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slasher-male-wife · 7 months

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Horror characters seeing their s/o covered in blood

Happy Halloween everyone. I did a poll awhile ago on what I should post for Halloween and this won. So I'm here to deliver what y'all voted on. I included a lot of characters in this just for fun. Disclaimer I haven't written for some of these characters in awhile or that much at all, so sorry if some of these are ooc.

Includes: Amanda Young, Michael Myers, Otis Driftwood, The Lost Boys, Candyman, Doomhead, Patrick Bateman, Severen Van Sickle, Pyramid Head, and The Sinclair brothers

Warnings: Mentions of real and fake blood, slightly suggestive content, gn reader, talk of drinking blood in The Lost Boys and Severen's section, violence, murder

Amanda Young

You weren't supposed to find out about what Amanda did. She wanted to keep you separate from the gore of her apprentice work. But accidents happen and somehow you get to where a trap had happened.

You were in the where-house when you slipped on a puddle of blood and got your entire front half covered in it. You screamed out and Amanda quickly came rushing in.

You standing there covered in blood made something tick inside of Amanda. Something she knows she shouldn't feel seeing you covered in blood.

But she pushes this aside and quickly assures you it's fake blood that happened to spill all over the ground. She can't stop herself from giving you a quick kiss before helping you leave.

She'll get you all cleaned up back at home but she won't be able to stop thinking about seeing you covered in blood.

Michael Myers

Michael was out while you were getting ready for a Halloween party. A part of your costume involved you getting drenched in fake blood. After pouring the fake blood all over yourself in your bathtub you let it dry and step out.

You're downstairs, gathering up your things for the party when you notice the feeling that you're being watched. You turn around and spot Michael watching you.

Michael knows what real blood looks like and considering you're pretty calm he knows this is for your costume. But something inside of him is yelling at him. Not in the usual 'kill someone' way, but in a 'get them and try not to hurt them' way.

You're going to be late to that Halloween party. Michael is going to stand there and make you spin around for him so he can watch you move while you're covered in blood. You know he's getting some kind of kick out of this, so who are you to stop his fun.

After this Michael will try to hint at you to get covered in blood more often. He'll even offer to get the blood this time, but it wouldn't be fake if he got it. He'll keep thinking about you covered in blood and won't be forgetting how it made him feel anytime soon.

Otis Driftwood

You walked in on him at a bad time. While you've grown to accept what your boyfriend does, you don't like partaking in his torture of other people. But when you walked into the wrong room at the wrong time you got sprayed all over with blood.

It coats your face, hair and chest. You thankfully didn't get any in your eyes or mouth. You do let out a scream of surprise but you're not too grossed out by the blood, living with the Firefly family for as long as you have will do that.

Otis takes a good long few moments to just stare at you. You're hot enough as it is, but seeing you all covered in blood like this? Otis is going to have to go take a long cold shower.

"Well isn't this my lucky day." He'll say before walking over to you, completely ignoring the victim now. He'll take all of you in and won't let you wash it off so quickly.

"I just wanna take a couple pictures of ya darlin'." He'll quickly get his camera out and have you pose for him while you're still covered in blood. This will come in handy when he's having art block or he just needs to have some 'personal time'.

The Lost boys

It's your first time feeding and it ended up getting really messy for you, considering you've never done it before. So you got just as much blood all over yourself as you did in your mouth.

Dwayne is the first to notice and he's smirking a little to himself as he watches your blood covered body move. He's committing this sight to memory and he'll probably find a way to get you covered in blood again.

David is the next to notice. He'll smile wider than Dwayne and make some comments about how messy eating can get at times. But he'll also talk about how hot you look covered in blood.

Marko doesn't even make a comment, he just straight up lunges and kisses you right then and there, fangs still out and everything. Seeing you all vamped out and covered in blood really got to him, making him loose all self composer that he has.

Paul also joins in on kissing you, but he'll opt for your neck since your mouth is taken. I can see him licking some blood off of you, but not too much because he loves the sight of you drenched in blood. But the boys will agree to try and get you that messy again the next time you feed.

Candyman

You didn't want to go with him. You summoned him and when he showed you how devoted he is to you, you didn't want to go. So he had no other option than to make you go by force.

You're entering your apartment after going to a Halloween party. Your costume was something you put together quickly and involved you pouring fake blood all over your front half. As you walk further into your apartment you get a strange feeling.

You try to ignore it as you walk to your bathroom to wash off the fake blood. Before you can do that you hear something moving in your medicine cabinet. You open it and after a few moments a hook jumps through it. You obviously scream and run out of your bathroom.

You're in your kitchen, picking up your phone when you see him again. He's looking at you with that same adoration in his eye from the first time you met him. He's looking you up and down. You're frozen again as he watches you.

"You're even more desirable covered in blood," He says in his sultry voice. You shed a couple tears as you try to move, but you're unable to. "I'll have to remember this the next time I see you my love. I'll never be able to forget this."

Doomhead

He knew you were going to a Halloween party, but what he didn't know was that you were going to be covered in blood when you came home. He knows real blood from fake blood and when he sees you he can't help but chuckle.

31 is coming up and he's always tried to keep you separate from it. Seeing you covered in blood is a bit of a double edged sword for him. On one hand he loves seeing you covered in blood, but he also can't stop thinking about 31, and what would happen if you got caught in it.

"Ok so I got a little too close to one of the decorations and I accidentally got covered in fake blood." You explain, taking off your shoes, "I should probably shower all of this off."

"Well I was hoping to get a better look at you like this." He says with a Cheshire grin. You roll your eyes but smile and walk over to him. He spins you around a bit, taking a good look at all of the blood on you.

He knows he'll have to tell you about 31 eventually, and that he'll always keep you away from it. But for right now he can enjoy watching his s/o look stunning while covered in blood.

Patrick Bateman

He got a little too careless and right as he was killing someone you walked in, getting covered in blood from the victim. You of course start to scream and he quickly covers your mouth.

He's so angry with you for interrupting this, but something about seeing your face and body covered with blood, excites him. "I can explain this. Calm down and listen to me." He says, trying to keep his voice calm. His anger starts to mix with arousal as he slowly slides his hand away from your mouth.

"Oh my god Patrick what happened? Who is this?" You ask, holding back tears. His attraction to you is starting to get a bit too much for him. He'll find a way to explain this murder, just like he'll find a way to explain why he wants to do it while you're covered in blood.

"He broke in and attacked me. I had to fight him off and I went a bit too hard I think. We can't tell anyone about this alright?" He says, trying his best to keep a calm, in control voice, "But right now we need to get to the bedroom.

Murder's don't get him as excited as seeing you covered in blood got him. He'll have to go out and buy some fake blood and recreate this with you again. He's glad he has such an understanding s/o.

Severen Van Sickle

It's been awhile since your last feed and when you finally got someone you could barely hold back from drinking as quickly as possible. Because you were so worried about eating as much as you could as quickly as possible you got yourself covered in blood.

After you pushed the body away Severen took notice of your blood soaked clothes. He couldn't stop himself from smiling and taking a good long look at you. He knows you'll be too full to do anything after feeding that much so he'll have to commit this sight to memory, just for some fun activities later.

You wipe your mouth and smear more blood over your face and Severen can barely contain himself at this point. He'll have to quickly ask you if you're up to help him, or if he should do it alone.

Either way he doesn't want you cleaning yourself up anytime soon. Even after his issue is taken care of he just wants to see you covered in blood. He loves how it looks in general but also aesthetically. If he has a camera on hand he's taking a picture of you.

He will try to recreate this later. Next time you're feeding he'll try to get blood all over you. I can see him filling up his mouth with blood and just spitting it on you because let's be honest, he's very dirty and probably has as many diseases as a stray cat.

Pyramid Head

You're walking around Silent Hill, trying to find some more food to stock up on when you come across one of Pyramid Head's recent kills. You don't notice and you slip on the puddle of blood.

You're used to the blood and gore of living with Pyramid Head in Silent Hill so slipping on blood and getting it all over your clothes is more of an inconvenience than scary. You groan and stand up, looking at blood slightly dripping off your clothes.

You turn around and find him standing near you. "I just slipped on some blood. It's not mine and I'm not hurt." You say. You can never really tell what he's feeling or his emotions but you can sense he's feeling a certain way about you being covered in blood.

You two just stand there while Pyramid Head is thinking about smearing more blood all over you. Seeing you covered in blood is doing something to him. So he walks over, get's blood on his hands and rubs it over your face and clothes.

He'll follow you around and just keep watching you while you're covered in blood. He'll be thinking about this for awhile, and he'll try to recreate it whenever there's free time or he just needs to see you covered in blood.

Bo Sinclair

You were busy going after a victim and it got a bit messy. You got yourself covered in blood. By the time you get the body back to the House of Wax the blood that's on your hair and face has dripped down to soak your clothes even more.

You hand it off to Vincent and when Bo sees you he pauses for a moment before he chuckles. "I like yer new look darlin'." He says teasingly. But he's using that teasing to mask how damn hot you are covered in blood.

You're able to pick up on this and you know a great way to get him back for making you chase down someone and kill them.

"Oh I know. I love this look too." You say teasingly back to him, moving your hands up and rubbing your hand over your face and neck, getting a good amount of blood on it. You walk over to Bo and smear the blood on his shirt before you step back.

"Too bad I'm about to wash it off." You say before you dodge Bo trying to grab you, "If you catch me before we get to the house I'll let you wash it off." You say before running out of the house, Bo follows behind quickly.

Lester Sinclair

You're helping Lester out by picking up a deer from the road. You're in the middle of lifting it into the truck when something happens and you get covered in deer blood.

Lester quickly rushes over to you and lifts the deer into the back of the truck. He's looking you over and making sure that you're ok. You'll have to assure him at least ten times that you're perfectly ok and that the deer just got blood all over you.

Now knowing that you're ok he does kind of realize that, you look good covered in blood. Lester loves when you get a bit dirty in general, but blood has him feeling a bit more excited than normal.

He'll zone out a bit for awhile until you bring him back and he acts like everything is good and he's totally not obsessing over the look of you covered in blood.

He'll keep this to himself until it starts to boil over and he admits to you that he hasn't stopped thinking about you being covered in blood. If you suggest the idea of getting covered in blood again he'll be all over that idea.

Vincent Sinclair

When you offered to model for Vincent's study you didn't expect to get covered in fake blood. But Vincent wanted you covered in blood and you didn't really mind so that's what the two of you do.

You stay still the entire time but you notice Vincent staring more than he is drawing. But once he notices you noticing him he gets back to drawing you.

He takes his damn well time to draw you and at one point he stands up and walks over to you. He starts to pose you in a different way and it's totally not an excuse to touch you and see you covered in blood up close.

He'll put you in so many different positions and will keep pouring blood on you. He's honestly memorized by you standing there covered in blood. At one point he'll bust out the camera and ask if he can film.

He sees you being covered in blood in a more romantic, artistic way that makes his heart beat faster. He'll have to get you covered in blood more often so he can draw, paint, photograph, etc you.

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flowerandblood · 7 months

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Equation without solution

[ Michael • Gavey x painter student! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut, trauma, mention of bullying, mention of physical and mental violence ]

[ description: Michael sees no point in worrying about anything, especially relationships, when all he needs is math. His calm, logical world falls apart when a female painting student asks him for help in calculating the best possible composition to create a portrait. Sexual tension, angst, a litte brat taming and domination kink, great childhood traumas. ]

The fragment with Michael in the trailer inspired me to write this. The whole discussion around this oneshot, whether it should be made at all, made me very tired. I don't think we'll get his backstory in the movie, but even if we did, I just felt like writing it - so here it is. Have fun reading.

Part 2 − Formula for perfection

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

Ever since he could remember, his father had explained to him that an intelligent man is not guided by emotions, but by logic. That's why he married his mother, that's why he went into the army. A long belt hung in plain sight in one of the cupboards of their house, so that he could use it to remind him this when necessary.

His father never hit him with his hand. He did not slap him, considering it humiliating for a man to do this to another man. Punishments were in the nature of a ritual, which he said he did not find pleasant either. He reiterated that only strong people survive in this world, that if a classmate beat him up at school he should not cry, but punch him back even harder.

He was afraid to tell his father when, once again after being hit by Creg, one of the school donkeys, his glasses broke in half. In panic situations he would run to his mother, who would look at him with terrified eyes and only repeat "quickly, your father must not find out".

He and his mother shared secrets, which she told him they could not tell his father so as not to upset him. Such things were the sweets she had hidden in one of the containers that pretended to be flour, or the savings she meticulously counted when he was away.

She would say that one should always be prepared, but he didn't understand for what.

One day he found a container of sweets standing by his bedside table and his mother had disappeared, leaving him and his father with only a short note, which his father tore up and said they would never mention her again.

He threw away pictures of her, all her clothes, everything, even his toys or his books, which she was the one who bought and read to him. He only managed to hide one, which was a maths exercise book that had slippery, oiled pages from which he could erase the results of equations at will and fill them in again with a dry erase marker.

This book became his favourite; he would only take it out at night when he was sure his father was already asleep and fill in all the blanks one by one, knowing them by heart.

He created his own ritual.

This calmed him down.

Later, however, these tasks proved too simple and tedious, he needed a challenge and asked his teacher, Mrs Rosaline, to recommend something to learn. She did so willingly, surprised by his diligence, and when he came in the next day saying he had solved all the tasks, she started sending him to maths competitions.

Maths was wonderfully logical and cool, you couldn't interpret it in different ways like poetry, you didn't have to get into the mind of the author of an equation to understand the result. Everything was preconceived and safe, a wrong result could always be explained, you could get to the root of it.

There was no reason to be sad, nervous or happy.

When, in high school, his tutor announced to his father that he was a genius and that he should start a career in science his father was furious. He said that mathematician was not a profession, that all his life he would remain the victim of fate that he had apparently always been destined to be.

He wasn't happy when he got into the best university in the country without any exams, he wasn't happy that he was one of the few to get his own dorm room and a big scholarship.

His father told him that he was already a man and not a boy, that he would not beat him with a belt to explain to him that he was not a genius but an idiot.

What he had learnt from his father was not to worry about such words. He would grin at him when he tried to explain to him what a mistake he was making with amusement and satisfaction as he watched the man who told him that emotions were a sign of weakness become enraged.

His father was weak.

He was emotional.

Even the army and the fact that he beat him didn't change that.

He thought that this was probably what his father, that is his grandfather, had tried to instil in him, but he had failed miserably.

He truly believed, however, that his father was right.

He didn't need emotions.

Numbers were enough for him.

He could calculate the probability of whether or not he would be able to communicate with someone by analysing quickly in his head with what frequency that person spoke about things that did not interest him.

He didn't consider whether he liked them and didn't even have any idea how he would have known that. He recognised that deciding on the basis of chemical reactions in his brain about his acquaintances was absurd.

Just because he didn't feel anything didn't mean he wasn't laughing or enjoying himself. On the contrary, he smirked a lot, usually while listening to other people's discussions or when he managed to get someone off balance.

Wealthy alpha males who owed the place he had earned only to their rich parents reigned around the university like kings, pretending to be intelligent, studying law, medicine or banking without having a clue what they were doing were his most common victims.

"I could never defend a rapist or a murderer. I don't know, it makes me flinch at the mere idea." Said Kyle once when they were sitting in the library, them pretending to study, actually sitting over open books they weren't concentrating on and talking, distracting him.

When he needed real focus he would study in his room, but when he felt like a bit of entertainment he would go out to listen to them.

It was better than a comedy in TV.

"After all, every man deserves a defence lawyer, he's innocent until the court hands down a final verdict." Matt, a boy who read a lot and could memorise things, replied, throwing quotes from his sleeve without much understanding of them. Kyle snorted, shrugging his shoulders.

"So what? Sometimes you subconsciously know this person did it by looking at them or the evidence is incriminating enough." He replied with a certainty that surprised him.

He corrected his glasses on his nose with his pointing finger, wondering how this moron was going to defend anyone in court if he himself was constantly undermining his client's innocence in his head while he himself wanted to be the judge against him.

"If it was as you say, there wouldn't be so many innocently convicted people in prison. Evidence seems incriminating until one new clue, piece of evidence or witness comes along that changes everything. It is the duty of the defence counsel to look for such details to the best of his ability, and not to judge his client unless he himself wants to plead guilty." He heard a second, frustrated voice and lifted his gaze, noticing a girl standing by the bookcase who had heard their conversation while looking for some book.

He recognised her only by sight, and knew that she had studied painting, so her person did not interest him at all. However, what she said frustrated Kyle and disturbed his nepotistic sense of superiority, so he gave this scene his full attention.

"I didn't know kids drawing with crayons knew anything about such serious matters as criminal law." He said piteously, a mocking sweetness in his voice, his gaze feigning warmth, meant to bring her out of her funk.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and saw that she was looking at him like he was an idiot.

"I don't need to know this to realise that no amount of money will make you a good lawyer. I feel sorry for your future clients, because you will destroy them yourself." She replied, raising her eyebrows in amusement, completely unfazed by his insult.

It surprised him that she looked happy and pleased to see his angry face, not letting him get a word in edgewise, grabbing the book she was looking for and walking off towards her friends sitting at a table in the distance.

On his way out of the library he heard her voice, heard her laugh, light and unforced, glanced at her and their gazes met for a moment before he walked out into the corridor.

He had forgotten about her until an incident when, sitting in the university restaurant, he noticed Kyle walking past her and pretending to stumble, the entire contents of his cranberry juice spilled on her dress, leaving big pink stains.

"Sorry, are you okay?" He asked, feigning seriousness and concern, and she stood up, furious without even speaking to him, walking away.

He watched curiously as Kyle sat down with his friends and high-fived Matt, clearly pleased with himself, putting his arm around some silly giggling girl.

After a while, however, that girl came back, dressed up, wearing only a man's long-sleeved shirt all soiled with paint, covering the small part of her thighs that she apparently used as an apron while painting, socks and trainers on her legs.

He felt something strange seeing her soft thighs, thinking of the fact that he himself wore similar shirts, and took a sip of coffee from his cup, watching as she sat back next to her friends, saying something quickly, going back to eating her lunch, unconcerned.

She laughed.

He shuddered when their eyes met and quickly glanced at Kyle, who was watching her from afar, licking his lips, his leg moving in impatience, the girl he was embracing whispering something in his ear, but he wasn't listening to her.

He was thinking.

Usually when he had to move from one building to another he went through a side exit, so as to have a bit of peace and quiet, but on this day he decided to walk through the main square, walking on its right side, looking through the windows.

He was not at all searching for her with his eyes when he saw the rows of easels and people around the model, dressed in historic Renaissance costume.

He didn't feel the heat stroke at all and stopped involuntarily when he saw her sitting with her back to him, her canvas smaller than the others, she sat closer, focused only on the portrait.

He could see her underpainting, just an outline and a sketch, and the lines she had drawn to help herself.

The golden ratio.

He shuddered at the thought that she was deliberately using mathematical proportional division to achieve a subconscious effect of harmony in the whole composition, which was, after all, just a base for the actual layer with chiaroscuro and colours.

He gasped when one of his year mates slapped him on the back, asking what he was looking at, and when he saw what he was observing behind the window, he laughed.

"These artists. They will die poor, but at least in their mind they will have created something outstanding. Until a critic comes along who says what they've painted is ugly." He muttered with amusement, putting his arm around him as if they were good mates, although they were not.

He looked back and noticed with pounding heart that this girl was turning over her shoulder, looking in his direction.

His friend had said something about the Mona Lisa, about how ugly she was and that he didn't understand how that portrait could be considered the most beautiful in the world, but he was unable to focus on it.

The golden ratio.

The balance of the composition.

Her painting was thoughtful.

He was convinced that painters only recognised their own artistic intuition and thus created ugly paintings, which they then called contemporary art.

