbling your skirt.
“I didn’t know you owned one of these,” he pinches the hem, “you really got yourself prettied up, huh?”
You don’t say anything.
“Can I make a suggestion? Doesn’t matter, I’m gonna. Try something shorter. You got the tight part but this is something my fourth grade librarian would wear. Oh, and lace. Or silk.”
You want to scream at him. Does he really think you can afford all that? That you want your ass or tits hanging out in front of your daughter? He knows all that, he’s once again making a joke of you.
“Aw, tootsie roll, am I upsetting you? Well, that’s real fucking shit,” his voice goes rigid, “I was pretty upset listening to your voicemail on fucking repeat.”
“Sorry, I told you–”
“I don’t care. Busy? Not in my world. Let’s get this straight, the only thing you’ll be busy with is me. Or… I think Petey Boy may just love to hear all about your workplace antics. I mean really, he should be proud, you’re fucking skilled. That man, I see why he put a ring on it. Wherever it is… Shit…” he skids to a stop at a sign and looks at you, “you didn’t have to pawn it off? That’s goddamn sad, honey buns.”
You inhale and lift your chin. That would be a better story than the truth. Besides, you have a feeling he doesn’t genuinely care.
“I’ll buy you a new diamond. Two of them, one for each titty,” he chortles as he steps on the gas again, “what’s your birthstone? I’ll get that for your ass.”
“Mr. Hansen, I understand you’re upset. I didn’t listen. I didn’t answer the phone, but I can’t just leave my family–”
“You will do whatever I tell you,” he interjects, “first, you’re going to stop. No more excuses, you figure it out. Second,” he veers into a lot, just behind an unmarked office building, “you’re going to loosen the fuck up.”
He steers around to the back of the lot, parking slightly crooked and across the lines. There aren’t too many other cars this time of evening. He turns off the engine and rolls his shoulders. Well, it’s not a Wendy’s at least.
“Get in the back,” he orders.
You want to ask what or why but you know better. You get out and open the back door. You sit on the end of the seat.
“Lay down,” he says, still facing forward.
You glance at him, slightly confused. You slide up the seat and recline. His seat belt snaps back against the interior and his door opens. Gravel crunches under his soles and his shadow passes between the car and the streetlights. He darkens the open back door.
“Pull your fucking skirt up,” he orders in exasperation, as if you should’ve done so already.
You lift your shoulders and reach down to tug at your skirt. It’s hard to get it up, it’s tight and uncomfortable, you should’ve thrown it out. You feel the zipper about to burst. Impatiently, he shoves the hem up as he bends over the seat.
You’re suddenly very self-conscious as you realise what he’s going to do. He holds himself between your thighs as his hand crawls up to your panties. High-rise cotton underwear that balloon a bit too much around your pelvis.
“Sir, I’ll just take care of you,” you insist as you try to sit up.
“Fuck off,” he snarls, “lay down.”
You blink as your lip twitches. You can’t remember the last time Pete did that. You’re not okay. You don’t want Hansen down there. You really don’t want anyone at this point.
“Really, Mr.--”
“Lay the fuck back and shut up while I eat your pussy,” he grabs your panties and yanks, jolting you.
You fall back as he forces the fabric down. He growls and rips along the seam. You close your eyes and tense. As he exposes you, your thighs quiver.
He presses his face against your leg, his mustache tickling you as his breath dampens your skin. You swallow a shiver. You’re oversensitive and strung out. You squeeze your eyes tight and focus on your breath as he nuzzles and nips up towards your cunt.
You clench as he gets closer. Without thinking, you push your hand to his head as you try to stop him. Your heart is racing. Why is this harder than what you’ve already done?
He snatches your hand and throws your arm over the edge of the seat. You wince as he bites into your tender thigh. You squeak and he growls, his nose grazing up to your lips. You hold your breath as he closes in.
His tongue flicks up and you gasp. He glides between your folds, delving into you, humming so it rumbles through you. You raise your hand to grip the back of the seat. You forgot how nice this felt.
He takes it slow. A patience you’ve never seen in him as he dotes on your clit, swirling back and forth, suckling, dipping his tongue up and down your lips, lapping up your flowing delight. You quiver as you sink into the sensation, almost forgetting the man who’s inspired it.