He didn't think about her, or at least tried to until his mates told him that Kyle was throwing a party, to which he was obviously not invited.

"Apparently he even invited the girl he doused with juice at the time as an apology. Bruce says he recently brought her flowers during her classes and that he seems to have a crush on her."

"Sometimes it's one step from hate to love."

He didn't like the uncomfortable feeling he experienced in his chest, a sort of sting and tightness in his throat. He went back to the equation he had just solved without listening to them further.

Even if someone didn't know there was supposed to be any kind of party going on, they had certainly heard it that Friday night, the music, laughter and screams from Kyle's room echoing loudly through the dorm.

Even though women weren't allowed in there there were plenty of them, he could hear them running to the toilet, squealing and giggling, driving him furious as he couldn't concentrate on what he was reading. He pulled down his glasses, massaging the space between his eyes with his fingers, closing his eyelids, trying to calm himself.

His emotions wouldn't change anything.

He shuddered when he heard a knock on his room and looked uncertainly towards his door. He feared it was Kyle and his pack who had drunkenly decided they would have fun at his expense.

He swallowed loudly when he heard her voice.

"Can I come in?"

He felt his heart start pounding hard, a multitude of thoughts running through his head. He tried to analyse whether he should do it or not, what she might have wanted from him, but nothing came to mind, there was a complete void in his brain.

God.

"Come in." He heard his own uncertain voice, and after a moment the door opened and there she stood.

She came in smiling and cheerful, happy for some reason, closing the door behind her, looking around his room as if she had come at his invitation, wearing a large long-sleeved sweatshirt with the university logo reaching halfway down her thighs, long light wool socks and trainers on her legs.

He wanted to say something, to ask why he owed this visit and what she wanted from him, but all he did was stare at her legs, at the small patch of her exposed naked body between her sweatshirt and the material of her socks. He felt a strong pulsing in his black sweatpants and swallowed loudly knowing what it meant.

Fuck.

He'd only fucked twice in his life, and they'd been fairly inept acts of physical intimacy between a man and a woman, where they'd pursued their fulfilment on him, not caring much about him, maybe even imagining he was someone else, some more handsome boy who just happened not to want to look at them.

It didn't bother him, because he didn't feel anything for them himself, they didn't even arouse his desire, but they were just very horny, and he decided that he didn't want to remain a virgin for the rest of his life.

It had been more of a relaxing than a pleasurable experience and he didn't understand why men were so overpowered by it, but now, looking at her, he felt his brain and his logic start to give up in favour of what was going on in his trousers.

"You didn't go to the party?" Her light, gentle voice snapped him out of his reverie, causing him to lift his eyes to her face, which, to his surprise, seemed very pretty up close, her eyes large and bright, framed by long lashes, her pink lips curved in a smile.

What made her so happy?

Why did she come to his room and ask such things?

"No. NFI." He replied dispassionately, lowering his gaze to her legs again, unable to contain himself, covering what was happening to him with a book. She blinked, furrowing her brow.

"What?" She asked with amusement and curiosity.

"Not Fucking Invited." He explained and she burst into soft laughter, he wasn't sure he'd ever heard anyone react like that to anything he'd said.

"Maybe it's better for you too. I went there for a while, but they act like pigs in a shed. A friend told me I could find you here so I thought I'd take the opportunity." She said calmly, walking over to his desk, leaning over his books. He wondered with a pounding heart how she had the confidence to just walk into a stranger's room and talk to him as if she had known him for years.

He chuckled and shook his head, running his hand over his face in an attempt to hide his nervousness and what his imagination was suggesting.

"Are you going to tell me why you came here, or are you going to continue wasting my time?" He muttered ironically, figuring that by doing so he would somehow discourage her or force her to stop pestering him.

He blinked and lifted his knees higher when she suddenly sat down next to him on his bed, as if just waiting for that question, excitement in her eyes.

"I've heard you're a mathematical genius and that's a very good thing, because I need someone to help me determine the right proportions for my painting."

She said quickly and he felt his heart beat harder, he got warm in his lower abdomen and all he could think about was wanting to back off and run away.

"Isn't the golden ratio and Fibonacci spiral enough for you?" He muttered, knowing that it was these two proportions that were usually enough for artists to create their compositions. She hit her knees with her palms as if he had said exactly what she assumed.

"No! I want to analyse it more, but I don't have the tools to do it. Nor an exact mind. I want you to help me, take a look at my sketch and tell me what you think could be improved. From a mathematical, compositional point of view." She said with an excitement that frightened him in a way, a gush of enthusiasm that he didn't know what to do, how to discourage her with.

"What's in it for me?" He asked, recognising that perhaps a materialistic approach would discourage her, yet she merely twisted in her seat, completely unmoved, apparently recognising that he was entitled to demand payment for his contribution to her work.

"And what would you like?" She asked lightly, and he swallowed loudly, his gaze involuntarily escaping to her thighs, to where he could see her bare skin.

He looked at her face again, hoping she hadn't seen it, but something in her gaze told him she had noticed it, her lips tightened. He felt his heart pounding like crazy, he felt like he was just going through some kind of heart attack.

"Do you want this?" She asked softly, warmly, and he threw her a shocked look, wondering if she was implying what he was thinking, his gaze escaping to her thighs again.

Fuck.

Did he want this?

"What do you mean?" He asked coolly, trying to pretend he didn't know what she was talking about. He felt his pupils dilate as she corrected herself in her seat so that her sweatshirt lifted up slightly, he had a feeling that a millimetre would have been enough for him to see her underwear.

"You can touch me if you want. Just gently. Don't throw yourself at me." She said softly, a blush on her cheeks, her eyes warm and understanding, he even thought she seemed slightly embarrassed, her words sounding innocent despite the obvious subtext.

He wanted to tell her that she thought too highly of herself if she thought he was so desperate, but instead he just looked at her with his lips slightly parted, fighting with himself.

He wasn't sure if his mind controlled the movement of his hand, the way it involuntarily rose and gently touched her thigh, stroking it in a slow, steady up and down motion. He heard her sigh softly and a shudder went through her, saw her lean back and close her eyes.

He couldn't focus on anything other than the thought of how soft and firm her skin was, he wasn't sure he had ever touched anything more pleasurable. He felt both shame and thrill at the thought of how painfully hard he was, tightening his lips and swallowing with difficulty.

He glanced at her face again when, after a moment, she opened her eyes and looked at him with a warm, misty gaze, as if she had drifted away with her thoughts somewhere for a moment. She smiled, but there was no mockery in it, her expression had something of girlish innocence.

He didn't quite understand what was just happening between them. His mind wanted to classify this as a prelude to physical intimacy, but he wasn't sure he was right. He felt immense tension and lust, but also a sort of tightening in his pit, intrigue and anxious anticipation.

"If you want, we can kiss. You have such full lips." She said softly with some kind of admiration and sincere desire, from which he felt a tightening in his throat.

He wasn't good at choosing his words when it came to this kind of discussion, and he didn't know completely how to act, so he just stared at her, her thigh under his hand seeming to almost burn him.

Seeing the lack of any reaction from him and the clear shock painted on his face she moved a little closer to him, there was something encouraging in her movement and gaze, some kind of comfort and concern.

She was close, but far enough away to still not invade his space, giving him the sense that she was waiting for his decision.

He stared at her, feeling that his cock hidden in his trousers was about to explode, all swollen and throbbing and after a moment their lips pressed against each other in a sudden, wet dance of tongues and teeth, their hands clenched in each other's hair, the loud, lewd click of their saliva echoing in his ears louder than the muffled music coming from several rooms away.

"Be gentle." She just whispered into his mouth between their drawn-out, sticky kisses, and he hummed at her words, smelling the pleasant scent of her shampoo in his nose.

He grabbed her softly around her waist and seated her on his thighs with his arm around her, throwing his book to the side, rubbing against her from underneath, letting her feel what she had done to him.

He heard her sigh in contentment at feeling how hard he was, both of them beginning to pant loudly as she began to massage him with the motions of her hips, herself clearly taking pleasure from it.

He clamped his hands on her buttocks and drew in the air loudly feeling that she had no shorts on underneath, just her underwear alone, and for some reason it turned him on even more.

Had she planned this all along?

She moaned feeling his hands slip under the material of her panties and squeeze her bare skin with confidence, she ran her fingers through his hair as the tip of her pink, wet tongue ran over his upper lip. He felt a strong shiver run through his entire body and involuntarily began to pant along with her, having never experienced anything like this before.

Her touch, though filled with desire, was not cold and crude, focused only on her pleasure, her hands stroking his hair, his cheeks, his neck with tender, caring movements, her firm, full lips merely teasing him, not wanting to give him any more full kisses, so he only growled, frustrated, pulling her forcibly tighter, sliding his tongue deep into her throat.

He didn't even feel the need to undress her, the very thing they were doing now, the senselessness and yet purposefulness of it made him shiver, her certainty of what she wanted.

Was she really going to do this?

Sleep with a total stranger?

What was the logic in this?

He shuddered at the thought that maybe there was none.

None.

She wouldn't let him think about it, he drew in the air loudly as he felt her nimble fingers untie his sweatpants, slipping them down slightly, exposing what was underneath them, he felt his hard, throbbing manhood being enveloped by the cool air.

He saw her rise slightly, with a movement of her hand apparently pushing the material of her underwear aside, positioning herself above him as he grasped his length in his hand, automatically directing it between her thighs.

"− I'm taking pills − I'm clean −" She whispered softly and he just nodded, not knowing what more he could answer, looking at her with his lips slightly parted, feeling like his heart was about to jump out of his chest.

They both moaned embarrassingly loudly and squeezed their eyelids shut as she lowered herself onto him, slowly pushing him deep into her body. He could feel how wet she was, how her fleshy muscles pulsed hungrily against him, how tightly they wrapped around him on all sides miraculously enhancing his sensation.

She lifted herself up with a loud click of her moisture only to fall back down, riding him in a slow unhurried rhythm, and he just leaned down and sank his face into the hollow of her neck, taking in her scent, pleasantly sweet and fresh, panting loudly.

She embraced him, stroking his hair, clearly sensing his uncertainty, terror and desire mixed together. Unwittingly, his hips began to respond to her movements with sure, deep thrusts, to which she moaned loudly, something of helplessness and delight in her sounds.

"− do you want to stop? −" She mumbled softly, kissing his hair with gentle, warm click. He lifted his face finding her lips in a greedy kiss before turning her onto her back, recognising that he couldn't take it any longer, that his cock was about to explode.

"− yeah − I want to stop very, very much −" He growled frustrated at the way she was teasing him, resting one hand on the backrest of the bed in front of him, the other holding her hip tightly, sliding into her with rapid, quick thrusts from which she began to moan and pant loudly, startled, looking up at him with her lips slightly parted.

"− don't you feel it? −" He asked ironically, thrusting his cock so deep into her that he felt like he would pierce her stomach, her body arched backwards as if trying to escape from him, he felt his thighs all sticky from her juices, their bodies smacked against each other quickly with a loud, wet slap.

"− please −" She mewled and he felt a shudder as well as heat in his lower abdomen, something in the way she said it, in the tone of her voice, in her gaze made him lick his lips feeling that just a moment more, a few more thrusts and he was about to come.

"− please, what? − can't you put a fucking sentence together anymore? − you like it when someone fucks you so rough that you don't have words, huh? −" He hissed and groaned low as he felt her walls clench tightly around him at his words, her thighs spread wide in front of him, allowing him to slide into her as deeply as he wanted in a gesture of total submission.

"− I'm sorry −" She mumbled, looking at him helplessly like a rebuked child looking at a parent, and he thought he could devour her whole right now, fuck her all night if she wanted to, if she would react the way she did now.

"− good you're sorry − fucking brat −" He growled, panting loudly along with her and suddenly, without even knowing why, he kissed her greedily, impaling his cock into her with quick, brutal thrusts.

He felt her come, her walls began to clench on him greedily, not wanting to let him go, her whole body was trembling, she tried to push him away, sobbing and moaning with pleasure into his mouth.

He fucked her through her orgasm until he finally gave in and cum inside her, panting loudly, not recognising himself, his sounds or his reactions.

"− oh God − fuck − fuck − fuck −" He mumbled clenching his eyes, coming down from his peak, still moving inside her, hearing her loud breathing underneath him.

What exactly was that?

He collapsed on top of her, completely powerless, smelling the scent of her hair, her hands embracing his waist. They laid like that in the light of his bedside lamp, breathing heavily, listening to the muffled music, the screams and laughter from the party taking place a few rooms away.

He swallowed loudly feeling that he wasn't sure where his body ended and hers began, they were both all sticky from her moisture, her insides hot, pleasantly enveloping him on all sides, giving him some strange sense of security.

He thought it was for some of the hormones that are released after orgasm designed to bring partners closer together and bond.

He shuddered when he suddenly heard her soft, quiet voice.

"So what do you say? Will you help me?" She asked shyly, quietly, and he sighed heavily, silent for a long moment.

No.

"Yes."

_____

Part 2 − Formula for perfection

@at-a-rax-ia @daemonskelitsos @alphard-hydraes-blog @travelingmypassion

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ch3rry-wink · 5 months

Text

Michael Stone (AU)

Pairing: pornstar!Miguel x f!reader

Summary: Someone reveals Miguel's secret to you.

CW: +18, angst, annoying reader

Author's Note: "Happy New Year! I decided to start the year by writing smut with some suffering. I'm not good at content warnings."

The first time you met Miguel, he told you he was an actor, but not what kind. You were excited until a particular friend interrupted your happiness, mocking you when you showed a picture of you two. He simply sent a name, and you searched it online.

Michael Stone was his stage name, and his videos seemed quite popular; a doctor, a plumber, or just him in an amateur-looking video had hundreds of thousands of views. You began to question how you hadn't noticed this.

At one point, everything started to crumble within you. You became angry for going to that café and meeting him. You grew jealous because he looked at and kissed you the same way he did in the video with another girl, implying you weren't special. You became suspicious because he only gave you half-truths.

You started to ignore his calls, messages, and avoided him at all costs, even stopping going to your favorite places. It had been relatively easy (painful, but easy) for you to distance yourself from Miguel. However, for him, it was the other side of the coin. Due to work-related issues, relationships weren't easy, and when you disappeared, he knew something was wrong. Knowing you wouldn't do that because you were someone who tended to talk too much, he decided to go find you and ask for an explanation.

Miguel stood at your apartment door, repeatedly asking you to come out, but you didn't want to face him.

"What did I do wrong?" His feigned ignorance irritated you, and after being holed up in your apartment, you came out.

"I don't know what you did wrong, Michael Stone," you said sarcastically, showing him his profile on the adult website.

"Now you know?!" His expression changed to pure concern. "I swear I was going to tell you," a sense of shame appeared on his face.

"When?" Miguel went blank. You wanted an answer, and he didn't want to give it, thinking you wouldn't find out. He was afraid the relationship would end with the girl enduring for a few weeks and then leaving. "Didn't you think someone would recognize you?"

Your neighbors started peeking out of their doors and stopping in the hallway. Although you were upset, you decided it was better to continue the discussion inside your home than for everyone to hear your problems.

"Give me one reason not to tell me the truth." Miguel's thoughts were so scattered he couldn't find the right words. "You thought I was an ignorant hillbilly you could take advantage of."

"You were different, had that look in your eyes that made me believe i wasn't just a piece of meat." He approached, and you stepped back.

"No, if I had known what you were, I wouldn't have even looked at you."

You still didn't know if you were upset because he had lied to you or because you genuinely didn't consider him a decent man. However, Miguel had been a better man than the others who had invited you out when you arrived in the city, wanting to live the fantasy of the farmer's daughter.

"Tell me it's not true." Your words hurt more than all those failed relationships.

He approached you, lifted your chin to make you look at him, and immediately knew you weren't sincere. Still, you didn't want to admit it. He gently touched your lips with his fingers and planted a kiss on your forehead as a farewell. Your heart sank; you grabbed his arm and didn't let him leave through the door.

"I care about you a lot, but it hurts that you lied."

"You would have stayed if I had told you the truth." You didn't respond. "I knew it."

"Let's be honest, the girls who were before me also ran away."

"They didn't want Miguel O'Hara; they wanted Michael Stone, the version of me on screen." Tears welled up in his eyes. "But you want my real version, and that gave me hope."

"You're right; I like Miguel, but I don't want to think that accepting him means having Michael." Laughter echoed in your head from your friend mocking you.

"You have Miguel." You didn't want to continue this conversation.

"I want you to go, don't come back, don't call me, don't look for me.”

"Could you give me one last kiss" he begged, you agreed. Miguel was such a good kisser, you hated to admit it but he made you so horny, you didn't want to stop him.

A kiss turned into a long kissing session and that led to your hips ending up on the edge of the couch, your feet on Miguel's shoulders and his face between your legs, he drags his tongue through your folds and you in response tangle his hair between your fingers to keep it there.

Everything about this situation was obscene Miguel holds you by the hips, his jaw is constantly moving, you can see the sheen of your fluids on his face and his eyes are still fixed on you.

You can hear your heart beating, your breath hitching and feel the heat emanating from your body.

Miguel continues with his face submerged in you, his nose rubs your clitoris while his tongue has sunk inside you, this unleashes an overwhelming sensation that clouds your senses and puts a pause to everything, it's just you screaming and full of spasms of pleasure.

He adjusts your legs so that they are open on the edge of the chair and returns to licking your clitoris, this time his fingers begin to move near your entrance and from one second to the next his middle finger is inside you, you have tears in your eyes of pure pleasure and he continues with his work.

A new finger is inside you, he feels you squeeze around him and suddenly you see him smiling with satisfaction, you start to feel the same as you did a while ago, however he stops and you see him trying to settle in for what is coming now.

"Holy God" the position you had been in had not allowed you to see Miguel in his entirety and you almost choked from the shock, he was huge.

He is still on his knees but now higher, he pulls you towards him and rubs the head of his cock against your folds, he positions himself at your entrance and introduces his member slowly and surely, it feels amazing there is no space inside you that is left uncovered and at some point he bumps into something that stops him from moving forward.

Your eyes roll back in your head, he takes a while to start moving, however when he does he sets a relentless pace, his hips collide with yours and his fingers play with your clit, he bends down awkwardly and gives you a kiss that is interrupted by a moan from you.

Miguel knows exactly the right spot to hit, again your body starts to spasm and you know you have finally come, he slowly withdraws from inside you and a moment later you can feel something warm falling on your abdomen.

You question the weirdness of the situation, the set is decorated like a classroom, a voluptuous girl wearing lingerie that imitates a school uniform greets you cheerfully, the director tells her where she should be, she obeys and then Miguel enters the set wearing a white towel attached to his waist, he approaches you to kiss you, when the kiss ends you give him a smile that would only be described as uncomfortable.

"3, 2, 1 action" Miguel kisses the girl in the same way he kisses you, she goes down to give him head and you know you won't resist the situation a moment longer, you discreetly open the door and leave the set. You had put yourself in this situation by insisting over and over again to try to get to know his world.

"Curiosity killed the cat" you said to yourself.

It was time to say goodbye even though you liked Miguel you knew you could not live with his profession.

#miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x you #across the spiderverse #spiderman

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assortedseaglass · 3 months

Text

Talk Refined - Chapter Two

Michael Gavey x Reader

[Masterlist]

Summary: When Michael Gavey unwittingly insults a fellow Oxford student, they enter into a game of intellectual cat and mouse.

Content Warnings (this chapter in bold): Language, Smut, Saltburn Spoilers

Esme did not let you live your encounter with Michael Gavey down.

“You should have heard her. Like she was interviewing all over again!” At any given opportunity, she took the chance to tell the story of how her best friend had shot down the genius from Brasenose.

“Esme, everyone’s heard this story a hundred times,” you’d said when she once again brought the matter up at the pub. “And anyway, he didn’t even reply when I shouted at him. Just said he needed a piss.” People at the table tittered. Michael’s reputation as a genius made had its way around the university’s colleges. Mainly because he was the one telling them.

It was a fact begrudgingly agreed upon at each recounting of the tale. Esme would tell her college mates, or new friends at the pub, the story of you and Michael getting into a fight, and inevitably they would say “The self-proclaimed genius?”

“The maths nerd?”

“That dickhead?”

Before resigning to the fact that, despite his arrogance, Michael Gavey really was a genius.

“Didn’t you hear him shouting at dining hall first night?”

“Heard he got 100% on the maths admissions test!”

“Pretty funny really. If he wasn’t such a twat I’d invite him out, he’s great entertainment.”

Luckily for you, the spectre of his reputation loomed larger than the man himself who, since your encounter at the pub, you had not seen. Perhaps he was too embarrassed after his very public rejection. More likely, it was because you were preparing for your extended essay deadline. Burrowed in your room at the desk, or else tucked in a dark corner of the library, Esme almost had to drag you to leave your room these days.

“Should have done something on Gentileschi,” you muttered into the open book on the library table. Your endless studying on the use of women as decoration that formed the basis of your essay was slowly crushing you. “Wanted to do a feminist essay but this is fucking depressing.”

Esme shifted in her seat next to you, leant over your book to look at the pictures on the open page, then pushed it from your view. Before you could protest, she spoke.

“One minute not looking at that dull picture,” she gestured to the image of Turner’s Reclining Nude on a Bed, “-isn’t gonna hurt you. But I’ll tell you what won’t be depressing. My end of year party!” Esme grabbed your shoulders and shook you.

You laughed, stifling it behind your hand when a few pug-nosed students frowned at you.

“I thought you’d settled for a cheese and wine night? ‘Sophisticated with a chance of minor sluttiness’,” you quoted her and she winked.

“Yeah, well, it’ll still be a cheese and wine night,” she opened another textbook and riffled through the pages absent-mindedly. “With slightly more wine than cheese-”

“And about sixty people.”

“Only after the meal! Had to take the chance and get in there before Catton. No-one’d come otherwise.” Esme’s face dropped, a flash of worry crossing her bonny face at the prospect of competing with Felix Catton for the Party of the Year.

“It’ll be grand,” you grabbed her hand reassuringly. “Who wants Catton’s friends there anyway? Load of stuck-up snobs-”

“You sound like Gavey!”

You shot an irritated look at Esme. She grinned back and busied herself with the work in front of her. You looked at the title scribbled across the top of the page. “Semper femina: misogyny’s early beginnings.”. You really picked a corker when you saw her at the humanities social. You nudged her shoulder affectionately, rubbing off her last comment and, still a little distracted, look around the library.

Not all libraries in Oxford had vaulted ceilings of ancient oak, or were decorated with elaborately carved roses. Some had harsh fluorescent lighting and tiled navy carpets. It just so happened that you and Esme preferred the grander of buildings. So too, did most other students. When dedication and inspiration waned, the quickest way to feel inspired was to pop to the libraries with ancient tomes alongside the course textbooks, sharing silent exchanges with other students gazing in awe at the latticed windows and rows of paper possibility.

“By the way,” Esme whispered, not due to the setting but what she was about to say next. “Who are you bringing?”

Your eyes didn’t flicker from the book in front of you. “Bringing where?”

“To the cheese and wine party,”

You looked at her, a mixture of exasperation and amusement on your face. “Since when did I have to bring someone?”

“Well,” Esme fully turned in her seat to look at you. “You don’t, but I’m bringing Eleanor-”

“Pretty girl from the pub.”

Esme nodded and continued counting people on her fingers. “Laura’s boyfriend is visiting that weekend, Holly’s bringing some rugby lad, Joe’s best mate is coming and the other three all have boyfriends. Bit sad if you’re the loner.”

“How can I be a loner at a party?”

“You know what I mean! Come on, it’s the end of the year, loosen up a bit. Doesn’t have to be a bloke, just pick someone!”

You thought a moment. Though you hated to admit it, Michael Gavey had been right; a lot of the people on your History of Art course were public school wankers and horsey girls fast-tracked to jobs in their parents’ cosmopolitan art galleries.

Nope. No-one there you could bring, and all of Esme’s friends were already going.

“I don’t know!” You despaired, slumping back in your seat comically in mock defeat.

Esme laughed. “Tell you what, next person that comes round that corner,” she pointed to the last bookshelf of a long row, right by the library entrance. “You’ve got to take. Deal?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ll buy your cheese and wine for the night.”

You stared at her. Trinity term was almost up, and so too was your scholarship loan. “Fine.”

Esme laughed excitedly and stared excitedly at the shelves. You did so with apprehension. A minute passed and no-one rounded the corner. A group of gorgeous boys left the library, but not one person entered.

“Looks like you’ll be coming alone after all.” You pinched Esme’s side and she giggled. “Aha!” She pointed behind you and your stomach dropped. Turning slowly, you faced your fate. Date.

A wizened old man no taller that the fourth shelf shuffled along the wooden floor, his worn leather shoes squeaking with every step. There were more lines on his face than the tube map.

“No.”

“Don’t be a bitch!”

“People don’t want their fucking lecturers there, Esme.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “But it has to be the next person or my share of the food is on you.”

“Fine.”

You both stared at the bookshelf. The wizened old man shuffled past you, and soon the sound of his leather shoes faded. You glanced over your shoulder at Esme. “This is stupid-”

“Oh. My. God.” Esme was looking past you, and what had momentarily been shock was turning to unbridled glee.

“What?” You span in your chair. “No. Absolutely not.” Panic prickled the hairs of your neck. You whipped back to face Esme. She was laughing. “I can’t. Fuck. No!”

“This is brilliant,” Esme clapped her hands together. Some students shushed her and she sent them a two fingered salute. “He’s coming this way! Go on, ask him!”

You took a deep breath and, with growing unease, turned to face your unknowing date.

Michael Gavey was walking stiffly along the rows of bookshelves. The muscles of his jaw were set in a tight line; he wasn’t here to browse; he knew what he wanted and was making his determined way towards it. You watched him carefully, waiting until the perfect moment to speak. How the hell were you going to ask?

“Let’s wait a minute-” Esme made to cut you off but you continued quickly. “Just to see where he goes. I don’t want to ask in front of everyone.”

Esme huffed but nodded, and you both went back to watching him.

“This feels creepy,” you said, watching as he got closer.

“All we’re doing is looking at him.” Esme said matter of factly. But that wasn’t quite true. It felt altogether more like you were studying him. Something about Michael Gavey meant you couldn’t look away.

Just as when you last saw him, his clothes looked second hand. Or like something an aunt would by. A crisp, short-sleeved shirt, starchly ironed, tucked into a pair of beige cargo trousers. Vile. Around his belt swung a number of carabiners, one containing his keys, another a collection of USB sticks. They jangled as he walked past.

You ducked your head to avoid being seen. Esme scoffed. You kicked her under the table.

The two of you watched his retreating back. You noticed you weren’t the only ones looking at him. A few other students, some boys smirking and some girls, were watching him to. None indicated that they knew him personally, for none sent him a smile or a wave. They simply watched as he passed. His reputation really did precede him.

You tried to think on what it was that made Michael Gavey so hard to ignore. He had done nothing today but enter the library and, by now, everyone knew him to be a stuck-up knobhead. So what was it that was making everyone stare?

Perhaps it was the rigidity with which he walked, so upright and solid. For one so thin, you imagined that if someone bumped into him now he would just continue walking as though nothing happened. Maybe it was the unnerving way in which his grey eyes stared. You remembered them from before. How he analysed people, unblinking, as he spoke to them, dissecting every minutia of their movement behind his glasses.

Could it be, that underneath the dreadful clothes and frankly alarming attitude, he was quite handsome? You blushed at the thought and turned away from Esme.

In another life, with better clothes, better glasses, a kinder face, he might have been attractive. Afterall, his hair was that Gisele Bündchen colour girls in your sixth form tried unsuccessfully to get from the bottle. His face was all angles, like the bassist in some boy band. Not front man handsome, but with a little something that appealed to the weird girls. And he was tall. God, was he tall. Not Felix Catton tall, but after him he’d been the tallest at the pub. You remembered the way he’s unfurled his body uncomfortably from the chair. Even now, he was almost half the height of some of the old bookshelves. When he came to a stop, depositing his Tesco carrier bag on the table with a rustle, his shoulder bumped into one of the shelves, and you noticed how broad they were, accentuated by the black leather belt holding up his trousers. Who’d have thought it? Michael Gavey vaguely good-looking. Shame he was a prick.

“There you go,” Esme whispered in your ear as Michael disappeared between two shelves. “Perfect chance.”

Your mouth went dry. You’d momentarily forgotten the reason you were both watching Michael. Sensing your apprehension, Esme turned you by the shoulder and looked you deep in the eye. “It’s fine, I’ll help.” She was loving this, and the two of you spent the next five minutes working out how to approach the Bastard from Brasenose.

You tried to get rid of Esme as quietly as possible.

“Just let me do it on my own!” you hissed.

“I don’t trust you, not after last time!” She was pushing you towards the bookshelf Michael was browsing. You were digging your feet in.

“Please, just let me-”

“No,” Esme giggled, pushing you closer to the shelves. “You’ll either have an argument or not ask at all. I want to see this.”

Your hand gripped the wooden bookcase just as you arrived and blocked her from going any further. She pushed against you, trying to force you towards Michael.

“I’ll do it, Esme, just give me a second!”

“Just get on with it, for God’s sake!” she whispered with a shove.

“Ouch! You’re hurting me!”

“Can I help you?”

You both jolted. Michael was staring at you, his hands balled into fists at his side. He looked…nervous. Esme had clearly pushed you closer to him than you’d thought.

“No, er, sorry,” you took a step backwards only to be blocked by Esme.

“Oh,” Michael relaxed a little, a tight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “It’s you.”

You stared at him. “You don’t need to sound so offended by my presence.”

“You’re the one stumbling around the library hissing like a banshee.”

You were about to retort when Esme caught your arm warningly. You looked back at her with annoyance. She simply nodded at you and gestured to take a deep breath.

“Sorry, Michael,” you said. He flinched a little as you said his name, not that you noticed. Esme did. “Erm,”

“She has something she wants to ask you, Michael.”

“Ask me?”

Fucking hell, here goes. You tired to smile at him. He stared back blankly. Why did he make everything so bloody difficult?

“Yeah, um,” you stepped forward and leant against the bookshelf for support, to make it seem less formal. “Well, Esme is having an end of year party-”

“A dinner party,” Esme cut in.

“-and we wondered.”

“She wondered!”

“We wondered,” you said louder, drowning out your friend. “If you’d like to come? Maybe?”

Michael stared at you. His head jerked almost imperceptibly, as if it had suddenly fallen out with his neck, and he scoffed quietly. “Is this a joke?”

“What?” You and Esme said together.

“Are you taking the piss?”

“What? No-”

Michael placed the book he was reading back on the shelf and faced you both fully. “Get out of the way please, you’re blocking the exit.”

“Michael,” he stopped again when you said his name.

“Honestly, we’re not taking the piss.” Esme said kindly.

“We saw you come in, and Esme keeps reminding me what a bitch I was at the pub.” Never mind the fact that you were an absolute arsehole. “And we just thought, as a way to apologise, you might like to come to the party? Fresh start?”

“I don’t do parties.”

“It’s-a-cheese-and-wine-night-actually.” Esme said quickly.

“Right,” he continued staring at you. The longer he did it, the more you regretted asking. Fucking blink. He glanced quickly back at the shelves of books, and screwed his eyes tightly shut, as if working out something impossibly difficult. When he opened his eyes again, you weren’t sure whether he was going to scream or cry.

Then you realised he wasn’t looking at you. He was looking past you. With surprising force and speed, Michael pushed past the both of you.

“Oliver Quick.”

Esme looked at you with excitement. Without a word, you both hurried to the end of the bookcase. There he was. Oliver Quick, caught in a staring contest with Michael Gavey. Oliver glanced quickly at the two of you, eagerly poking your heads around the shelf to get the gossip.

Michael hadn’t noticed. “You look different.”

“Do I?” Oliver sounded bored and you wanted to smack him. What was it with the boys at Oxford? He turned away from you all, but Michael wasn’t done with him.

“He’ll get bored of you.” A pang of pity twisted your stomach. Esme had been right. Oliver’s abandonment at the pub had hurt Michael more than he let on.

Oliver stopped and turned around. “Excuse me?”

You glanced at Michael, waiting for his retaliation with bated breath. He said nothing.

“G’wan, Mikey,” Esme whispered.

Oliver walked away, but not before Michael could twist the dagger. “Bootlicker.” He enunciated every delicious, vicious syllable.

Oliver looked back again, only to cast an uncomfortable look at Michael and see Esme swearing at him behind Michael’s back. “For that Michael,” she clapped her hands. “You can be guest of honour!”

Notes: Short one this time but I’m getting back into writing by doing shorter chapters. SO excited to write the party.

Tags: @lexwolfhale* @theoneeyedprince @lovebittenbyevans @fan-goddess @ellrond @very-straight-blog @arcielee @tsujifreya @liv-cole @myfandomprompts @annoyingkittydetective* @elizarbell @solisarium @thekinslayersswordhand @nightdiamond8663* @slowlysparklyninja* @kate-to-the-ki @bellaisasleep @xxxkat3xxx @lacebvnny @moonriseoverkyoto @ewanmitchellcrumbs @moonlightfoxx @pendragora @aemonds-holy-milk @st-eve-barnes @sapphire-writes @babyblue711 @targaryenrealnessdarling @slytherincursebreaker @bottlesandbarricades @valeskafics @anjelicawrites @exitpursuedbyavulcan @barbieaemond @chattylurker @itbmojojoejo @humanpurposes @cyeco13 @heimtathurs @in-a-mountain-pool @aemondsfavouritebastard @marysucks-blog @rheaxes @xivilivix

*could not tag

#ewan mitchell #michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #ewan mitchell x reader #saltburn #oliver quick #michael gavey x oc #assortedseaglass

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etherealising · 2 months

Note

idk how request, I hope you understand ^^

could you do one about michael and baby having their cute moments but carmy misunderstanding everything?

english is not my first language, sorry 😭😭

in the arms of another

a/n: bestie i promise your english is just fine please don’t apologize. also i’m sending you all the internet kisses for this request because i’ve missed writing baby x mikey content so much!!! maybe not as cute as you may have wanted but i still hope you enjoy! 🫶🏽

wc: 4.3k (what can i say, i missed them)

You lost Carmy in the crowd mere moments after collecting your diploma, part of you couldn’t seem to care considering how rocky things became between the two of you but you were also a bit overwhelmed with the amount of your classmates who kept stopping to share in the success that was graduating high school.

Most of the people you stopped to take pictures with had rarely ever spoken to you during the 4 years you shared, considering the occasion you hadn’t minded the first couple of pictures you stopped for, but now you were ready to find your mom and the Berzattos and leave.

It was a few moments more before you heard the familiar drawl of Richie’s voice, he was always loud and you never appreciated that more than in this moment. You spun around a few times to try and spot him, finding the whole group of people standing a few ways off, Carmy had better luck than you did seeing as he was already standing there getting congratulations from every which way.

Smiling you began making your way through the other families apologizing along the way as accidentally bumped into people. Mikey was the first person to spot your approach, his eyes finding yours over Carmy’s head as he spoke to him. The wide smile took over your face instantaneously his own seeming to match yours, you picked up the pace trying to reach him as soon as possible.

Your hand raised in an excited wave, Mikey’s returning wave caused Carmy to turn as well a small smile growing on his face the closer you got to them, his hand raising in a shy wave as you approached. You hadn’t given Carmy a second glance as you brushed past him to leap into Mikey’s awaiting arms.

Carmy tried not to let the hurt show on his face as you ignored his presence, Mikey spun you around in his arms the sounds of your melodic laugh mixed with Mikey’s rough one felt like the only thing he could hear. He did his best to keep the smile on his face, ignoring the apologetic look Nat sent his way by bending down to pick up your cap that fell to the ground from all the excitement.

He hated to admit it but he understood the cold shoulder you were adamant on giving him. After that day at The Beef things were never the same, upon returning to Claire he’d tried his best to shut down whatever was transpiring between them but couldn’t allow himself to break two hearts in one day. And while he was doing his best to spare Claire’s feelings all it did was push you into the arms of his brother.

The more you distanced yourself from Carmy, the more time you spent with Mikey. Carmy tried to convince himself there was nothing untoward going on between the two of you but between the quiet laughter and the shared jokes he was beginning to feel paranoid. And now he stood there like a loser watching his best friend, the only person he ever wanted to share his joy with again, cling to his older brother like a lifeline.

You squealed as Mikey roughly set you back on the ground, hands falling to his biceps as you smiled at him. “Don’t tell me you shaved for a little graduation ceremony.” One of your hands settling against the slight stubble on his cheek.

Mikey’s response was mute to your ears as rough hands gripped your head, the smell of Richie’s cologne invaded your senses as he began plastering chaste kisses all over your face, one hand removing its grip as he raised a disposable camera to snap a picture of the two of you,

The sound of Nat’s annoyed sigh reached your ears as she shoved her way between you and Richie a look of disgust on her face at Richie’s overdramatic display of affection. “You grew up so fast Baby,” Her arms pulled you into a gentle hug against her chest the two of you rocking back and forth in each other’s arms before she pulled back the proud smile on her face telling you all you needed to know. “We need pictures though.” She gave a soft pat to your backside as you walked away to find your mom and aunt.

You gathered with your small family for pictures, wiping your mom's tears of joy as the three of you posed together. You did your best to hold your tears at bay, thankful your mom was still around to enjoy this moment with you. You felt a bit resigned as your aunt stepped out of frame after a few shots, watching silently as she motioned good-naturedly for Carmen to take her place.

Things between the two of you were the weirdest they’d ever been, with the whole prom debacle a few weeks ago you made it your mission to be alone with him as little as possible. He stepped towards you eyes everywhere but your face, the tension between the two of you was obvious but thankfully everyone ignored it in the same way you did.

It was hard to feel any resentment towards him as he tentatively reached up, his hands delicately fixing your dropped cap atop your head. You sent him a small smile before turning to face the camera, a genuine smile coming to your face.

Rounds of photos later, each with a different participant and you were almost begging to leave, but the sound of Donna’s voice rang through your ears. “Just Bear and Baby now! Our two high-school graduates where’d the fucking time go.”

You couldn’t say no to Donna, and even if you did it's not like you had a believable reason as to why you didn’t want to be pictured alone with Carmy. The two of you got in position next to each other, neither of you moving to bridge the space between the two of you, both deciding to don awkward poses holding up your diplomas.

“Oh c’mon act like you love each other!” The words were mumbled through a cigarette but you knew Donna expected more from the two of you.

A reluctant sigh left you as you stepped closer to Carmy arm brushing his. You looked in his direction for a moment rolling your eyes at the blush on his cheeks. You reached out forcefully handing him your diploma as you fixed his uneven stole. You locked eyes, your heart speeding up just by staring at him, of course, you were still hurt by his actions but you couldn’t deny the soft spot you’d always have for him.

The urge to caress his cheek surged through you, but instead, you carefully took your diploma from his grip. Your hand fell to wrap around his as a small sincere smile rose to your lips, “I’m proud of you Carm.” The words were softly spoken between the two of you, you sent him one last smile before turning back for the last few pictures.

The backyard of the Berzatto family household was overrun with disposable cups and plates scattered around the various folding tables. A surprise graduation party for you and Carmy took place there after the ceremony, though most everybody had cleared out by now the backyard relatively empty.