His hand creeps up to your blouse, beneath your open jacket, and he squeezes your chest through the fabric. You wiggles his head back and forth as his tending grows more intense. He spreads his tongue wide and groans, his mouth slurping and sucking noisily.
The heat spreads into your thighs and tingles up your back. You arch your spine and dig your nails into the seat. You puff as you feel a climax rising. Hansen stretches his other hand over your stomach, pinning you down as he devours you ravenously.
You’re tipped over the edge, letting out a series of squeaks and squawks as you give into the orgasm. You’re dizzy from the sheer ecstasy of the moment, of his still lapping tongue, not stopping even as you cry out. He keeps on, urged on by your helpless moans. As in everything, it’s never enough for him.
#lloyd hansen#pete brenner#dark lloyd hansen#dark pete brenner#dark!lloyd hansen#dark!pete brenner#lloyd hansen x reader#pete brenner x reader#same as it ever was#series#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#au#the gray man#pain hustlers
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The Octarian mock battle is drawing to a close. Both sides have made some kind of push into the opposing dome, so there's fighting on both ends. The remaining members of Yulia's squad had made it to the enemy headquarters, most of them taking their battle to the outer defenses, with fewer still heading inside. It was Yulia alone that had decided to charge into the heart of the building, where she's expecting at least one of the other Krakens to be.
A single powerful kick was all that was required for her to break down the door. Once it had fell to the ground with a loud clash, Yulia found herself standing face to face with the other Kraken, though it wasn't who she was expecting.
"What the shell, Quelaan! You're not supposed to actually break stuff!"
Eris Hawkeburn, the eldest of the four Krakens stood opposite her, and though she was a bit exasperated due to Yulia's choice of entrance, she didn't seem all that surprised to see her here.
"The battlefield can be unpredictable in many different ways. I thought you'd be well aware of that." Yulia's confident tone would perhaps come off a bit condescending, but statistically speaking it is rather warranted. She's beaten Eris in training matches almost every single time they've fought. "Tamura's not with you?"
"No. You're stuck with me unfortunately. Though maybe she'll come back once she's done mopping the floor with whatever sub-optimal defenses you've got set up." Eris is unbothered by Yulia's display of confidence. To her she's just another cocky youth who thinks the world is at her fingertips.
"Then I'll just have to deal with you before that happens."
And with that, the final battle had begun. Yulia didn't hesitate to charge at the enemy in front of her, throwing a swift punch at Eris that was narrowly avoided. There was no attempt at a counterattack. Not yet. Eris backed off despite not have a lot of space to do so in the small room.
Yulia took this as another opening to strike, swinging her left leg at the Kraken in an attempt to push her into the corner. Just as predicted, Eris backed off once again, this time more or less cutting off any chance at an escape. If she wanted to act, she'd have to do it now.
...Though nothing came of it, and Yulia was afforded an opportunity to attack again. This time her strike actually connected, and she was able grab Eris by the throat, though she had been aiming a bit higher, hoping to remove the scoped goggles from her face. With this she was able to slam the other against the wall, knocking the wind out of her. And in this desperate position, Eris was finally forced to act, flailing her legs around and managing to kick Yulia in the gut with one, staggering her enough to raise her other leg high enough to deliver a kick to her chin, causing her to let go and stumble back some.
Yulia simply smirked. The pain did sting a bit, but it was overshadowed by the relief she felt at knowing her opponent hadn't simply given up. It wouldn't be like Eris to just admit defeat anyway.
While Eris had to take a moment to recover, Yulia grabbed her once again, this time by the arm. And on this occasion she wouldn't be allowed a moment to retaliate, as she was soon lifted over Yulia's head and sent crashing back down to the ground. She had attempted to brace for the impact with her limbs, but that may have only made things worse as they all felt the shock of it. That would surely be sore later tonight...
Still, it would take more than being tossed around to take down a Kraken, and Eris wouldn't allow herself to lose so easily. She scrambled to switch forms and jump between Yulia's legs. After hitting the ground on the other side she propelled herself upwards with a small jet of ink, like a mini superjump and landed at the back of Yulia's neck, right where she wanted to be. From here it would be an easy task to get two pairs of tentacles around her in an attempt to strangle her.
Yulia of course struggled against the weight of the octopus on top of her and the strangulation. Eris was very good at what she did, so she quickly started to feel that shortness of breath, indicative that the air wasn't quite getting through to her.
With her position in the middle of the room, she resorted to a somewhat unconventional tactic as simply prying the tentacles from her neck wouldn't be an option. Instead, she threw herself backwards with as much speed as possible. Hitting the floor with a thud and crushing the octopus between it and her back.
It wasn't enough to free herself from Eris' grip, but the impact did at least do enough damage to allow her to remove all but one of the tentacles from her throat with ease. The feeling of the air getting to her lungs again gave her the energy to continue her assault.
Yulia spun around and got to her knees so she could inspect her opponent, but before she could manage another attack Eris had already managed to peel herself from the ground and hit Yulia in the face with her knee in the process. This was followed up by a punch, also delivered to Yulia's face, though she could tell Eris' strength was waning from the lack of power behind it and her shaky stance.
The pain was getting a bit harder to ignore, but that wouldn't stop her from making one final push. She rushed forward at Eris, barely thinking as she grabbed her by the throat once again and ran her into the wall behind her. The next blow would be the final one. Yulia wound her fist up and thrust it forward...!
...
But just a moment before it made contact, an alarm went off. A signal that one team had managed to capture the other's headquarters, and the battle had concluded.
Yulia dropped Eris to the ground and grabbed her radio to check in on her ally.
"Sumire! Respond! What's going on over there!? You didn't really—"
Eris stood up, battered though she may be. Her plan to hold Yulia off until her base could be captured worked, just as she expected. Though she wished she could have avoided taking such a beating.
"Heh... Better luck next time, Quelaan..."
Eris tapped Yulia's shoulder as she slowly walked out of the room, with all the confidence of someone who just got beaten up... which is surprisingly a lot.
She had earned it though. Her team had managed to come out on top, and they would surely be enjoying whatever rewards victory brought soon enough...
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𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 ; 𝐞.𝐣𝐚𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐫
𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠?
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summary: y/n went to bed to fall into a new world where she met a boy, Eren. every night she would spend with this imaginary boy, but what happens when one wants to stop dreaming?
playlist
Chapter 3: 𝙖 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙚
masterlist
Eren Yeager x Female Reader. College!AU
.
Eren seemed...clingy last night...he wouldn't let go of me for a second, his head rested on my lap with an arm wrapped around my waist looking at me. His brunette baby hairs that were previously framing his face fell onto my lap as I stroked his chocolate locks a smile crept onto his face.
I didn't think this imaginary boy could be so needy,
but...I didn't mind I liked seeing him soft for me...
anyway,
that's really it, bye-bye!
You close your dream journal, hand throbbing at the sudden scribbling when you haven't even gotten dressed yet.
you'd usually be greeted with my poor door suddenly swinging open but Sasha had "the worst headache in the world" from her drinking last night.
pulling back the shower curtain...You turned on the shower, hissing at the icy temperature.
You stripped yourself from the tank top and pajama shorts you wore to sleep.
after brushing your teeth, your features were unreadable with the cloudy mirror. getting into the shower with closed eyes trying to picture Eren sitting on your lap again, he looked so adorable.
.
【ＥＲＥＮ'Ｓ ＰＯＶ】
Dragging my leg to follow my commands as I sheepishly walked into the cafe to meet up with my father.
He told me it's "important" so he is probably using me for his company again.
the chimes went off as I entered the cozy shop, looking around to be met with my dad's cold stare.
as I sat down I took note of how he didn't get anything to drink. probably wants to make this fast so I can't decline
We got into awkward small talk when he finally asked the question I came here to answer.
"So, remember Mina?"
"Yeah, like pigtails Mina?"
"She is a very sweet girl"
oh no
"What did you do?"
"You both have a little date set up tomorrow."
"What? why?"
"Remember how her father started that small business way back?"
he is using me to get a business deal done?
this is where I draw the line.
"You seriously think I'm going to date her? for a business deal?"
"Look, you will do this Eren, it's not asking you."
I stayed silent
"I'll double your allowance"
I scoff at his request. my dad gives me a monthly allowance for basic things, so I don't need to work
"I won't do it no matter the money you'll give me."
"Fine then. I'll cut it off."
"Go ahead."
"Your mother would be so disappointed"
"What the fuck did you just say?"
"Don't talk to me like that."
"Disappointed in me? ME? arent you the one that ran off with another woman 6 MONTHS AFTER MOM DIED."
"Calm your voice Eren" he scoffs at me.