You stumbled your way to the backyard after seeing Hayden off, soft giggles escaping you every few minutes or so. You’d spent the party socializing mostly with The Beef family and friends, a few of Carmy’s family members, and neighbors who’d joined the celebration, Claire and Hayden joined the party after some time with their own families. The night was mostly spent explaining your plans for college a hundred times over to all the curious adults who’d offered various forms of unsolicited advice.

Richie had been your saving grace though as he’d offered you drinks sporadically throughout the night he reasons that you deserved to celebrate. He’d cut you off before things got too far lecturing you about how Mikey and your mom would kill him if he got you drunk. So you spent the remainder of your night slightly tipsy enjoying yourself more than you probably would have.

The poisonous liquid even opened you up to spending time around Carmy. You knew he’d had a drink of his own but you weren’t sure if he continued like you had. But what sent you over the edge was the joint Hayden brought that the two of you snuck away to smoke. You’d had your fair share of drinks but you’d never been high before, and while all it seemed to do at first was make you a giggly mess, you found that you now had trouble getting your limbs to work properly.

You made your way safely to the backyard by placing your hand on the gate and following its path, eyes glued to the dirt beneath your sandals incessant giggles leaving you. The path illuminated as you stepped through the garden gate. You spotted Mikey and Richie moving around the backyard trash bags in hand as they cleaned up.

“You guysss.” Even to your ears, your voice didn’t sound like your own, your words drawn out the tone more high pitched.

More giggles escaped you as you began trying to skip over to the older men, whatever control over your equilibrium completely gone as your legs gave out knees connecting with the dirt, hands doing little to stop your fall as your body met the ground.

You didn’t even bother lifting yourself, instead rolling over as full belly laughs wracked your body, the lack of oxygen to your brain extending your high. You could feel someone tugging at your arms trying to pull you off the ground, laughs worsening tenfold as you felt like a rag doll gravity keeping your dead weight on the ground as hands fought to pull you up.

“Hey c’mon get up.” At the sound of Mikey’s voice, you let out an excited squeal finally helping him.

Mikey stumbled as you energetically rose arms tightly wrapping around his neck, head leaning into his chest as you divulged into another spell of giggles. You allowed him to gently remove your arms from around his neck taking a step back to check you a whispered curse leaving him as he motioned for Richie.

You tuned their voices out hands moving to try and play with Mikey’s hair, the inky tendrils were mesmerizing under the fairy lights, and you pouted as Mikey kept dodging your assault.

“Why the fuck do you smell like weed?” Mikey’s question stole your attention, your eyes darting between him and Richie a sly smile gracing your face as you raised your index finger to your lips in a shushing motion before you began to lose your balance once more but the firm almost harsh grip on your bicep steadied you. “Are you fucking high right now? Was it that fuckin’ loser who’s always on your ass?”

You scoffed at Mikey a sneer taking over your features, “Are you?” The backyard was silent, Richie stood watching the scene play out uncomfortably before your laughter started up once again. You weren’t privy to the hurt that flashed across Mikey’s face before he led you to sit down, kneeling in front of you to check out your scrapped-up knees. You watched on in silence gently swaying back and forth as you hummed.

Carmy walked into the kitchen to find Richie rummaging around as he quietly cursed to himself, the sound of Carmy’s footsteps alerted him to his presence, “Yo where the fuck is the first aid kit?” The anger in Richie’s voice confused Carmy as he shrugged deciding to help him look.

“Dunno, what’d ya need it for?” Carmy couldn’t pretend to know how Donna organized everything in the house, the only thing he had free reign over was his bedroom.

Richie slammed a cabinet in frustration, “Baby’s fucking high, probably drunk too. I don’t know why she hangs around that stupid fucking kid he’s bad news.”

Carmy frowned, he remembered watching you wander off somewhere with Hayden but he couldn’t remember you coming back and maybe he got you high, but Richie was the one who allowed you to drink in the first place so the blame was equally his. “Is she okay, why do we need the first-aid kit? And why the fuck did you even let her drink in the first place.” Carmy’s head swam with negative thoughts.

Richie stopped his search hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose the last thing he needed was Carmy and his fucking teenage angst being misguided towards him. Richie knew he shouldn’t have allowed you to drink as much as you did, but he didn’t see a problem with it considering it was supervised, how the fuck was he supposed to know you’d run off and get high. Before Richie could give the youngest Berzatto a piece of his mind his phone began to ring, the chime he designated for Tiff rang through his ears. He let out a quiet sigh as he dug his phone out of his pocket.

“Find the fuckin’ first aid kit and take it outside to Mikey.” Carmy’s eyes followed the direction Richie pointed his hand in before walking off. Eyes landing on you and Mikey, the older man settled in front of you on bended knee hand carefully massaging into your calf as he looked over your knee, your head raised to the night sky a smile of bliss on your lips.

You gazed up at the sky wondering what it must feel like to be a star, a feeling of contentment washing over you the longer you stared up at them. After a while, your head lulled to the side before your eyes found Mikey body still kneeling in the dirt before you.

“Mikey,” you waited as he let out a soft hum, his fingers carefully digging the pebble out of the skin of your knee. “Will you dance with me?”

Mikey let out a sigh, his earlier annoyance washed away the longer he realized you were safe, that even though you were crossfaded you still had the mind to return to him. He rose, knees thankful to be out of the kneeling position as he held his hand out to you to indulge your desire.

You stood on shaky legs allowing the older man to guide you to the center of the backyard, the only thing you could do in your inebriated state was sway back and forth, the weightlessness of your body forcing Mikey to guide the both of you. All was quiet, your cheek found purchase on Mikey’s chest at some point, and the sound of his heartbeat lulled you into a sense of calmness.

The night air was warm as the two of you swayed for what felt like an eternity, your hands moved from their place around Mikey’s waist to tightly wrap around his neck, eyes finding his. “Why doesn’t Carmy love me the way I love him?”

Mikey frowned unsure of what to say, you still looked gone out of your mind. A smile still playing on your lips, but the question you asked him was the direct opposite of every feeling present on your face. “Baby,” a tired sigh left him. “You’re kids, you’ve got your whole life to figure this shit out.”

You laughed, nothing Mikey said was funny you just couldn’t stop the urge to laugh at every little thing. Your fingers began unconsciously playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, for as long as you’d known Mikey you hadn’t realized just how handsome he was. You knew he attracted plenty of people but you’d never given much thought to it until now, seeing his face glow under the fairy lights.

Mikey’s side profile lit up showing off his chiseled jaw, his eyes roaming the back door trying to figure out what the fuck was taking Richie so long to find the first-aid kit.

After minutes of searching, Carmy finally decided to grab the first-aid kit from the guest bathroom before returning to the kitchen. He stopped in his tracks just as he made it to the back door fingers tightly gripping the plastic in his hand as he watched you and Mikey in the center of the backyard, eyes wide heart beating rapidly in his chest.

Carmy’s eyes moved from Mikey’s hands on your waist, to your hands wrapped around his neck fingers in his freshly trimmed hair before his eyes landed on the way your lips seemed to find solace against the oldest Berzatto’s.

He couldn’t stand to look at the two of you any longer, his feet leading him back into the kitchen carelessly dropping the first-aid kit to the counter as his hands gripped the marble. His mind raced with all the ways he might have imagined what he had just seen. He did his best to ignore the sound of Richie’s voice as he finally returned, his grating Chicago accent asking about the stupid fucking first-aid kit before snatching it off the counter himself and moving to exit the house.

“Oh…shit.” Carmy had never thought in all his years of knowing Richie that the man was capable of whispering, but as he stood there trying to convince himself he’d made the whole scene up he knew it was null and void from Richie’s reaction alone.

Carmy moved back into the shadow of the kitchen as the back door opened, your quiet giggles filtering through his ears as you entered the house, a soft ‘goodnight Richie’ followed as you walked past him to head wherever you were going. Carmy watched you make your way to the stairs, his hands shaking as he tried to get a hold of his anger, the sight of you tripping up the stairs a catalyst for the damn that held his emotions back.

Without a second thought, he pushed past Richie making his way outside to find Mikey sitting down, head in his hands. “You robbing the fucking cradle now huh?” He ignored Richie’s plea to calm down not even wanting to be around either of these two fucking losers.

Mikey raised his head exhaustion clear on his face, “Go to bed Carmy.” His tone was dismissive as he stood from his position to continue his cleaning.

The casual way Mikey ignored him pissed Carmy off even more, “Why the fuck would you kiss her Mikey? What the fuck is your problem man!”

Carmy did his best to shrug off Richie’s touch as the man tried and failed to lead the riled-up teenager back inside, sure this was all some big misunderstanding. “I don’t have time for this, just get the fuck outta here.” Carmy could hear the growing frustration in his brother’s voice but the anger surging through him was fighting any logic his brain was pushing forth.

“You’re a piece of fucking shit Mikey, what the fuck you say to her huh? Sh-she wouldn’t just fucking kiss you, Mikey. Don’t pretend you fucking deserve her…I-I see the way you look at her don’t fucking lie to me.”

Carmy’s words had their intended effect whichever ones he wasn’t sure but he’d struck a cord in Mikey, that much was evident in the way he threw an empty beer bottle to the ground the loud shattering echoing through the quiet neighborhood. “And you do Carm?” A sardonic laugh left the vicious sneer on Mikey’s lips, “Give her a couple years Carm, who knows maybe she’ll decide I’m the better brother.”

Mikey knew the words were wrong the second they left his mouth and he didn’t need to hear Richie’s admonishing call of his name to realize it. Mikey didn’t see you as anything more than a little sister and he made sure you knew that as he gently pushed you away from him, breaking the kiss you initiated as soon as it started, he couldn’t be sure your inebriated mind understood at the moment, but he needed to make the boundaries between the two of you clear. Talking about you in the way he just did made him feel like the piece of shit Carmy was making him out to be, he was old enough to know not to disrespect you in the way he just did, but his younger brother's misdirected anger was the last thing he needed to hear, so Mikey hit him where it hurt a low moment of his he was sure to regret.

It all happened so fast the way Carmy took several quick steps forward, fist swinging out just as Richie wrapped his arms around him stopping his momentum before his fist could connect with Mikey’s face. Carmy struggled against Richie for a few moments before slumping against him defeat clear on his face. He shoved Richie away from him as he let him go, angry eyes blazing through Mikey’s figure.

“Fuck you, Mikey,” The quiet angry quip was punctuated by the glob of spit flying out of Carmy’s mouth and landing by Mikey’s shoe.

The last thing Carmy wanted to see as he stormed into his room was your figure in the middle of his floor, sundress pushed far too high up your legs displaying your panties as you sorted through the first-aid supplies scattered around you that you’d most likely found in his bathroom.

You looked like a fucking idiot sitting there focusing way too hard trying to read the ointment you’d picked up. Carmy’s irritated huff reached your ears a wide grin gracing your lips as you looked up to see him standing in the doorway. He rolled his eyes slamming the door behind him as he made his way fully into the room.

The loud noise had you stifling your giggles, “Someone’s mad.” The words were drawn out in a sing-song voice.

Carmy was doing his damndest to not blow up on you as he made his way to his dresser before pulling out a pair of your sweats you kept over for emergencies. He pulled the sweats out balling them up in his hand before harshly slamming the drawer and turning around and tossing them at your head, the bundle of cotton hitting you in the face and sending you into a fit of hysterics.

“Fucking cover yourself up.” The harsh tone of his voice caused you to roll your eyes quiet giggles still slipping past your lips as you reached for the sweats before putting on a deep voice and mocking him.

You stood up struggling to step into your sweats without losing your balance. You’d thought you had it this time but you were mistaken as the feeling of being on one leg sent you toppling over onto Carmy’s bed.

Carmy’s anger ebbed away into annoyance at the state you were in as he moved to help you stand before leading you to sit on his bed eyes dropping to your scraped-up knees only to realize that you’d done fuck all to clean them.

He ignored you as he gathered the necessary supplies and began to work on the scrapes on your right knee, doing his best to finish quickly so the both of you could get some sleep and pretend this night never happened.

“Carmy, you’re still my best friend…right?” You still sounded out of it as you asked the question, Carmy was resigned to ignoring you but then your soft voice began whispering his name incessantly.

“Sure Baby.” The irritation was obvious in his voice, and even more obvious in the way he harshly rubbed the alcohol pad against your wound, the movement causing you to wince. “Sorry.”

You sat still for a moment before your hands made their way to his grown-out hair, fingers wrapping around the curls that began to form at the ends. “I have a secret to tell you but you have to promise you won’t get mad.”

He gave a noncommittal hum hoping to finish patching you up before you spoke another word. The silence in the room gave Carmy hope that you’d fallen asleep but he was sorely mistaken as your quiet voice reached his ears. “I kissed Mikey. But…he didn’t like it.”

Carmy was surprised to hear the words leave your mouth, sure that the drugs and alcohol in your system would lead you to crack some stupid joke. He let go of your leg before leaning back on his haunches his eyebrows furrowed at your admission. “Why?” If this was true, if you kissed Mikey of your own volition he needed to understand why. And it also meant he probably owed his older brother some form of an apology.

He watched as your shoulders moved up and down in a lazy shrug that goofy smile still pulling at your lips, but the sheen in your eyes contradicted it, “I wanted to forget about you.” Your voice was hoarse with emotion as you answered hands moving from the curls of Carmy’s hair to gently grip his face in your scratched-up hands.

The two of you stared at each other, minutes ticking by as you drank each other in, Carmy’s confusion only growing as you began to giggle again, the noise juxtaposed by the new tears streaming down your cheeks.

“But I think I’ll remember you forever.”

a/n: please don’t take this as your sign to get experimental with drugs and alcohol, in no way am i endorsing that any of you go out and do this. please remember you are responsible for your own media consumption!!!

my first edible made me think i was the yellow power ranger, so please if you do, use recreational drugs safely and correctly!!!

#etherealising’s 1k celebration #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy the bear x reader #carmy berzatto x you #the bear fic #the bear x reader #the bear x you #fem reader #all i ever knew only you ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊#[aiekoy] universe

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smallbutters · 5 months

Text

Sickly Bodies - Michael Myers x Reader

Content Warnings - Stalking , mentions of suicide, murder (duh), uuuh michael myers is a warning alone lol

Notes - Minors DNI PLEASE, fluff but also murder, SFW, no specific pronouns or gendered terms used :))

Eyes of the devil.

Black, soulless voids behind them, devoid of all humanity.

Ever since he was transferred to the Sanitarium, Michael has been referred to and treated as a being of pure evil - a blight upon this world. How would Dr. Loomis react now, to the situation Michael finds himself in?

A body lies in his house, in his bed, and for once it hasn’t gone cold, the heat of life still flowing through it.

You.

Sick as all hell, writhing in pain as whatever illness you have beats you into a pained, sluggish version of your normal self.

Michael stands aside the bed, making no movement.

He watches you, for a while - rolling back and forth occasionally, groaning in pain all the while.

When you finally become aware enough to notice that you aren't alone, you look up to his mask and give a meek smile. Michael isn't a comforting person, he never learned how to be or even received any himself, but something in you knows that this is his attempt at it.

"You don't have to stand here, you know."

You get no response.

A few seconds of silence pass as you close your eyes, letting out a slow, shallow breath.

"This will pass, it might take a bit longer since you don't have any medicine in the cabinets, but I'll be just fine soon enough..." You trail off.

You are once again met with silence.

It doesn't take too long for you to succumb to the exhaustion and fall asleep, your body being completely drained from fighting off this virus. You don't know how long Michael stayed there, or if he even was there after you finished talking - for such a big body, he's incredibly quiet.

Unbeknownst to you, he stayed, unmoving, for a good half an hour after you drifted off.

He was planning on going out tonight - a frat house down the street has been too rowdy lately, and losing a few members would likely get them to quiet down (you had been bothered by the noise lately, but that isn’t why he’s going for them) But leaving you here alone, sick and in pain seemed to hurt his cold heart.

Why?

If you posed an obstacle for him and his goals, he really should just kill you. You two have been together for a few months now, in a sort of problem-and-problem-enabler type situation - you provided him a place to stay at your half-used apartment, food, and company (an attempt at it, at least), and Michael provided with a sense of safety as your behind-the-scenes guard dog, and an odd sense of pride knowing you’ve, to an extent, tamed the beast terrorizing Haddonfield.

Michael isn’t stupid, not in a general sense. While he had been in a mental institution for the past fifteen-odd years, he's killed dozens of people by now and never got even remotely close to being caught. He’s just a little socially confused. He’s been treated like the devil itself for the past 15 years of his life, so your kindness, let alone your peaceful coexistence with him is somewhat lost to him. Even the night you met had been something he’d never thought he’d let happen.

You had been taking pictures of the old Myers house a few months back, just after sunset. There was enough light for you to see, but with every photo you took that was getting more and more difficult. You had walked here by yourself, which you quickly began to regret - you could hear quiet(ish) shuffling coming from the side of the house, and it definitely wasn’t getting further away. You obviously knew of Michael, everyone did - but August was much earlier than he’d ever returned, and you knew some local teens had taken up pretending to be him just to get a scare out of people. At first you thought you’d just get a little spooked and laughed at, then be able to head home safely, but apparently impersonating a killer doesn’t sit well with said killer.

The two impostors were killed with ease and a lack of ceremony, and you were quickly thrown into the house. You thought the last thing you’d ever see would be that infamous pale white mask looking into your eyes, but it wasn’t. You saw the eyes behind it - the man, the human. In complete honesty, neither of you knew why what happened next turned out the way it did. One moment you were pinned against the wall by the real Michael, the blood from the two imposters staining both your clothes. Then all he did was let out a loud huff before stalking away. The man who never left someone alive let you, of all people, live.

In the coming months you began to spot him near your apartment and - seemingly - following you around town. You were smart enough not to tell anyone, as you knew he’d disappear before anyone else could spot him and you’d wake up to a pool of your own blood and live out your last moments from a betrayal-fueled, merciless kill. From then on you had learned to interpret his non-verbality, which lead to an eventual fucked-up kind of kinship. You never tried to get him to stop what he does - to “fix” him. He appreciated that. With time he began to enjoy, even desire your company, and even went as far as allowing you to see who he was under the mask.

Getting to the location was easy enough - it was dark as all hell outside in the early December nights, and no one wanted to leave the safety and comfort of their homes. Especially since the small town had just been visited by the infamous boogeyman. Except, seemingly, the exact house he had his sights on. Perhaps it was just a lapse in judgement by a house full of drunk, intelligence-deprived party goers, but perhaps they thought one escaped asylum serial killer wouldn’t be able to survive against all of them. Either way, they left the side door unlocked. Entering the house, Michael quietly stalked around the trash strewn about - it seemed like a party had just concluded, which meant it was very likely that everyone in the house was dead asleep from over drinking. Easy targets.

It didn’t take long for Michael to be almost completely alone in the frat house. His ability to quietly stalk through it was really put to the test however, as the house was absolutely filthy. He could smell, even through his mask, the stink of cheap alcohol, smoke, and something that he’d be alright with never fully identifying. The ground was almost completely littered in something that looked like discarded clothes, with various kinds of large stains just about everywhere - for once maybe he’d actually be the good guy by killing whoever made this mess.

Finding said filth was pretty easy, people were asleep on the floor, on couches, piled together on beds. He saw two bodies sharing a bed, one draping an arm over the other, their hand being held by the other. He thought of you - your warmth finally allowing him to get some real rest at night. How you were never scared of his large hands, never seeming to care about the blood that can’t be washed from them. How you also seemed to sleep better in his presence, sometimes waiting up for him to even get to bed.

You better not be doing that now.

That room took him a bit longer to get through.

The last room was on the eastern side of the building, the master bedroom. Only a few people were in this room, two piled on the bed and one asleep face-down on the floor, lying in a pool of… something. Michael had gotten rid of two of them before he noticed how the only window of this room was perfectly facing your old apartment. You had been splitting time between there and the old Myers house ever since that night, but the knowledge that anyone in this house could have seen you through that window made his blood boil. He can’t stop you from interacting with people; he had enough common sense to know that you had to work and get money to sustain yourself and get whatever you thought Michael needed as well, and that a good person like you needed more than just a serial killer for company (much to his dismay). However, he absolutely could stop people from going to you first. As he stood over the last soon-to-be-corpse, panting from the adrenaline, he came up with a plan.

Michael had always made his kills swift and brutal, leaving no room for anyone to think it wasn’t his work. But tonight, he changed it up a bit. He woke the last victim up, quickly grabbing him from behind.

“Wha…what?”

The poor boy was barely conscious as Michael put the knife into the other’s hand, using his own to guide him to slit his own throat. Of course, there was a slight struggle, but having a hangover and fighting against a killing machine worked against the last man’s favor, and the knife glided across the skin, breaking through with a steady trickle of blood. He fell to the floor in a position of apparent suicide, and Michael then got to work. He wanted it to seem that this poor boy had lost his mind and killed every member of the afterparty he had hosted himself, all because of an obsession with the person across the street - you. Michael staged the scene by changing the boy into his overalls (plenty of stupid people had been impersonating Michael, no one would think it was actually his.) On a piece of paper, he wrote down your typical schedule for any given week - no, he did not memorize it, and he certainly didn’t repeat it to himself like a mantra when he needed to focus. Don’t be stupid. To anyone who’d see the scene, it would look like an obsessed maniac realized you were out of his grasp, lost his mind, killed all his friends and then himself. The police would likely put together that you were his target, and they would likely question you, but Michael knew you wouldn’t say anything. If anything, you’d probably assume they meant him, and would be absolutely shocked when it would be revealed to be someone else. Maybe you’d put together that it was all an elaborate ruse from Michael.

Maybe you’d thank him.

Michael stole a change of clothes and left, leaving the knife as proof of the crime clearly not committed by him, a small bottle of cold medicine he found on the nightstand rattling in the pocket of his pants.

As he expected, the house was quiet when he returned. Well maybe not expected, but that’s what he wanted to greet him. He hated when you stayed up for him, as if you were an old married couple (deception and avoidance was his game, it was only a matter of him before he fell victim to it himself). You were his captive, and would likely end up being his victim too (deception). There was no love in his heart, in this home, anywhere close to him. He’s a killer, and only a killer (avoidance).

So why do his hands twitch when he thinks of you? Why does his body move on its own, craving your warmth and touch?

You were still asleep when he got to the bedroom, breathing shallow. He set the medicine bottle on the nightstand closest to you, going into the bathroom to make sure he was free from any blood before he joined you bedside. The dip in the mattress woke you up enough for you to open your eyes to see a bottle of cold medicine left for you (don’t mind the dark red smear on the label).

“Thinking of me even during a bloodbath?”

You sat up and took two of the small pills, washing them down with the glass of water you had gotten earlier in the night. When you laid back down, you were pulled into the grasp of your oh-so-thoughtful killer. You felt his face nuzzle into your hair with an uncanny tenderness- wait. His face? Like, the actual one?

“Your mask- where is it?”

He opted to not respond, instead pulling you further into his chest. You quietly hummed, too tired to press it any further. You reached back and grabbed his hand and pulled it close, right on top of your heart.

He huffed in response.

#michael myers #slasher x reader #halloween #original writing #slasher community #michael myers x reader

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winedarkthoughts · 13 days

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house of addams (2)

— 🌖 pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

— 🕷️ genre: mystery, angst + fluff + smut

— 🗝️ word count: 3.3k

— 🍄 summary: you and yoongi tackle your first day of fieldwork, and this town and it's mysteries prove to be stranger than they first appeared.

— ☕ content warnings: private investigator!reader and botanist!yoongi being nerds, mentions of death/missing persons, scientific inaccuracies lol

— 🕸️ a/n: and the mystery continues!

previous chapter ← series m.list → next chapter

chpt. 2: but first, fieldwork

september 22, 2004

You've been having strange dreams. Normally, you don't remember most of your dreams, but these have been oddly vivid and long-lasting, like the lingering stench of a cigarette that sticks to your clothes.

In some, you're wandering through a forest, wading through a thick mist. No, not wandering, because it feels like you're searching for something, you just don't know what.

In others, you're submerged in murky green water. Tendrils of seagrass like twisting trees brush against your ankles. And there's a sound reverberating through the water, something like chittering and groaning at the same time.

When you wake up, the window above your bed is open, though you don't remember unlatching it last night. Just outside the glass is a canopy of green, bright and vigorous from the early dew.

You pull the window shut and dismiss the dreams completely from your mind, because you have things to do. Today is your first day of fieldwork with Yoongi, the botanist.

Yoongi is punctual, which you very much like. He arrives at the meeting spot three minutes early. Luckily, you were there ten minutes early.

"G'morning," he mumbles, his voice still raspy with sleep. His hair is ruffled and his eyes are slightly droopy. He's wearing dark jeans and a flannel, but appears comfortable in the frigid air.

"Morning, thanks for coming," you say, handing him the iced americano and glazed bun you just picked up from the coffee shop.

Cat's Den, it's called. The same barista from your previous visit was working, and he seemed just as cheerful.

"Thank you," Yoongi says with new life in his voice, gratefully sipping from his drink.

You inform him that your first stop will be the residence of Mrs. Bradley. You want him to see the strange fungus in person to get the most accurate identification.

The two of you pile into your Honda CRX. It's a beater car, with scratches on the exterior and ripped seats. You've had it ever since you were a teenager, but the engine has held up throughout the years.

When you ask Yoongi if he's heard of the death of Michael Bradley, he just scrunches his brows.

"I think it was in the paper once," he says. "Something about household cleaners and chemicals. The mayor kept it buttoned up, apparently."

Again, the mention of the mayor. She kept the case under wraps, but clearly she trusts Yoongi to know about it since she recommended him to you.

"Hmm, well Mrs. Bradley won't submit to questioning so far," you say, rattling with the car as it traverses over a ridge in the dirt road.

"So far?" Yoongi prompts, and you can hear the slight amusement in his tone.

The corner of your mouth tugs up in a barely concealed smirk. "I can be very persistent," you add.

You stop the car a block away from their house. Yoongi follows you dutifully when you exit wordlessly and make you way onto their lawn. The ring of mushrooms is still there. In fact, it appears to have gotten wider.

You drop to one knee and begin taking pictures.

"Won't Mrs. Bradley get upset?" Yoongi asks, looking into the dark windows of the house.

"She leaves for work at five a.m." you reply. "We'll be finished long before she gets back."

He doesn't reply, because the mushrooms have snagged almost every ounce of his attention.

"Very peculiar," he mutters to himself.

"Can you identify them?" you ask, trying not to divulge how much you're waiting on his reply.

Yoongi pulls a retractable magnifying glass from his pocket and flips it open, dropping to the damp earth beside you.

"Infundibuliform cap shape," he says, more to himself than to you. But from what you've gathered from the book, it means a "deeply depressed" cap shape. In this case, it makes the cap look like a set of tendrils. Reaching out.

Yoongi takes out a pair of tweezers and turns the mushroom this way and that, examining it.

Something catches your eye.

"Pores and gills?" you say. Typically mushrooms have one or the other, but this one has a membrane covered in small holes as well as an underside full of thin openings.

"False gills, ridges," Yoongi supplements, deep in concentration. "Gills can be detached, but ridges are built into the structure."

"Is that common among mushrooms?" you ask.

"Hmm, not entirely sure. Not a mycologist," he replies, snipping off one of the mushrooms and dropping it into a specimen bag.

A part of you lights up inside. It looks like he's going to help you with this whole thing, judging by his interest in the strange fungi.

You're greatly appreciative, because reading that book on mushrooms was not exactly the most effortless research endeavor. It was plenty interesting, but still chock full of scientific terminology that you aren't familiar with.

"I have a friend back at the university who can take a closer look at this," Yoongi says, rising to a stand.

A flutter in your stomach. This is coming along nicely. The more professional opinions you can get, the better.

"Take a look at this," you say, leading him to the rotted tree trunk.

You watch as his delicate features twist, perplexed. He really is very pretty, but you shouldn't be thinking such things.

"Is this common among trees?" you ask a little hesitantly. It's such a shame to break his concentration when he looks like that.

"Not that I know of," he mutters, taking a tentative step closer.

You did a bit of research on tree rot, but nothing you saw looked quite like this. Wood, even rotted wood, has a splintered appearance. This wood looks almost wet, maybe even flesh-like. It looks, and smells, like an infected wound.

You take plenty of pictures.

"Can I get a copy of those?" Yoongi asks, looking at you with wide, eager eyes. A cat that's caught sight of a treat.

"Yes, of course," you reply with only the slightest bit of difficulty.

"Thank you." He flashes you a gummy smile. Fuck.

"Okay," you blurt out suddenly, pretending to check your watch. "Let's get moving."

Your next location is the sight of Jarvis Laplan's death.

The forest, you've learned thanks to Yoongi's kind direction, has been unofficially divided into sections by the surrounding civilians. There's the "North Star" area, mostly made up of sparse trees and grasses. This is where most of the residential homes are backdropped against, including Bradley's.

Then "Gunman's," an area southwest of North Star. Aptly named, this is the designated hunting grounds, clearly labeled and fenced. A few residences outline Gunman's, including Laplan's. But Laplan wasn't found in Gunman's, he was found in Ulthar's Grove.

"Ulthar's Grove," south of Gunman's and absolutely NOT a hunting area. Apparently, local stray cats and other rodents flock to this area, roaming about freely and building nests in hollow tree stumps. Children and teenagers can sometimes be found playing in this area, because of the several residences tucked into its borders and the relative safety compared to other areas of the forest.

Then, at the center of it all, Lurking Lake. Aptly named, it is not well-inhabited and generally avoided by locals. A naturally formed lake, it is infested with algae, an invasive species of eel-like fish, and characterized by a distinctive musky smell.

You and Yoongi enter into Ulthar's Grove, weaving through gnarled trees and mossy stones.

As if he can't help it, Yoongi points out the names of the local flora as you pass them. The scientific names and the common names, seemingly for your benefit. It's quite amusing, watching his face light up when he recognizes a familiar species.

And you learn a lot, taking as many notes as you can on the local wildlife while navigating the path.

You don't notice, but Yoongi is sneaking glances at you while you scribble feverishly.

"Are my ramblings really that interesting?" he prods playfully.

Your attention is jerked from the page. You glance at him over your shoulder, feeling a burn in your cheeks.

"I try to remember everything I learn," you say, and your voice betrays none of the slight embarrassment you feel at being observed in your "natural habitat." Because you've always been very intent, maybe even obsessed, with collecting knowledge. You suppose that's one of the things that makes you good at your job.

As if he can sense your thoughts, Yoongi says, "So, you're a journalist?"

You never told him exactly what your occupation was, only that the mayor sent you. You hesitate for a moment. For some reason, you have no desire to lie to him.

"Private investigator," you reply.

He hums in acknowledgement. He doesn't ask who you were hired by, but the subtext is clear enough. The mayor recommended him to you for a reason, after all.

The two of you arrive at the site. No longer is it wrapped in police tape, but the same eerie air of caution still lingers.

Aged thirty-five, he was found in the woods. More specifically, in a little clearing among the closely-knit trees, in the center of a ring of dead grass.

Apparently, Laplan was dissatisfied with the control of local wildlife, and took it upon himself to do a bit of "population control." He was found in hunting gear with a .35 Remington, without a single shot fired.

Yoongi says that very little information was in the papers, similar to Bradley. Just a warning to civilians regarding a recent animal attack.

"He wasn't attacked, he was mauled," you can't help but say as you examine the site. The mayor gave you snippets of the police reports, but you still have yet to get your hands on the coroner's report.

"By what?" Yoongi asks, a strange hesitation in his voice.

You look at him.

"Not sure" you reply, turning your attention to the surroundings at hand.

Laplan was found here, among this break in the trees. The ring of dead grass remains, and half of you expects to see a pool of blood in the center of it. But there is nothing but brittle vegetation.

"What kind of animal?" Yoongi asks as he circles around the perimeter.

"A mountain lion, presumably." But for some reason, a reason that you can't name, you doubt it.

A wave of uneasiness ripples through you.

"Let's fan out a bit, try to see if any of the trees around here have the same rot," you call out, eager for a distraction.

The two of you explore the area for a while, noting irregularities in the plant life. Evidently, thanks to Yoongi's commentary, you discover that the surrounding plants appear to be dehydrated, despite the abundant rain. Neither of you find any of the strange mushrooms in this part of the woods.

Yoongi checks his watch at noon on the dot.

"We should get moving. You said there's one more site you wanted to visit, right?"

He's right, the site of Sharon Mason, the final and most recently deceased. You remember now that Yoongi said he had to leave at two p.m., though he didn't mention why.

Lurking Lake, and the surrounding woods which apparently don't have a name, according to Yoongi. They are simply known as "the woods surrounding Lurking Lake."

And you must say, the name lives up to its potential. First of all, it's bigger than you thought it would be. It has a presence, the beating heart of the forest.

Under the gray sky, the water is dark green with a peculiar, abysmal deepness. The perimeter of the lake is outlined by wild grass and moss-robed stones, and the outer edges of the water have a film of algae.

Fog hangs over the landscape like a misty curtain, swirling along the ground.

"She was found by the lake, right?" Yoongi asks, examining some sort of cattail grass by the lakeshore.

"In the lake," you correct, bending over to look closer at the pebbled shore.

"Barely anything in the papers again," Yoongi says before you get the chance to ask. "Mainly because they don't know all that much."

"Hmm," you reply, staring at some sort of microscopic, squirming plankton in the shallow lake water.

Sharon Mason, aged seventeen. Found floating in the lake. Homicide ruled out, apparently.

The third death in under three months, and it certainly left a mark on the community, especially since she was only a teenager. You wonder if this was the catalyst that drove the mayor to hire a private investigator.

"Has the college noticed anything unusual about the lake? In the ecosystem, I mean," you ask.

"Not that I know of," Yoongi immediately responds. A little too quickly.

You straighten up and watch as he paces around the edge of the water, hands in his pockets.

"Nothing?" you ask again, a little more pointed this time. Because you hardly believe that nothing has surfaced at the university. Why else would the mayor include investigative services in "ecological disturbances" in her job description?

"No, ma'am," Yoongi replies, and the politeness in his voice is incriminating.

You'll have to look into it.

"Well, I won't know the finer details until I get the coroner's report," you say.

Yoongi looks up at you.

"The coroner?" he asks, curiosity and something else in his tone.

"Yes, I'll need to speak to him eventually. Do you happen to know where his office is? I've been having trouble getting him on the phone," you say.

You're watching closely for his reply, and you see his eyes flicker to something in the distance.

Following his gaze, you see it. The massive house on the hill, dark and towering over the valley. Through the mist, it looks like an abandoned Victorian mansion.

"The Addams House," Yoongi says from behind you.

"Addams? Is that who lives there?" you ask with your eyes still fixed on the house, like a beacon that you can't look away from.

"Used to, they're long gone now," Yoongi replies. "The new owner rents it out now,"

"And who would that be?" you press.

Yoongi just shrugs.

"The only people who know for sure are the tenants themselves. Apparently, he's a bit of a recluse."

Hmm, interesting.

"And...that's where the coroner's office is?" you ask, a little incredulous.

He nods a little hesitantly.

"Mm hmm, it's in the basement."

"Ah, of course it is," you can't help but reply, and it makes Yoongi smile a bit.

There's a pause as the two of you poke around.

"So, what exactly are you looking for?" Yoongi asks.

That makes you stop and think for a moment, because you're not entirely sure what it is you're looking for here. At Bradley's place, it was the mushrooms. Laplan's place of death, any indication of unusual wildlife or animal activity. Here at the lake, you don't even have a cause of death.

"I'm not entirely sure," you admit, again not finding it in you to lie to him. "I'll have a much better idea when I get the coroner's report."

Something you said seems to remind him, prompting him to check his watch.

"I have to go now," he says, quickly gathering his things.

"Alright, I'll give you a ride back," you offer. Not that you would ever admit it, but you're not quite ready to part from him yet.

"No, no, that's alright," he blurts out, already making his way towards the outline of trees. "It's a short walk," he insists.

"From here?" you question, but by the time you turn around, all you can see is his dark hair and slight frame darting expertly between the trees.

Your shoulders deflate as you let the rest of your sentence die with a puff of breath. A strange man, no doubt. But then again, that's how you like them.

Later that day, you venture to the coffee shop to do some more research, but the establishment is closed. The man mentioned something about only being closed on Wednesday afternoons.

The bookstore on the other side of the alley is closed too, none of the warm light from last time leaking from the front window.

You use your entire living room floor as your cork board and red thread, scattering open books and papers like a difficult-to-navigate parchment sea.

And you sail that sea until three a.m.

Five missing. The first is Alissa Ward, aged thirty-two, last seen at a grocery store at 5:32 p.m. She returned home at 5:47, according to her home security system, and then randomly left through the back door at 2:42 a.m. She lived alone, and it took a while for authorities to report her missing.

Then, Brynn Synder, aged twenty-nine, last seen at her boyfriend's place the night before her disappearance. Apparently, she had a habit of running through the woods in the early morning, and she was reported missing when she failed to show up at brunch with friends the next morning.

The police searched the woods. They found nothing.

You fall asleep on the couch as you're nearing the end of her file, dreaming of feet pounding on dirt.

september 23, 2004.

The coroner proves to be even more elusive than you thought. He appears to be averse to his faxing machine, and downright allergic to his telephone.

By midmorning, you're trudging up through the damp earth to the house on the hill. The closer you get, the more massive it appears. Ancient brickwork, towers and iron spires, neatly clipped hedges flush to the sides of house, and crowned by spindly trees overhead.

There's a tall iron gate encompassing the entire property, spiraling with twisting designs. You try it, but it appears to be sealed even though you don't see a lock of any kind.

You still rattle it a few times for good measure, causing the metal to creak and screech as if it were alive, and very displeased at the rough treatment.

A moment later, a figure emerges from the fog. A man, it looks like, wearing a large coat. As he approaches, you notice the floppy black hair hanging in front of his face.

"Hello, I'm sorry to bother you," you call out when he's close enough to hear you. Really, you're not sorry, since you've been trying to get a hold of the coroner for several days now, with not so much as a return message.

The man is young, with a strong jaw and handsome features. But his skin, it's somehow completely colorless. You can't quite explain it, but it looks like ice, translucent yet cloudy at the same time. And what's weirder is the way your eyes can't quite stay focused on it. It makes your head throb if you stare at the same place for too long.

"I need to speak to the coroner," you say, putting authority in your voice. If you want to get anywhere with this case, you'll need the causes of death.

"He...He isn't here right now," the man says, sounding a little nervous. Now that you're closer, you can see his bunny-like front teeth biting at his strangely colorless lips.

"When will he be back?" you reply.

The man's head is downturned, eyes flickering over the ground.

"I'm not sure. He's spread quite thin, you see," he says.

You raise an eyebrow, unsatisfied.

"W-Well there aren't many forensic pathologists in this area, so he has to service the next three towns. And he always takes Wednesdays off for personal reasons, so he hasn't been in yet and-"

"Alright, kid," you interrupt his rambling, since he only appears to be getting more nervous by the second.

"Just have him call me as soon as possible, okay?" You hand him a card with your information scratched onto it, and he reaches through the gate's bars to take it between his extremely cold fingers.

"Yes ma'am," he says obediently, scurrying back up the hill and disappearing behind a hedge wall.

Strange young man, you think. But, as you're starting to realize, that is the norm in this town.

"She saw through my glamour," Jungkook announces to the room. And everyone freezes, stealing little glances at each other.

"I told you, she's perceptive," Yoongi says from his place on the chaise lounge.

"Curious too, she came into the bookshop looking for something on strange fungi," Namjoon supplies.