"It doesn't matter if you'll agree or not it's already set in stone. she's expecting you at 7 pm tomorrow night for a dinner date. you just need to date her until I get what I need."
I bounce my leg as I stretch my jaw, I can't do anything about it.
he gets up saying a fast goodbye and leaves.
.
.
sinking into my mattress, my phone starts ringing. I pick it up to see Armin face timing me,
"Hey, how'd the talk with your dad go?"
I explain everything to him.
"well...maybe this will be good! what if you actually like her!" he tries to cheer me up
"No Armin, I don't want anyone else."
"What do you mean by "anyone else?"
"Nothing."
"Look Eren...you...you haven't been with anyone since you started...y'know...dreaming about her."
I told Armin about Y/n after I kept dreaming about her and I couldn't get her off my mind. I never told him her name so he just calls her "dream-girl"
and yes, it's true...I haven't been with a girl ever since I started dreaming about her, which seems weird for a "player" but...It would feel like I'm cheating...
"This isn't about that Armin..."
"I'm all for fansites and whatever...but Eren, if this is starting to impact your real-life then maybe hold off with the dreams for now... you need to consider living your life." I wanted to yell at him. tell him he doesn't know what he is talking about, that I'm fine...I'm fine with Y/n...but another part of me felt like...he was right. like, I'm wasting my life chasing a dream. she isn't real, she'll never be real. but...how do I stop dreaming her?
"How...how am I supposed to stop dreaming her then?" I ask the question that was swirling in my head
"Didn't you say it's lucid dreams? can't you just make her disappear?" By that logic, I'd be able to make her reappear but last night she was late...I tried everything to make her appear but nothing worked...she came by herself.
"It's not like that...She just...shows up."
"Hmm, well then I'm not too sure...maybe think of someone else...or just tell her to go away?" telling her to go away? I could never do that...but she isn't real...maybe it's for the best.
"Mmm, alright...thanks Armin...cya"
"cya"
I end the call, hitting my face against the pillow. why do I feel so guilty about thinking about telling her to go away?
This is too much. I just want to sleep...like real sleep. I don't want to see her right now.
And I slowly fell asleep.
I was In a forest, I looked around to see no sign of Y/n...
the old trees looked like they'd go on forever with the heavy fog around me, I couldn't breathe.
I started panicking...
I started running, screaming out Y/n's name hoping, praying she'd appear.
please please I need her. where is she? shouldn't she be here?
【Ｙ／Ｎ'Ｓ ＰＯＶ】
You looked at the time, 12:04 am...You spent the night helping Sasha pack, she is going to her parent's house for a week. she will be leaving at 6 am and of course, she procrastinated until the last minute to pack.
jumping into my bed letting the mattress consume me as I drifted off to sleep.
I opened my eyes to see a creepy forest. Looking down to see your feet were replaced with a thick fog, the trees looked like they'd been there since the beginning of time, I could barely see the sky with the roof of leaves the trees provided, but I could make out gray clouds.
"Y/N!" I heard someone scream... it was Eren.
Running after the voice that kept calling out for you until you ran into a body with a familiar minty warm musky scent and their arms wrapping around you immediately
"Eren! what are you doing here!" You said as he dug his face into your shoulder
I could feel his rapid heart, beating out of his chest.
This is all too real.
"I've been looking for you" he said in between gasps as tears flowed out of his eyes
"it's okay, I'm right here Eren. okay? I'm right here" You hugged him tighter
For the rest of the dream, You changed the look of everything to an empty library that looked a million years old with a thunderstorm raging outside as you both sat at a table, tall bookshelves surrounding you both and cuddled around a book, thanks to the candle we could see the words.
"𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚜 𝙸 𝚏𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜...𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝙸'𝚖 𝙸 𝚜𝚘 𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚜? " the page suddenly turned
"Hey! wasn't done with it yet!" You giggle
"Ugh, but you take foreverrrr!" He groaned, I lightly hit his arm and turned the page back over
reading, You feel eyes on you. looking up to see him warmly smiling, going over all of your features
"Shouldn't it be the book you're reading?" You asked
"Well someone took too long so I'm reading something else now" His eyes scan over your nose, lips, jaw, neck...
"Oh shush now, the book is more interesting than a face...here, they are about to kiss!" You playfully yell as you turn the page over
"you're more interesting than any book I'd ever laid my eyes on" you feel my face become red
"stop it Eren! Now here look they're kissing!" You turn your body so your head is laying on his chest, pointing to the book as you kept reading so he'd stay on track but little did you know he was too busy admiring you to pay attention to the book.