"And spent the entire night in the cafe reading," Jin adds.

"She won't stop calling my office. I'm not sure what I'm going to tell her," Taehyung admits.

"She's just doing her job," Jimin counters.

"In any case," a stern voice interrupts, the only voice that hasn’t spoken so far.

“Keep an eye on her.”

a/n: thank you muchly for reading!! if you tell me your thoughts i might explode with joy

NEXT PART: 05/15/24 @8:00 a.m. PST

#bts ot7 #bts x fem!reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #ot7 x reader #bts mystery #bts series #bts angst #bts fanfiction

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starcrossedxwriter · 1 year

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Masterlist

Here is the master list for all my fics! The date at the bottom is the last time it was updated (I try to keep it as updated as possible)

Thank YOU for reading, liking, reblogging, and commenting! I appreciate and LOVE the reception and feedback and commentary more than you could ever know - it fuels me and keeps the inspiration flowing!

All stories have a face claim. However, with all my OCs, I encourage folks to see themselves in the story! Also I love angst BUT all my stories are happily ever afters so enjoy the emotional rollercoasters knowing everyone'll be ok lol Thank you again for reading! Love y'all!

MBJ Fics:

Built for Love Series - Michael B Jordan x Famous OC Reader Charlotte Elsbeth Jordan

Series Summary: Charlotte Bennett was not looking for love when she moved to LA and landed her first role in Creed. Quite the opposite actually. However, her costar, Michael B Jordan, makes her question everything she once believed possible for herself and her future. As she builds a life and relationship with him, ghosts from her past threaten to destroy it all.

Series Warnings: Violence, Mentions of past experiences with DV, Angst, Mature Sexual Content

** SMUT

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6**) (Interlude**) (7**) (8) (9) (10) (11**) (12)

One-shots:

Completely random one shots that follow Charlotte & MBJ as they navigate the world as Hollywood’s Black power couple. Whether it be stardom, their work, parenthood, or relationship drama, the Jordans are building a love that will last a lifetime.

Protective

Oscar Night Part 1** (Part 2**)

Bleeding Through (1)

Falling Apart (1) (2)

Date Night**

Asks:

Nicknames

GQ Couples Quiz

Wicked Fantasies - MBJ x Black OC

Moodboard: coming soon!

Series Summary: Raven’s life, as of late, was one unexpected turn after another. It seemed as though every time she got a break and could get her head above water, something came tumbling to knock her back down. As she struggles to get her foot in the door of LA’s call girl scene to make extra money, she stumbles upon her big break: Michael B. Jordan, Hollywood’s most famous, talented, and notorious actor, director, and playboy. One night of pleasure for him would solve many of her continuously mounting financial problems. However, an unlucky trip to the hospital and an ill-timed flash of a paparazzi’s camera snag her the proposition of a lifetime, one that would solve all her problems and allow her to live out her most wicked fantasies with the sexist man alive. However, she forgot one cardinal rule: fantasies and pretend never last and reality would always come around eventually.

Warnings: Mature sexual content (18+), HEAVY Dom/Sub storyline (the whole nine), this is for the kinky girlsssssss, angst

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7)

Asks:

Late Nights

MBJ Requests:

A Love That Never Fades (MBJ x OC)

Erik Killmonger Fics

Unbreakable - Erik Killmonger x Black OC

Moodboard: Coming soon!

Series Summary: Naja, the younger sister of the Queen of Wakanda, hated few things. And at the top of that shortlist: Prince N’Jadaka. Well, if she were honest, he was the entirety of the list. Once destined to be a princess of Wakanda, Naja was the picture of kindness and grace. Now, she is hailed as Wakanda’s most fearless, dangerous, and reclusive war dog. After more than a decade of putting as much distance as possible between her and the life she almost had, Naja is forced to come face to face with the person she hates most again. With a threat looming over Wakanda and lives at risk, Naja must decide if trusting Prince N'Jadaka is worth the risk before it is too late.

Warnings: Angst

(1**) (2)

Last Updated: October 20, 2023

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan fanfic #michael b jordan x oc #creed 3 #black panther #masterlist

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agendabymooner · 6 months

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dadventures with the schuminis: rock it, minnie! || ms47 scenario (1)

dad!mick schumacher (x ofc) centric

EXTENSION TO THE LITTLE SCHUMINIS

Summary: A series in which Mick Schumacher tackles the challenges and moments of being a father to his little carbon copies with his father Michael Schumacher (alongside his in-law Sebastian Vettel, who continues to deny that he was a grandfather while accepting his role as the Schumacher kids’ Opa).

Scenario summary: With Minna’s first birthday coming up, Mick struggles to find the perfect gift that she’ll learn to cherish forever. Thankfully, Michael still knows how to make Gina’s old rocking horse and Sebastian knew how to operate the electric sander. AND Michael and Sebastian are insufferable as in-laws.

Content warning: dad!Mick Schumacher, grandpa!Michael Schumacher and Sebastian Vettel being competitive as grandparents, Seb denying he’s a grandpa, terms of endearment, fluff, mentions of pregnancy, Mick making a dirty joke, brief German translations, mentions of grandma!OFC (Bel Vettel) spoiling Minna

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out!

Mick Schumacher knew that his off days were numbered. He hated that he had to count his days and immediately head back to the road and race.

But he did what he had to do for the sake of giving his daughter a better future— whether it had something to do with their financial situation (they were rich as hell) or her desire to follow Mick’s footsteps to become a racer (Mick was praying to god she didn’t want to be a racer), he persisted on staying and racing for the season for the sake of his family.

Regardless of his limited days off, he did what he could do and participated in the event planning for his firstborn's first birthday celebration. His wife, Barbie, insisted that she and Gina were handling it well, but he wanted to do something special alongside them.

And so Barbie and Gina assigned him to find his daughter a special gift for the celebration. “Something that would mean to her in the long run,” his sister said.

His face paled a little when she said that. It was so cryptic and vague. It was just vague.

He thought about the theme of the party at first. Minna Elisa’s first birthday party was running with the farm theme.

When it was first suggested by Gina, Mick almost snorted to ridicule the thought. “We already grew up around them,” he said, “I don’t think Minna would appreciate that. Why can’t it be just horses?”

Then Barbie and Mick’s mother Corinna agreed to Gina’s idea. After all, Minnie was already showing a great interest in animals! Specifically horses.

Horses.

RIGHT! Mick almost yelled and stood up, looking for his old photo albums. He skimmed through the pages and wondered what his and Gina’s rooms looked like before in Texas. The Schumacher siblings loved their home in Texas— especially their rooms. Mick’s room was converted to be Kimi and Stefan Vettel’s guest rooms but they remained with the same theme of western style and horses.

Then, just as he browsed through his pictures with Gina in her bedroom, his eyes immediately zeroed in on the pink and blue wooden rocking horse that his baby self sat on while Gina stood next to the boy.

He knew what he wanted to get his little girl now.

And so the first thing he did was phone his parents. He called Corinna’s phone, but it was Michael who had answered the call.

“Mick?”

“Oh, hey Dad, is mom there?” Mick nearly facepalmed. This was literally Corinna’s phone he had called.

“Am I that boring to you, Mickie?” Michael scoffed, making Mick roll his eyes. “I can hear your eyes rolling from here. Seriously, is there anything I can help with? Your mom is out at the back right now.”

“Yes, actually,” Mick cleared his throat and stared at the picture of him and Gina as he continued, “I saw this photo of me and Gina in the ranch— her room actually. Gina had this wooden rocking horse and I’m wondering if we still have it there. I’m hoping to ask Gina if I can get it and restore it as a gift for Minnie’s birthday?”

“Oh. That pink and blue one?”

“Yup, that one.”

“Gina broke it when she was five and we had it thrown out,” Michael almost sighed at the memory.

Mick winced when he learned the news. “Why- ugh Gina.”

“We told her that she can’t ride it anymore but she was persistent,” Michael chuckled. “Why would you restore it when you can just buy one?”

“Because it would mean a lot more if Minna got the same one her Aunt Gina has,” Mick murmured. “She’ll see it in the pictures and be like ‘Wow this was my Auntie G’s!”

“Huh,” Michael let out a hum. “That’s… that’s very thoughtful, Mick. But sadly we don’t have it in Texas, anymore.”

Mick let out a sigh of defeat. He could just always get Minna a new one, but it would mean a lot if his daughter got something from their childhood that she would enjoy as well.

Michael had a different thought, however.

The 7-time world champion had spoken up again after hearing absolutely nothing from his son, “It was something that I made from scratch, Mick.”

Mick’s eyes quirked at the sound of this as he asked, “You made it?”

“Ralf and I did,” Michael replied, referring to Mick’s uncle as Michael continued, “I still remember what it looks like and if you’d like, we can make it. Though I doubt that you’d have time to—“

“NO, NO, NO!” Mick panicked, wincing at the volume of his voice as he looked back at the entryway of the living room. Barbie would kill him if his tone woke the baby up. Then he began speaking as quietly as possible, “I’m not busy on my next off— surely it won’t take us long to make it right?”

“You have to rest for the—“

“—Dad, I’m begging you right now please help me,” Mick pleaded desperately. “I have a doubleheader after my next off and I wouldn’t have time in the future like Dad please.”

Michael immediately interrupted Mick, “Mick for the love of god, stop freaking out—“

“—Sorry,” Mick muttered. “Didn’t mean to freak out. ‘S just… I haven’t done anything for Minnie’s birthday and this is her first birthday. My first kid’s first birthday. I’m already missing out on most of her life and I can’t even do anything for her first birthday? What kind of a father would I be?”

Michael understood. He understood fully what Mick felt and he wouldn’t deny that. He was a father as well, and he rarely saw Gina and Mick during the season— he had often labelled himself as a shitty father for it. It was only fair that Michael understood how Mick felt now that he, too, was a father.

But instead of expressing his empathy outright, Michael only sighed and spoke, “Lassen Sie uns morgen mit klaren Köpfen beginnen.” Let’s start with clear minds tomorrow.

“Was meinst du, Dad?” What do you mean, Dad? Mick asked.

“We’ll plan out what to do in two weeks then start,” Michael told his son through the phone and instructed, “It’ll take us a while to figure it out so I need you to clear your brain and sleep it off. Don’t get too stressed, Mickie. ‘s not good for you— Minnie’s a baby but she can feel stress when it’s nearby.”

“Okay,” Mick cleared his throat, now determined to stay sane for a little while. “I’ll do that.”

“Don’t get too antsy about not being able to do anything,” Michael reassured him. “Everyone around you already knows you’re doing more than you think.”

“Alright,” Mick murmured softly, “th- thanks dad. Say hi to mom for me, yeah?”

“You guys~” Barbie had walked into the deck of their home, her face offering her husband Mick and father-in-law Michael a puzzled look.

“You two have been here for hours,” Barbie told them as if she was worried. She had been hearing some strange noise at the deck earlier today alongside the murmuring. Knowing Mick and Michael, she assumed that they were just relaxing at the back.

Yet here she was, looking at them with a baffled look as she watched Mick’s hand pull away from the half-cut lumber and electric saw.

“No we’re not,” Michael quipped, “we’ve been here for two.”

“Hours,” Barbie emphasized. “Minna just—“

“Da! Da!” Corinna had followed suit and walked out with eleven-month-old Minna in her arms, grinning as the baby continued to babble happily.

“Yeah, what Minna said,” Barbie murmured, stepping back as she said, “she just woke up from her nap.”

“Aw, is that right, meine kleine Minnie?” My little Minnie. Michael cooed, arms extending to reach for his granddaughter as he carried Minna in his arms. He grinned heavily as he began to move around with the little girl. “Did you have a good nap, liebe?”

“Pip!” Minna shrieked, only knowing that word alongside ‘Ma’ and ‘Da.’ “Pip!”

“Is that a yes or a no?” Michael hummed before pressing a kiss on the little one’s chubby cheek. “I assume it’s a yes.”

“Oh definitely a yes,” Barbie chuckled, “I know what Mick looks like waking up from a nap— she's definitely a Schumacher who had a good nap.”

Mick groaned playfully, earning a giggle from Barbie.

“By the way,” Barbie brought up, “Seb is coming over with Kimi and Stefan.”

“Oh great, look, Dad, Seb’s helping us,” Mick looked at Michael.

“What’re you two doing anyways?” Corinna asked, her eyes looking at the scattered tools and piled-up lumber. Barbie found herself looking as well, curious eyes now trained at the cans of paint as she looked back at the father-son duo.

“Stuff,” Mick shrugged nonchalantly.

“Wow aren’t you specific,” Corinna muttered.

“It’s for Minnie’s birthday,” Michael waved off the two women, “don’t worry about it. It’ll be done by the end of the day.”

“Minnie’s birthday is in four weeks,” Mick continued, “I wanted to make something for her so… yeah.”

“You don’t even know how to make something wood-related, Mick,” Barbie replied with a raised brow.

Mick then murmured, “I’ll show you something wood-related— ow, Mom!” Corinna smacked Mick on the back of his head and glared at him, gesturing back to Minna.

Michael snorted aloud, making Minna laugh at the sound.

“That’s your child in front of you, Mick,” Barbie warned with a cheeky grin. “Careful with your words now, yeah?”

Mick only rolled his eyes. It wasn’t as if Minna could understand that easily.

“Besides,” Barbie continued, “shouldn’t you be talking to Seb about… lumber stuff? He’s made an impressive apiary before.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Michael scoffed and waved off the offer, “I’ve made this before. It’s nothing I can’t do. Sebastian’s never done this— he wouldn’t be that good without any instruction.”

Corinna and Barbie traded looks. If there was something that the Schumachers and Vettels knew, it was that Sebastian was good at a lot of things— so the fact that Michael was underestimating his woodworking skills? That definitely wouldn’t sit right with Seb especially if he’s heard of it.

Sebastian Vettel wasn’t usually like this, but when Corinna brought up Michael’s comments about his skills the 4-time world champion couldn’t help but lean against the deck railing with a smirk. In his hand was a bottle of beer, watching the Schumacher men struggle with sanding the wood surfaces that they’ve cut. Or rather, they didn’t know how to operate the electric sander.

Mick groaned, “Seb— some help please?” He turned to look at the driver, who kept leaning against the railing with a cheeky smile.

“I would but Michael said I can’t be good without ins—“

“Oh come on, have a laugh, Seb,” Michael looked at Sebastian in annoyance, making the man finally cave in and laugh. “Just come help— this is your granddaughter’s gift too—“

“No, don’t call Minnie that,” Sebastian interrupted Michael and shook his head. “Don’t call her my granddaughter.”

“Is she not?” Mick raised a brow. He was merely teasing. After all, Sebastian proudly called himself Barbie’s (foster) father — therefore he was a proud Opa to the little Minna Schumacher.

Seb just refused to be called a grandfather. He wasn’t that old yet. Fernando Alonso was literally older than him! He sometimes denied that he was a grandfather— but he wouldn’t ever deny Minnie the right to call him Opa.

“Step away,” Sebastian said, now handling the sander as he started it. “You should’ve called me earlier today— I would’ve gone and done all of this.”

“Dad said he could do it, that's why I thought we didn’t need some help,” Mick reasoned.

Sebastian gave his mentor Michael a look and said, “Minna’s not just your granddaughter, Michael. Learn to share responsibilities. I have to spoil her too.”

Michael rolled his eyes, “Just sand the whole thing so we can paint it.”

Minna Schumacher’s first birthday party was anything but simple. The little one had charmed people with her signature Schumacher grin and had giggled at almost anything.

But it wasn’t just her adorable and charming being that turned the environment of the party up a notch. Her little heart-studded cowboy boots gathered the attention of most guests as she slowly walked and stomped around the venue, smiling up at whoever she came across as her mother Barbie assisted her.

“Oh my, is that my Minnie baby?” Barbie grinned at her mother Bel Vettel as the little one excitedly stomped her feet down. Minna immediately sped up her steps and leaned forward to be reached by Bel.

The older woman, despite not looking the part, took Minna in her arms and hoisted the baby up with a light grunt. Bel grinned and squealed at Minna, “You are such a big girl now, Minnie! Whatever will Oma do about it?!”

“Oma,” Minna babbled repeatedly before putting her little hands over Bel’s cheeks. The baby continued to babble as Bel nodded along.

Bel then looked over at her daughter and smiled, “And you? I’ve heard you’re feeling sick lately.”

Barbie rolled her eyes playfully, “It’s hard to keep things a secret in this family, huh?”

Bel chuckled, “You know that we’re only worried. Are you okay though, Barbie? Corinna said—“

“Nina!” Bel and Barbie chuckled at Minna’s excited expression.

Bel then continued, “She said that you’re feeling ill— or at least Mick’s been telling her.”

“Mm, yeah,” Barbie hummed, reaching to fix Minna’s pigtails as she continued, “I’ve been throwing up and all that… I think I know—“

“—I knew it,” Bel squealed, bouncing Minna in joy as she cooed at the baby, “Minna’s gonna be a big sis huh? Are you?”

Barbie chuckled happily, “I have a hunch. Let’s just not tell Mick or the others yet, if that’s okay. I don’t want them to get their hopes up.”

“Yeah, of course,” Bel grinned, pressing kisses on Minna’s face. “I’ve got more babies to spoil— and I thought Stefan and Kimi’s gonna be the only kids I’ll be able to spoil!”

“I still can’t believe you got her a bag,” Barbie rolled her eyes, making Bel giggle as Barbie continued, “She won’t be able to use that for a while, Bel. She's only a year old.”

“Yeah, but she’s my Minnie baby,” Bel pouted dramatically. “You know I wouldn’t pass up the chance to spoil my little Minnie, no, Bebe?” Bel grinned at the toddler as Minna replied with a laugh.

“Bel,” Barbie sighed, “you got her a Hermes.”

“Only the best from Oma Bel,” the older woman grinned, making Barbie sigh again.

Barbie then said, “Only the best for Minna— I feel like I’ve heard everyone say that.”

“Of course,” Bel quipped, “everyone wants to be Minna’s favourite. But it seems like her Da and Pippa will win that title sometime soon.”

They both looked over where the wooden rocking horse was. It was majestic— the handiwork that Mick and Michael made for the little girl.

It was similar to the one that Mick showed Barbie. But instead of the pastel blue and pink, the rocking horse was painted with the colours of Michael Schumacher’s racing suit back when he won his first world championship— the Benetton blue and yellow accentuated in the wooden horse while his driver number was painted on the sides of the horse.

Barbie chuckled softly, “Don’t say that out loud— Seb might hear. You know that he wants to be Minna’s favourite grandpa no matter how much he refuses to get called one.”

On the other side of the room, the birthday girl’s dad Mick, and her grandfathers Michael and Sebastian (who still called himself ‘Opa’ rather than ‘Grandpa’) stood as they looked over where the wooden horse was.

“I’m surprised that it turned out well,” Mick mumbled. Sebastian and Michael hummed in agreement. “Minnie wouldn’t stop going to it since she found it.”

“Well that’s good,” Michael joked, “otherwise I wasted hours of my time for nothing.”

“This was an eye-opener for me, you know?” Mick told the two, making the older men shoot him a puzzled look as he continued with a grin, “Who would’ve thought that it’ll take being Minnie’s grandpa for you to fight over the little things?”

Sebastian scoffed and Michael rolled his eyes.

Sebastian then grinned, “Had I known that Michael was going to be this insufferable as an in-law, I simply wouldn’t have let you date Barbie—“

Michael’s eyes widened and he looked at Sebastian with a baffled look, making Sebastian and Mick laugh aloud.

“Oh you two,” Michael muttered. “It’s no wonder why I’m Minna’s favourite.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep lying to yourself, Michael.”

“Yeah, whatever, Dad.”