Chapter 4
˜"*°•.˜"*°• see you soon •°*"˜.•°*"˜
an: heyyy shawtyyy....-i hate this chapter so I'm going to use the an i used when i posted this on ao3- AHHHH I can't even express how much I hate this chapter. and I know, if I hate it why don't I just redo it, but there is literally nothing else I can do it just seems like "fake emo" or just bad writing in general. anywho, I am so sorry you had to read that.
#eren x reader#eren#attack on titan#aot#eren jaeger#eren yeager#eren jeager#eren x you#snk#eren smut#eren yeager smut#eren jeager x reader#eren jeager smut#shingeki no kyoujin#eren yaegar#eren jäger#eren x reader fluff#eren x fem!reader#eren x y/n#eren yaeger fluff#eren yaeger angst#eren yaeger smut#eren yaeger aot#eren jaeger x reader#eren jeager angst#eren jeager fluff#eren jeager x you#attack on titan x reader#attack on titan eren#snk eren
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PERFECT ## oikawa tooru
the air of perfection surrounding you makes him sick. you're worse than the geniuses he hates
. tw misogny, predatory behavior, smut, noncon/dubcon, slight dacryphilia, corruption kink, fingering . wc 1.2k
before his flight to argentina in a few months, oikawa made it a hobby to swing by his alma mater.
iwa's too busy and he can't possibly bother his best friend when he's working so hard in college. so oikawa tooru goes alone. sometimes, he comes in early while the team's still there. maybe he'll even join matches for fun — coach irihata still has a soft spot for him, apparently.
but most of the time he comes when the gym is empty; when there's an absence of the squeaking shoes and the ricocheting balls. it never fails to make his heart swell in nostalgia. ah, how he’ll miss this place terribly once he moves to argentina.
something did change, though.
oikawa wouldn't call it drastic but the first time he crashed their practice, he was all but pleasantly surprised to see the new aoba johsai manager.
you were a pretty thing and the boys adore you a lot. you didn't look the type to apply as manager just to score an athlete boyfriend nor did you seem to have any other objective other than taking care of the team. oikawa can say as much because he could see how the new captain looks at you and the way you purposely try to keep things platonic. friendly. you don't let yahaba, or anyone in the team, go the extra mile for you.
and the fact that you can miraculously keep kyoutani in check is the cherry on top. while the said player is still rough around the edges, he learned how to listen to you and the last time kyoutani ever listened to anyone was months ago, when iwaizumi was still in the team.
team morale is high when you're there to support them on the sidelines. in your white and turquoise tracksuit yet still managing to look attractive. yahaba's got quite the patience, if oikawa do say so himself.
you were like some sort of goddess to them. it's sickening how dewy-eyed his ex-teammates would get whenever you smile and hand them their water bottles. it was too good to be true. you were too good to be true. there has got to be some sort of conspiracy behind this whole ordeal.
"oikawa-san, i didn't think you'd be here at this hour."
he turns around at the sound of your voice. there you stood in casual clothes, hair tied up and face bare. with the harsh angles the moonlight created together with the poor lighting of the gym, you look normal. not an air of that perfection he’s always seen circulating around you.
"how did you get in? only yahaba and i have the keys."
you saunter closer and it wasn't a wise move on your part. while you have aoba johsai as the same denominator, the alumnus was still practically a stranger. quick exchanges of acknowledgments aren't exactly sufficient to get to know someone. let alone be friends with. but you never once thought any of that. how naive.
he smiles as you finally stood next to him. you can't help the slight dread pool in your stomach at the sight of it. with his tall lean frame that can easily overpower you, the smile looked more ominous than friendly.
"bold of you to assume i gave the keys back. why do you think shigeru had to duplicate them again for you?"
you didn't see it coming, the arm oikawa slings around your shoulders before pulling you flush against him. you would've lost your balance if you hadn't clutched the lapels of his coat.
"can it be…" his plush lips graze the shell of your ear as he whispers. "our little secret, cutie?"
warning bells are going off in your head. it tells you to run and stay the fuck away from him but you did nothing of the sort, had only forced a polite smile and swiftly ducked around to get his arm off you.
this is oikawa tooru we're talking about.
yeah, you know he's quite the ladies man but you doubt he'd go... that far, especially if he knows the person's uncomfortable. not to mention, you're part of the volleyball team! you're managing his past team. surely, maybe, the familial bond extended to you too despite only joining their little family this year. you were just being paranoid. you were reading into it too much.