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader

#formula one imagine #f1 imagine #formula one fic #formula one fanfiction #formula one fluff #f1 fluff #mick schumacher fanfic #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher fanfiction #mick schumacher #michael schumacher #ms47 #f1 fanfiction #formula one dad

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seeingivy · 10 months

Text

the ensemble cast

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic, masterlist here

content: eren being possessive for no reason, cherry + coke slushies, reader gets criticized online, good old teasing, reader mentions feeling anxious/having anxiety

an: lalalalalallalala lights camera action babes pls enjoy :D

previous part linked here

The set that Attack on Titan is filming on was originally from a previously scrapped project. Three weeks ago, when you and Eren first moved in, the two of you had pilfered from the leftover set dressings and props to see what you could find.

That’s where you find the tandem bike. The breaks don’t work that well, and the seat in the back is really uncomfortable, but it works well for you and Eren’s purposes, which is running away from set on lunch breaks to get slushies at the convenience store two blocks down.

As Hange said, you and Eren wouldn’t really have to do any method acting to become best friends. He’s literally the only other person on set besides Levi and Hange, who are usually too busy workshopping the set and the scripts to talk to you.

You guys eat breakfast together, go to class, and spend hours talking at night when you’re both too bored to do anything else.

You’re both leaning against the bike, two straws poked into the extra large slushie that you and Eren got. The cashier, Michael, gives you guys the slushie for free, but only one since he’s “not made of money.”

Hence, sharing. You guys always split the slushie in half - the right side is Coke for you, and the left is Cherry for Eren. It always swirls together halfway through when it starts melting, which is when you and Eren start playing with the straws - smacking yours into Eren’s and vice versa.

“Do you think it’ll be weird when everyone comes tomorrow, Eren?”

“Maybe a little bit. There’s a lot of them coming. And we’re used to having the place to ourselves.”

Tomorrow is the first official day of filming.

You and Eren have been filming scenes for the past three weeks. But tomorrow, the rest of the ensemble cast arrives, and you start really filming. And you can’t even lie - some part of the entire ordeal fills you up with anxiety.

Because the rest of the cast knows know each other already. Because they’re better actors than you. Because you’re kind of a fraud.

Eren mentioned that most of the people on the ensemble cast were great people because they were part of his class when he went to the SHWA. Meaning he already knew them. Meaning they all knew each other - that they had spent two years going to boarding school together and socializing within the same cohort.

Eren has already co-starred with Mikasa, and he and Jean used to do cameos on a different show together. He used to room with Reiner when he lived at the SHWA, and they’re all still really close.

Eren said it was kind of like a cult at times, how the industry seemed to function in that way. You just think he’s trying to make you feel better for being the sore thumb of the group.

But even beyond just meeting the cast, this entire week is a big deal. The ensemble cast is supposed to attend a panel that WIT hosts every year to answer questions and play the teaser trailer. Hange and Levi are panicking because first impressions can mean everything to a start-up show like this.

Eren tells you that there’s really big advertising company called the Elms that posts reviews of shows before they come out. They have no connections in the fields since they’re advertisers, but their opinions and reviews are basically written law once posted.

They’re the industry equivalent of a Michelin Star.

That’s why the pressure is on for this week - for the cast to get along, for us to finish filming and taking pictures for the promo, and to do great at the panel at the end of the week.

There’s so much to mess up you can’t even fixate on what to worry abo-

“Y/N. Stop it.”

You look over to find Eren glaring at you, shuffling his straw through the bottom of the ice at the cup. His lips and tongue are tinted pink from the drink, his expression annoyed.

“Stop what?”

“Thinking so hard. They’ll all like you, even if you didn’t go to SHWA.”

“I don’t know. I feel like you’ll all have inside jokes without me or something and leave me out. I don’t want to feel like a loser.”

He takes the cup from your hand, now empty, and swishes it into the trash can a few feet away from you. And then his ice-cold hand is in yours, squeezing.

You learn quickly that Eren isn’t the best with his words, but he’s always touching you in some way when a situation like this arises. He squeezed your shoulder when you forgot to bring your harness to set, delaying the entire crew for twenty minutes. And when you didn’t do so well on the French test you had last week, he put his hand in your hair but didn’t really say anything.

If it were anyone else, it wouldn’t work. But it’s Eren, and for some reason, it just does. It’s almost comforting now that you can rely on his hands to be on yours whenever you feel awkward.

“You’re not a loser, Y/N. And if someone thinks you’re a loser, I’ll just tell them they’re wrong about you.”

“Okay.”

“Plus. When they see us act, they’ll change their minds. You’re electric on the screen.”

Eren yanks the tandem bike off of the stand and pulls you up by the hand, the two of you lazily biking back to set. You try to ignore Eren’s comment and how it makes your entire body buzz.

You and Eren make ramen every morning. Because Levi said that the first time he did, it was a one-time occurrence, and he can’t feed you guys daily. He leaves out all the stuff for you, even going as far as cutting up all the vegetables that you like to put in your bowl.

“Eren.”

“Hm.”

“Try to catch the extra carrots in your mouth.”

You’re both playing the game a little bit too competitively as you start racing around the kitchen, trying to throw them so far that you both have to chase after them. And when Eren throws it all the way into the foyer, you go running.

That’s when you bump into him.

There’s a guy in the walkway who you accidentally knock into the ground from running so fast. He has short brown hair, the strands closer to his hair darker. And now that you’ve fallen on top of him, his hands are secured around your waist, both of your cheeks burning red.

You quickly scramble off, awkwardly running your hands through your hair.

“S-sorry. Me and Eren were playing a game.”

“No problem. I’m Jean.”

“Y/N.”

He smiles, his eyes glinting at you.

“Jean.”

“You said that already,” Eren grumbles from the kitchen.

You can see Jean’s cheeks burning red as the rest of them pile into the room, the quiet house suddenly bustling loud. You can’t help but get overstimulated by everyone you’re meeting, trying your best to remember names - Armin, Sasha, Bertholdt, Annie, Connie, Reiner - as they all start milling around the kitchen, sitting at the table.

“So, when are we eating?”

“Sasha shut the fuck up. All you’re worried about is eating.” Connie responds, smacking her across the forehead.

You walk over to the side of the table, tapping Sasha on the shoulder.

“They’re catering since you all flew in. They should be here in twenty minutes.”

She gives you a gleaming smile, returning to arguing with Connie. You can feel a hand tugging on your wrist, the guy from earlier yanking on your arm.

“So if they’re catering, why are you making ramen?” he asks, his cheeks pressed in his palms.

“Ah. Eren and I are kind of in the habit of making it. We kind of forgot they were supposed to cater today.”

“Well, it smells really good.”

“Did you want it, Jean? I don’t mind because Eren and I kind of ate before.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t-”

You march over to the kitchen, where your steaming bowl of food is, much to Eren’s dismay, and return to place it in front of Jean. And when you return to the kitchen, you watch chaos ensue.

Connie and Sasha claim that Jean should share because they’re best friends. Jean says that Sasha’s asking for too much. Then Ymir says that Jean’s face is asking for too much, and now everyone’s arguing with each other.

You lean over, whispering in Eren’s ear as you talk.

“Are they always like this, Eren?”

“Unfortunately.”

He pushes his own bowl of ramen to your side, placing the chopsticks in your hand.

“Oh. It’s okay. I was the one who willingly gave my breakfast away and started World War Three, so.”

“Don’t be stupid, Y/N. Let’s just share.”

You and Eren shuffle the chopsticks in between your hands, taking turns eating from the bowl. And you’re so distracted because Eren’s asking you about Falco and Colt that you don’t realize it when it happens.

Connie taking a picture of you two.

And suddenly, they all stopped arguing with each other and started teasing Eren.

“So this is why you didn’t tell us anything about her? Trying to keep her all for yourself, huh?” Connie says first, smirking at Eren.

You can see the tips of Eren’s ears turn red as he denies it vehemently, only goading the rest of them on more.

“Eren. Do you think Y/N is pretty? Do you love her?” Ymir asks, swinging her arm around your shoulder.

“Where do you get off, you little bitch? Why would you even ask me that? Do you think Historia is pretty?”

“Yes. I do think Historia is pretty.”

You crane your neck over to Historia, whose sitting at the table, her cheeks glowing pink in her hands. Mikasa and Armin are sitting right next to her, focused on typing away on their phones, but you can see the smile pressed on both of their faces.

“You didn’t answer, Eren. Do you think Y/N is pretty? Do you guys kiss each other goodnight? ” asks Reiner, this time leaning even more forward. They’ve backed you and Eren into a corner, the six of them smiling bloody murder at Eren.

Eren hates being put into a corner like this. But he hates it even more when you’re looking over at him, your eyes boring into his, expectantly waiting for an answer.

“Yes. I think Y/N is pretty. No, we don’t kiss each other goodnight.” he murmurs, his cheeks burning red.

You can feel your own cheeks heating up as Levi comes by, dragging the rest of the new people to set with the promise of food. Sasha’s the first one to leave.

Leaving you and Eren alone in the kitchen again, the half-finished bowl of ramen between you.

“Eren.”

“They’re always like that. It’s so embarrassing. Now I’m never going to hear the end of it. Especially from Connie and Reiner, they’re so fucking annoying sometimes it’s-”

You place your hand on Eren’s shoulder, stopping his rant in his tracks.

“I think you’re cute.”

“Huh? What?”

“You told me that you think I’m pretty. Just thought you should know I think you’re cute,” you say, shrugging your hand off and grabbing your harness from the ground as you walk off to the set.

Eren joins twenty minutes later.

He needed the extra time to get his heart to stop violently thumping in his chest.

Armin is the only one brave enough to ask. He leans over, straight into Levi’s headspace, and asks.

“Levi. What are they doing?”

The eleven of them have been watching you and Eren do this for the past few minutes. You’re both…standing there, staring at each other. You’re not exactly talking, though you do whisper something to each other a few times. You’re just kind of…standing there together.

“They do this before they shoot scenes. Y/N said it’s not really a thing for her, but Eren says he needs to feel some… tingle before he can shoot.” Levi responds, yanking his headphones partially off.

“Tingle?” Armin repeats.

“Tingle.”

“That’s not a tingle. He’s just excited to see Y/N.” Reiner responds, the rest of them chuckling.

You’ve asked Eren to explain it to you maybe a hundred times. And he always says the same thing. That he needs a second before he can shoot to stop being him, Eren, and being the character, Eren. And he knows he’s thought about it hard enough when he can feel this… writhing in his chest.

Most of the time, it’s not bad. He usually just stands there for a few seconds, looking at the ground or the set, and he’s ready. But today, the entire thing is making your cheeks burn. Because not only are the rest of them watching you, but he’s staring at you - green eyes, all soft and warm. He never really looks at you like that, straight on.

“Are you nervous, Y/N?”

“A little bit. They’re all watching, and it’s kind of a hard scene.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Why are you taking so long today? You’re literally just supposed to look all passed out in my arms.”

“For you. You’re like nervously twitching and have to stop before we can start.”

The scene isn’t too bad. You’re just supposed to get suspended in the air and then grab Eren when he comes out of his titan. Levi and Hange said it was preferable if you could try to cry, which Eren has been trying to coach you on for the past few days.

It’s supposed to be an emotional scene. You’re supposed to think Eren’s dead and that he’s returned to life. That your best friend, the only person whose been with you since you were little, will still get to be by your side.

(Hange’s really dramatic when they explain scenes).

And when you do it, you can feel your hands shaking. They’re blowing a lot of steam onto the set as you and Eren stick out of the prop titan, making your hair stick to your forehead and your skin sizzle under the lights.

You’re sure Eren feels the same way. You place your hands around Eren’s face as he starts wobbling in the air in your hold.

You’re not supposed to say anything. You’re just supposed to feel it.

That’s what Hange wrote on your script, next to the blocking for this scene. You place your hands around Eren’s face and take the sight in. The red marks streaking down the side of his face, the way his eyes are closed, and you’re not sure what makes it happen, but you really want to hug him.

Because if this were really true, if you really did think Eren was gone, you would want to hug him. You would want to hold him in your arms, press yourself into his skin to make sure that you can feel him, so that you knew he was really there.

So you do. It wasn’t in the script or what Hange and Levi wanted you to do, but it just felt right. To hold him like this. Some part of your stomach is burning because Eren isn’t really wearing a shirt and even Eren awkwardly shuffles when you do it. You whisper down into his ear.

“Sorry. Felt right.”

And when Levi yells cut and they pull you and Eren down, Annie is the first one to say something.

“I get it now.”

“Get what, Annie?” Eren asks, yanking his own harnesses off.

“You’re not a good actor, Eren. I was really confused when they picked you as the lead. But I get it now. You guys have really good chemistry.” she replies, milling off.

You apologize to Levi for not following the script. He, in turn, tells you to do it more often.

After four days of filming, Eren’s more pissed than ever. Because he figured that his jealousy or possessiveness would wear off by now, that it was just because he was used to it being just him and you for the past three weeks.

And he gets why everyone wants to talk to you because they’ve all known each other for years, and you’re the shiny new toy, but do they really have to talk to you all the time?

He can’t eat ramen with you in the mornings because Sasha always begs you to make her some too. Then she’s milling around in the kitchen, asking you mindless questions while you make some for her.

He can’t do homework with you in your room because Reiner always joins - and he gets that Reiner is really bad at French, but does he always have to ask for your help with the assignments?

And he can’t even talk to you at night when he’s bored anymore. Because Mikasa’s always there too - teaching you how to braid your hair, the two of you giggle about things he doesn’t understand.

He loathes it, which is why he has the outburst that he does.

He invited you to go for slushies with him on Friday before you fly out to Cannes for the panel. But when he yanks out the tandem bike and Jean asks to go along, he can’t help but get irritated at him. So he yells at him . Like bloody murder yells at him. Which is why you and Eren quietly bike, awkwardly sharing the slushie on the bench.

“So.”

“I wasn’t going to let him come, you know? Slushies are our thing, Eren.” you respond, swirling the brown and red ice together.

“Oh. Really?”

“Well, yeah. Some things should be just ours. And I can’t help it for other things - like when Sasha asks for food, or Annie wants help with the props - but I can for this.”

Relief floods through Eren’s chest, and he smiles for the first time in five days. Thank god.

“Okay. Good.”

“Were you feeling… bad about it or something? Like I wasn’t really talking to you?” you ask, Eren not meeting your gaze and instead focusing on the geese walking across the street.

“I know you’re not like supposed to talk to me or whatever, but like. I just kind of missed you, that’s all.”

You smile, leaning your head against Eren’s shoulder.

“I missed you too, Eren.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You and Eren bike back, matching pink lips, which is just asking to get teased at this point. Ymir asks how long you and Eren were sucking your face to get lips that pink, which just pisses Eren off to no extent. Levi makes them both sit on separate sides of the plane.

“Each person answers the panel questions in sets of two or three. There are three panels, so ensure you’re with the right person for each part.”

Your first panel is with Ymir, which you lucked out on. Because the second they start asking questions, your face is burning, your throat is itching, and you can’t answer even a single one they ask you.

You’ve never really been the anxious type. You’ve acted in school plays before and performed for big crowds. But that was always low stakes in your mind. The only people in the audience were people that you grew up with, their older sisters that always compliment you on their hair, and their parents that love to take pictures with you.

This crowd is something different altogether. They’re all wildly unfamiliar, with big cameras and notepads in their hands as they scribble down every little detail they can. Before you and Ymir could even introduce yourselves, even give them something to write down or take a picture of, they were already going hard.

That’s why you feel petrified on the stage. One of the questions is literally what your name is, but for some reason, this crowd of adults with shiny cameras and notepads makes you choke. Ymir saves the day. She’s charming enough to woo them all on her own, with a few comments from you here and there throughout the panel. Every word out of your mouth feels like balmy chalk running down your throat.

Your second panel is with Mikasa and Connie, who are surprisingly a really comedic duo. They’re both so different that they complement each other really well, providing funny anecdotes from set and talking about what it’s been like to film.

Connie, much to your dismay, tells the audience that you and Eren are inseparable - so much so that he’s caught you cuddling together on set before.

That was an accident. You were just tired from shooting on set for eleven hours. You can sneak by with another comment here and there for this panel too.

But the third panel is just you and Eren. And you know you can’t choke here because you and Eren are the leads. And granted, you haven’t really been acting like a lead this entire time by squeaking once like a mouse, but it’s infinitely worse to do it now.

“What’s wrong?”

You can feel the tears welling in your eyes as Eren looks over, concern washing over his face.

“I-I can’t do this.”

“What? Why not?”

“I don’t know. I already messed it up. My entire panels I- I didn’t even say anything because I felt so weird and like- I don’t know, I just can’t be a lead role. I’m not cut out to-”

He shakes his head, yanking you forward to push you into his embrace, his arms warm. His mouth is hovering by your ear, his voice so soft that it sends shivers down your spine.

“You’re going to be fine. You’re literally everyone’s favorite person on set because you’re just the best to be around. And it’s the same thing out there, just with people you don’t know.”

“You guys…you guys have to like me. And it’s hard when they’re all looking at me.”

“Don’t look at them. Just look at me. Just pretend you and I are sitting there, and the person asking the question is me, not them.”

You shake your head, burying it deeper into his shoulder. You can feel your panic subsiding, but there’s still a bubble of anxiety right in your throat.

You and Eren walk out, Eren’s hand pressed in yours, as you sit at the table, your hands still locked together under the fabric.

He squeezes three times before starting, introducing the two of you. The first question is for you.

“Who is your favorite person on set?” asks the lady in the front.

“Um. Maybe Hange. I’ve always looked up to them for a really long time, and getting to work with them has been re-really cool.” you mumble straight into the microphone.

You look over at Eren, who feigns shock as he talks into his.

“I’m offended, Y/N. My favorite person on set is you but your favorite person on set isn’t me?” he says, the crowd laughing.

“What? You’re so full of it, Eren. If they asked you, you probably would have said Levi because he did your laundry once.”

The crowd laughs again, and Eren smiles, his eyes warm as he looks into yours.

“You’re annoying, Y/N. I’ve literally said you’re my favorite person on set on every panel. You think you’re special to someone and find out they don’t even like you that much.”

“Oh, be quiet Eren. You’re so irritating. You know I like you.”

“What was that? Say it louder for me, I didn’t really hear you.”

“I like you.”

“One more time, Y/N. Use your big girl voice.”

“I hate you, Eren. You’re not funny and you’re not cool.”

The entire crowd laughs, Eren squeezing your hand under the table as they ask him questions next. You’re doing it.

And for some reason, you’re really in awe of this side of Eren. You never figured that he was the type of guy to be really good at press since he seems so awkward and stumbly when he’s around you, but he’s…really charming when it comes to this. He’s cracking jokes, poking fun at you while answering all the questions.

“Last question. For Eren. What was your favorite scene to film?”

“There’s this scene that we filmed a few weeks ago. Y/N did some really good improv in it, and when Hange and Levi showed it to us for the first time, we were just so excited for the show to start airing. Basically, you think my character is dead, but-”

You feel your eyes widen as you clamp your hand over Eren’s mouth, stopping him from spoiling the show before it airs. And you forget that you’re on the microphone because you accidentally start berating him into the speakers.

“Eren. You’re so full of shit. Stop spoiling the show before it can even come out.”

For some reason, the entire cast finds the entire ordeal so funny that they’re clapping bloody murder for you and Eren as you deck out.

And when you get to the back of the stage, Hange’s applauding you both for doing so well and Levi’s threatening Eren with promises of masking tape on his mouth the next time he tries spoiling the show.

You’re just thankful Eren held your hand through the entire thing. You wouldn’t have been able to stomach it if he wasn’t.

The review comes out early the next day. The eleven of you huddle around the computer, you and Eren sharing a chair as you wait for Hange and Levi to return with Erwin from the airport. The man of the hour himself has finally arrived to set, meaning you can watch the review.

It’s two girls with short blonde hair on both of them as they dissect the teaser trailer Hange and Levi produced for the panels, and the individual speaks themselves.