"uhm, yes. of-of course."
oikawa does have to admit, seeing little miss perfect stutter and avert her eyes from him did wonders to his ego. well, now you don't look anything like the goddess his ex-team worships. you're not exuding the same level of confidence or reliability that you always carry yourself with. you look unsure of yourself. powerless in the face of real dominance.
"why are you here?"
"i…" is it really wise for you to say why? "i forgot the team's record notebook in the girl's locker room. i need to pass a summary of it to coach tomorrow.”
oikawa smiles, eyes comically lighting up in excitement before slinging a heavy, oppressive arm around you again. "ooh, i'll come with!"
you walk with shoulders slightly folded in and the ex-captain likes you like this. all meek and submissive. he daresay you look prettier compliant and not like a self-entitled princess who thinks she shouldn't bother being romantically involved with an athlete. he still thinks you were bitchy and idiotic for friend zoning yahaba of all people. he thought you should be very thankful for getting noticed by his junior.
but oh well, at least oikawa gets to have a go.
to witness firsthand what the fuss about you is all about.
you wanted to shrug his arm away and he knows that but he won't do it. the fact that you're struggling to even speak up about it makes him smirk. see, now you know your place. as you should. sometimes, girls like you who get silly little ideas in their head should be reminded of where they truly stand in the food chain. oikawa is more than glad to be the one reminding you.
you told him to wait outside while you sauntered into the girls' locker room and oikawa smiles that innocent smile before nodding.
a prey really shouldn't have turned her back on a predator.
just as you picked up your blue notebook on the bench, the resounding lock of the door clicking shut sounded too loud in a closed-off space. "oikawa—'
"you know, i'd really appreciate if we drop formalities. i think screaming tooru while i fuck you sound way better. makes things more intimate, dontcha think?"
he was onto you before you even got the chance to turn around. the notebook you were holding drops to the ground as he grabs hold of your wrists, his leg swiping at your ankles to tackle you to the ground. he's quick. the floor is hard and cold when your back crashes into it. you wince, the shock of what's happening yet to register in your system. never before thinking that this sort of thing will happen to you.
oikawa isn't as cruel or disgusting as you think. you were both legal adults. he knows. after all, he was there when the team decided to throw you a surprise birthday party on your 18th. he was also there from around the corner, eavesdropping when yahaba pulled you aside and confessed his feelings to you and you had the fucking audacity to turn him down.
he doesn't want to call this revenge, not when he'd still do it whether or not shigeru had confessed.
you were from a different breed of people. worse than geniuses. you are so disgustingly perfect in every sense of the word that it's so fucking unfair. it fueled jealousy more severe than he ever felt from tobio or ushiwaka.
because people aren't perfect. people aren't meant to be perfect. even oikawa himself is far from it so why should you be any different from him? you're nothing special. you're ordinary just like him. you don't deserve it. you're not even working hard enough like oikawa to fucking deserve it!
you were red in the face when he took a good look at your pinned form underneath him. your eyes are glossy but held fierce contempt as you meet his gaze, your lips sealed shut in a straight line. you were trying to hold yourself back from crying and it only fuels the fire of his anger.
"what, think i'm not worth your tears?" he growls, a hand coming up to pull your hair. he sits atop you, his legs pinning yours down as he straddles your hips. "think you're so high and mighty that you won't cry for your oh so dependable oikawa-san?" he purposely makes his voice high-pitched like a girl, copying you spitefully.
"that’s fine, i can give you a real reason to cry."
he rips your flimsy shorts off and ogles at your cute panties. pink with little bows? how innocent.
his large hand covers your mouth, the heavy pressure keeping your head in place as his other hand cups your sex. the heat of his palms makes you squirm. already simulating the sensitive nerves and you poorly try shaking your head in denial. because no no no your body shouldn't be enjoying it!
"ou're a real piece of work, (name)-chan," he starts, voice conversation as he nudges your underwear aside, the flat of his thumb drawing lazy circles against your bare clit. "why pretend you don't like it? it's okay to accept pleasure from ordinary people like me. you're plain and average at best too, you know."
with both his hands occupied, you can freely try pushing him away but it's futile. he's too strong and your head is starting to ache with how hard he's pressing it against the floor.
his blissful expression peeves you out entirely. he doesn't look regretful in the slightest. "you should really get off of that high horse, cutie. stop pushing me away. silly little girls like you belong like this, underneath a capable and powerful man to protect you."
you pant, the ministrations on your clit too good but you don't let it blind you.
"fuck yo—"
but oikawa doesn't let you finish. he swoops in for a kiss, a hand holding your jaw firmly in place so you can't bite him. a particular hard nudge on your clit makes you gasp instinctively and his tongue invades your mouth. he's a good kisser. so damn skilled from all the girls he's kissed before you. maybe if circumstances had been different, you'd have butterflies in your stomach.
"aw," he coos against your lips. "i see. little miss perfect wants me to fuck her? how cute."
you thrash and squirm, a pathetic sneer on your face as he holds you down with ease. all it takes is one firm hold against your shoulder as he nibbles on your neck, kissing and suckling at your skin until they turn purple and red. he placed them in positions he knows you can never cover even with the official aoba johsai uniform. why would you cover them anyway? you should wear his hickeys with confidence! it's the one evidence to show he even bothered himself with you so you should be grateful to him!
"let go of me, you jer—!"
"i don't think i'll suck on your tits today, cutie. no time. let's get to the fucking already then, yeah?"
you absolutely hate his voice. it's the signature high-pitched and childlike tone partnered with that goofy smile of his. a facade he always wears when dealing with other people. a show he's mastered to an artform. he looks awfully unbothered by how wrong this is and it chills you to the bone.
"oikawa-san—please—"
"i told you it's tooru!" he whines, pouting. "how many times do i have to tell you?"
panic seizes you when his ankles hook around your legs to force them open. he hears none of your pleas and shoves two long fingers up your pussy. there's a slight stinging feeling as he looks for that one spot that'll make you succumb, make you admit defeat.
"if you want my dick inside this pussy you better call me by my given name or you won't cum, baby girl~" he says in a sing-song tone.
"who the fuck told you i wanted your—shit."
your toes curl and your back arches when his fingers grazed around a certain area. you didn't have time to feel betrayed by your body's reaction as the man on top of you chuckles condescendingly, angling his fingers so he hits the spot in every single thrust. "you like that, don't you? you like what my fingers are doing."
"no!"
"no?" oikawa repeats, measured. with a flick of his wrist, he has his thumb pressing firmly against the sensitive nerves of your puffy clit again and he watches you writhe, lose yourself to pleasure, moaning and whining so wantonly under him. "but cutie, i don't think that's what your body is telling me."
you cringe in disgust when his hot tongue laps at the falling tears in your eyes before whispering against your ear. breathy, and desperate, and ever so patronizing. you don't hear the zipper of his pants going down, nor did you realize he wasn't even bothering to hold you down anymore. good. that's a good start. baby steps, oikawa thinks. for someone who sat in a make-shift throne worshipped by hormonal teen athletes for so long, serving the one great king will be a huge reset for you.
when he enters, it's a tight fit. of-fucking-course you're a virgin. always staying true to that little miss perfect reputation, huh? sweet and gorgeous but humble and demure. you probably had the same shitty old school belief of staying pure 'till marriage. it makes him harder, makes his length throb and ache with the desire to taint, to soil, to fuck you until that good girl image is stripped away and all you can think about in every waking moment of your useless life is your tooru's big fat cock. your pure lips only producing the most sinful of words to satiate his deepest desires—"fuck me hard, tooru!" "make me your whore, tooru!" "i want to feel all of you, tooru!" "i want your cock so bad, tooru! please please please!"
your longing cries of defeat, the lewd sound of skin slapping, oikawa's pornographic moans—it's a wicked symphony crafted by prodigies. "go on, cutie. cry for me. cry, and cry, and cry, 'til you don't have anything left inside you but your sorry tears and my cum!"
little miss perfect? no. you're his little cockwhore.
#yandere haikyuu#yandere hq#yandere oikawa tooru#yandere oikawa#yandere oikawa x reader#toxichours#(❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) mine ༉‧#yandere oikawa tooru x reader#oikawa x tooru#tw noncon#tw dubcon#tw predator#tw corruption#tw dacryphilia#tw misogyny
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