They introduce each actor and their character, commenting on past roles, character dynamics, and how they feel about the character overall. Almost everyone gets a glowing commendation except for Armin, who they feel doesn’t look the part.

You can tell from the way Armin shifts uncomfortably in the seat that he’s a bit put off by the comment, but Jean and Marco are already coming to his defense, whispering reassurance in his ear.

“Now, onto the leads.”

You instinctively grab Eren’s hand under the table, the two of you leaning closer to the computer to listen.

“The male and female leads for Attack on Titan are Eren Jaeger and F/N L/N. Eren Jeager was in the fourteenth SHWA cohort and already has a nice plethora of credits behind him - even going as far as to have already co-starred with major parts of the ensemble. We’re sure he will be a great lead for the show, a career-defining role if he does it right.”

You squeeze Eren’s hand three times under the table, everyone patting him on the back and squeezing his shoulders in congratulations.

“We’re unsure if the same can be said for female lead F/N L/N. Upon closer inspection, head casters Hange Zoe and Levi Ackerman have chosen something a bit untraditional by not picking an SHWA-affiliated actor. We’re unsure if she can hold her own on a show with big chops like this one since she could barely handle the panels themselves. Sure, everyone has been gushing over how cute the two leads are together, but Eren can’t really carry that part of the charm for her on screen. We’re unsure how it’ll play out, but it’s feeling pretty bleak for now.”

Eren squeezes your hand under the table, but you let go altogether. And when you look back, they’re all awkwardly staring at you, Hange and Levi pinching the bridges of their nose.

“Um. I’m not in the next few scenes, actually. So I’m just going to go eat dinner if that’s okay.”

“We’ll come with you,” Mikasa responds, yanking Sasha up from her chair.

“Oh, you guys have to stay on track with filming. You shouldn’t backlog the schedule. It’s okay.”

Eren watches you walk off set alone, Hange and Levi already doing damage control on their side. Levi’s already screaming bloody murder that they have no right to say that when they have no experience in the field, and Hange’s getting ready to run off and comfort you.

“Hange. Let me come, please.”

Eren watches Hange's features contort as they shoot him down.

“Sorry, Eren. I don’t think she really wants to talk to anyone right now. And I’m just going there to sit with her till she’s ready to talk.”

“She’ll talk to me. I can sit with her, I do it all the time. We’re best friends. And I just want to come. Please, please let me go.”

“Eren. These are all your scenes. You need to stay here. I’ll let you come check on her after, okay?”

Eren watches Hange run off and angrily acts through the next seven scenes.

When he’s done on set, he basically all but sprints to your room, snatching the video camera from Levi and Hange’s office, and knocks on the door lightly. And when he sees it, he can’t tell which emotion he feels most strongly. Never mind, he’s almost positive it’s anger.

You’re lying flat under your soft blanket, Hange’s hand in your hair. He can tell that you’ve probably been crying for a better part of the day, your eyes were all swollen and pink and your nose all runny.

Eren climbs under the blanket with you, hand locking with yours under the sheets. He squeezes your hand three times, which you return as you wipe the excess liquid from your face.

“Y/N.”

“What, Hange?”

“I’m going to call your mom and tell her that you have a boy in your bed.”

You and Eren laugh, rolling your eyes at Hange as you reach up to pull on their hair. Hange hops off the bed, retreating downstairs to get make the ramen that you asked for, as you and Eren shuffle under the blanket.

“Y/N. You okay?”

And at the sound of the question, you immediately start crying again, eyes burning as you lean your head into Eren’s shoulder.

The entire thing - it’s just so fucking embarrassing above anything else. It’s already humiliating enough to get called out as one of the only bad actors in the cast. Sure, they really dug on Armin too but it wasn’t to the extent that they did it to you. And Hange said that was because you were a girl, and they’re always going to be more critical of you than him, but it sure doesn’t feel that way.

You can’t act. You can’t do press. And for some goddamn reason, you’re the one leading the show with Eren instead of someone else. Maybe it should have been Mikasa or Historia or something, they’d surely be doing a better job at this than you.

“Nothing you say is going to make me feel better, Eren. Hange’s been trying for the past few hours, but you’re all just lying to make me come back to set.”

“What do you mean?”

“You guys just feel bad that they said that about me, even if it’s true. And now that you’re stuck with me, you have to make me do it. I’ve been telling Hange - I don’t know what they saw in me even to pick me in the first place. They clearly made a mistake.”

“Hange and Levi didn’t pick you.”

“What?”

“Well, they did. But, I picked you too.”

He reaches over, grabbing the shiny black recording camera from your nightstand. He pulls his arm around yours, holding the camera a few feet away from your face as he holds the looks for the video. And when he plays it, you recognize the same soulless room you did your chemistry screening in, Eren sitting in the chair.

“So Eren. We’re picking through the last few candidates for the lead. Is there anyone you want it to be in particular?”

You can recognize Levi’s voice over the video, and you’re sure Hange has to be the one recording from how the videos wobble around so much.

“You’re going to let me pick, Levi?” Eren from the video asks, eyes wide from shock.

“We’re in between three and we can’t pick one. And this person is your co-star, you’re probably going to spend a better part of the next five to six years with them if things go well. Should be someone you like.”

“Y/N.”

Hange comes into the frame on the video, pinching Eren’s cheeks as they ask.

“That was fast. Any particular reason?”

“I don’t even remember the names of the other ones. That’s how lame they were in comparison.”

“You sure, Eren? You really want it to be her?”

“Positive. I’d even bet on it.” Eren responds, looking over to Hange.

Hange smiles, circling a name on the clipboard, turning to the camera as they speak.

“F/N L/N it is.”

The video ends, the white screen glowing back on you and Eren’s faces.

“You… you picked me?”

“Yeah. And I’m not lying to you when I’m trying to make you feel better or tell you that you’re great. Maybe Hange and Levi are, but I’m not. I’ve always thought you were great.”

You and Eren lean back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. His hand is still in yours under the blanket, warm and sweaty, but you don’t really want to let go. Eren doesn’t say much after that, but when Hange comes with dinner and he has to go back, he says one thing which such confidence that you can’t help but believe him too. That you want it to be true.

“You’re going to prove them wrong, Y/N."

next part here

taglist: @platrom @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @daisynik7 @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @bsenpai @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @squirrelspoetry

pls comment on this post or any of the chapters if you want to be added to the taglist <3

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sadao-tsuki · 14 days

Text

Yes, I finally drew something..

Nah, here's a canvas filled with doodles of my bllk OC's

Yes, I made it with different brushes, how did you know?

I loved some and others.. well, not so much :p

Anyways, I wrote some things about those little doodles that I'll put under the pictures, so feel free to read and nah, just showing this thing I did (?

(remember that English isn't my first language, so if you find some errors then y'know why is it)

Starting with them..

THE BESTIESSSSS with my fellow @maochira 's OC Takumi teehee

Remember that thing about them taking Shidou's phone to text Sae?

I drew that EXACTLY, with a doodle of the boys interacting (they are talking about their crushes :0) and little Takumi smiling ;)

And a doodle of Lorenzo posing to the camera with Snuffy scolding the boys behind HAHAHA

He would surely post it with something like "pic with the boys getting scolded for some sh¡t"

(Ciro immediately showing that it wasn't his idea, cuz he's a good boy, and good boys don't do bad things, yeah yeah :D)

Btw, it was hard for me to understand Takumi's hair ahhh, I tried my best :')

I didn't do a lot of things here, just enjoying the smoothness of the brush that was literally delicious

So I did some expressions of Ciro hehe :)

Now I have a brush to draw some vent art muahahaha

Here I did some of Ciro's relationship with the boyssssss >:)

Ciro is always the dude that you can trust your secrets because he will never say it to anybody else, because he forgets about them the second you talk about something else haha

He mostly hears what others are talking about, and he only puts attention when it's something that the person really likes, if it's something that it's not serious (like in Sendou's little doodle) he surely won't pay attention to it

He's the same age as Aiku and Lorenzo (I want to think that Lorenzo is 19 years old, okay). The moment he told the rest of the team that he was 19 everybody was so confused cuz, hey, he looks like a 16/15 year old boy (because of his height and personality)

He reeeaaaaally loves his teammates (especially one of them)

He talks about some series or anime and watches movies with Niko, and even has that thing of having a random photoshoot with Aryu, since he looks majestic in random moments and wants to show him that (even if Aryu knows that already)

And

Oh..

His way of expressing his love is hard, with complimenting somebody's skills, showing interest in everything and just being there for them, and that's what he mostly does with Barou. He doesn't know how that guy managed to make him feel like that, but sure he enjoys it, and even if he can't express it with words he tries to show it anyways... Even if that confuses Barou as hell

And he mostly uses baggy clothes to hide his body, not because he's insecure.. just a little bit, but also because he likes how they look on him, he likes to look small on purpose haha

And yeah, I didn't forget about Amai tho

I didn't make so much content about him, but with this new chapter..

I needed to do something, y'know

Besides that little writing I put there

And what did I do?

Well, at first, I started with that ship with Kaiser jokingly, but I liked it so much that, well, I got obsessed (and this is just a small part of the content haha)

This guy is the most normal OC I did in my life, even if it started thanks to my bf haha

About him, he had a psychologist parents, or well, parents that care about mental health and so on, so it happened to him to know some things about psychology and he turned out to be the psychologist of Blue Lock (his office is literally his room HAHAHA)

The first friends he had were (ofc) Kaiser and Ness, that he met in the Bastard Munchen when they were younger. And their first Interaction was literally with Michael Kaiser himself, just a little compliment from Amai

"hey, I like your hair, it looks nice"

"uh? Ah, thanks dude"

And since then they started to talk and talk and then they become friends with the pass of the days hehe

That was in the past, in the present, he's not as close to him since Kaiser got, uh, weird, with the way he treats Ness and got a little bit too narcissistic, etc etc.. but he still cares deeply about him cuz he knows him, and it doesn't matter that they aren't close anymore, if he sees Kaiser bad he will go and comfort him with hugs, pats, maybe kisses since "it's still casual" between them

And, yeah, he surely doesn't get sad or shocked with other stories

BUT-

The moment he heard about Hiori's vent, about his parents and how he imagined that the zombies on the videogames were his parents..

Well

He kinda got a little bit like: "dude, you're clearly not okay" and it left him kinda restless and uneasy (?

Fun fact, his mother is Japanese and his father German, so the moment he got to Blue Lock he didn't need those things to understand the other's language cuz he's fluent in Japanese and German (?

Another fun fact..

Kaiser and Ness didn't know Amai could speak in Japanese.. or have Japanese blood LMAO.

I IMAGINED THEM BEING SILLY BY SOME REASON HAHAHA :'D

#i did something #wow #blue lock #bllk #blue lock oc #bllk oc #oc #original character #sendou shuto #oliver aiku #niko ikki #aryu jyubei #barou shoei #michael kaiser #alexis ness #?#nothing else #bye bye

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sofia-cloud · 1 year

Text

# PARTY AT CHICAGO — NEYMAR JR!

— ✎ PAIRING: young!neymar jr x fem!reader

✎ SUMMARY: you and ney are in love of each other without knowing it, when messi's birthday arrives (a mutual friend between you two) you have the chance to finally see him again.

✎ CONTENT: fluff, praise, soft neymar, kiss, pet names, glances.

✎ NOTE: english isn't my first language so i tried my best! And also you can comment if you want to be in the taglist or if you want to request something go here!

It was 9 in the morning, you just got notified of the birthday party at the palace in the center of the city, the most famous and most beautiful of any another building nearby, therefore obviously you agreed to come.

Only a little then you realized that also Neymar would come, the man you love from the first PSG match you saw when you asked him for the shirt, and he took it off and you were almost on to pass out, not to mention that the sweater smelled of freshness, pure, clean, you kept the shirt in a picture hanging in your room. It was 4 months ago by that event, and you were still in love with him, you have never seen such a handsome man ever in your life.

The chances of him loving you too were few, but not 0. You were trying to be the most optimistic possible.

10.00 AM

You have been thinking about half an hour to how nice Neymar would have been dressed as a suit, but you still had to decide the dress. Obviously you would have chosen the most elegant and stylish dress that you had in your closet, you wanted Neymar to notice you again and this time something more.

After about 20 minutes you have found a perfect dress, shone brighter than you would have thought, it was impossible to not notice. First you wear the dress that fit you perfectly, this was supposed to be your night, after that you went to make up, you wanted to be as natural as possible, you knew that Neymar didn't like girls with pounds of makeup in their face, but you couldn't resist not put on a light mascara, blush and lipgloss. Your hair was the most important part after the dress, you had to choose whether to give the appearance of confident girl like a model, or a cute, pure, angelic girl, you chose the hair type, you looked pure and angelic with this hair, but the dress made you look like a model.

By now it was 12:00 PM and you were supposed to have lunch, you called your friends to help you choose the shoes. At the end of lunch you chose white heels.

Neymar chose a suitblack, he had no idea that you were coming, in fact he was a bit annoyed to go to the party. Only later Messi informed him of the people who would come. When he said “Oh and YN will come too” and he went haywire, you would came? Within seconds he asked again Messi if he had heard correctly. The last time he spoke with you was 4 months ago when he gave you the shirt and the you smiled, that damn smile just did him fall more in love than he was.

For him, you were like an angel, your beauty failed to find it nowhere else, your voice was pure and gave the impression of a kind and generous soul, he couldn't get you out of his mind.

It was 7 PM, the party had started, you were late but almost to arrive, Neymar in the meantime was giving looks around but could not spot you, he hoped you were just late.

After 10 minutes you came in, your dress sparkled more than it should in the room, he was the first to turn around Neymar. He had a null look, as if had seen a deity, you walked embarrassed, quietly saying "sorry about the delay" smiling, your friends squealed commenting here and there on the dress and how much you looked nice dressed like that, Neymar continued look at you then looked away when you you turned to him. You didn't know what to think, it was too much? Didn't he like it? You did not know, but you were sure tonight you would have been brave and you wouldn't let go.

" You saw how he looked at you?" "He's literally in love with you" "exactly" your friends kept on comment on Neymar, in fact when he had looked at you, you felt more confident.

Your plan was to go into the banquet, ask for a drink and smile at Neymar who was sitting nearby, when you approached the banquet, he was already there for you observing, so when you asked for the drink and you turned your head to smile at him, you already found him smile at you, your heart was melting.

You smile as you felt your cheeks go in flames, when the drink came you had to leave but you didn't want, you wanted more than 2 stupid smiles, so you plucked up your courage and you said "this outfit fits you very well" with shy voice, waiting for you an answer like 'thanks', but he waited a few seconds first for answer and looked at you spellbound, then he said "this dress could never be better on a person" you would have kissed him if you could, but it wasn't the yet moment.

When everyone had gathered at the table where the cake was in the center, you couldn't take your eyes off Neymar, he was handsome even when he did simple actions, a few seconds then he turned to you and caught you looking and he winked at you, this one boy would take you to the grave if went on like this.

When the party was continuing, everyone was dancing but you had not found someone to dance with, until when you don't feel a hand on your shoulder, you turned around and there was him, Neymar. "would you give me one dance, anjo?" inside you were screaming from joy, you nodded smiling and not taking the gaze from him off for the whole time.

With one hand he took your hand and the other held your hip, you put your arms around his neck, until when he approached between the space of your neck and your shoulder, you felt his warm breath, "you dont know what effect you have on me every time" he said from 1 cm off my skin, your perfume was intoxicating him, but he loved it.

Until you couldn't hold back anymore and said "Neymar, you're making me go sick" his hands, his breath, his voice, when he turned his face towards you you didn't hesitate, and joined your lips to his in a sweet and candid kiss. He returned the kiss immediately, a smile escaped him and you could feel it in your lips, "I've been waiting for this forever, meu amor" he said separating his lips from yours but you brought them together immediately, this time a longer kiss, which showed how much you were needy for him.

You loved each other, and now you two know how much you did.

made by @sofia-cloud

Please send requesttt😿

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taivansupremacy · 2 years

Text

4 times nancy thought steve and robin were dating & the 1 time she knew they weren't

Summary: Nancy doesn't know how she didn't see it before. Robin and Steve are too close- too touchy to not be dating. But why does it bother her so much? She thought she was over Steve.

Word count: 5,825

A/N: This is my first ronance fic and im so nervous!! I've been seeing a lot of ronance content on my dash and reading a lot of fics on here and ao3 so i just had to write for them. Also trying out a new kinda format with pictures instead of a gif. I hope you all enjoy!

CW: swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of weed

The first time that Nancy realized that Steve and Robin might have been dating was when she crashed one of their weekly movie nights. She was dropping by Steve’s to return the jacket he lent her the last time their group hung out at Skull Rock. She didn’t plan to stay for more than a minute, just enough to pass back his jacket, make polite but short conversation, then head back home to study for her next chem test. But Nancy unfortunately asked about his plans for the night and suddenly she was sat on the loveseat, munching on overly salted popcorn and watching the new Halloween movie with Robin and Steve, who sat on the couch beside the loveseat, sharing a blanket and a bowl of popcorn.

If Nancy was being completely honest with herself, she was watching Robin and Steve more closely than she was watching the movie. She couldn’t tell you who Michael Meyers killed on screen two minutes ago, but she could tell you exactly what Robin and Steve were doing for the last ten minutes.

Cuddling. Robin and Steve were cuddling. The sandy blonde was tucked into Steve’s side, her head resting on his shoulder as they spoke in hushed voices, giggling every once in awhile. The sight of it made a lump form in Nancy’s throat. She knew that it was irrational to be upset about Steve and Robin’s closeness, but that didn’t stop her from feeling it anyway. The more she thought about it and let herself glance in the direction of the pair on the other couch, it became clearer to her that Robin and Steve were dating.

The lump in her throat turned into a knot in her stomach as the realization hit her. Steve and Robin were her friends and she should be happy for them. Then why was she so upset? Why did the thought of the two of them together neauseate her? She’d been over Steve for two years, so she had no reason to feel this way. That’s what she thought, anyway. She may have to reevaluate her feelings for the brunette after tonight’s events.

When Robin and Steve walked her out at the end of the movie, hand in hand, Nancy did her best not to stare at their intertwined fingers or notice how bright their smiles were when they looked at each other. She tried not to think about why Robin wasn’t leaving with her and the duffel bag that she passed in the hallway on the way to the front door, littered with patches similar to the ones on Robin’s favorite jacket.

She tried not to think of those things as she drove herself home. She tried not to think of those things as she lay in bed at night, willing her body to let her sleep. But the image of Robin’s head on Steve’s shoulder and the sound of lovesick giggling clouded her mind nonetheless.

About a week after the movie night at Steve’s, Nancy headed to Family Video to return a movie and rent a new one. She pushed open the heavy glass door, the bell above the door ringing as she stepped through the threshold. She was in a chipper mood, having gotten an A on her chem test earlier that day, until she saw them. Robin and Steve were behind the counter, standing way too close for Nancy’s liking and whispering to each other. She couldn’t understand why, as the store was empty and there was no one there to hear them. Her mood dampened even more as she got closer to the counter and saw them wearing the smiles that they had reserved only for each other.

They broke apart as soon as they noticed her, sheepish smiles replacing their bright ones. They knew they were caught.

“Nance, hey!” Robin chirped, her voice a whole octave higher than usual, almost as if she was trying too hard to pretend to be casual.

Nancy forced a tight lipped smile and gave a small wave as she approached the counter. Steve and Robin were now separated, now stationed at their respective registers. She headed straight for Robin’s register without a second glance at the Harrington boy.

“Hey, Rob.”

Nancy was undoubtedly still bitter about the previous incident, but she couldn’t help but soften as she stared into the baby blue eyes of Robin Buckley. Robin always had that effect on her. Robin was the calm to Nancy’s storm. The Wheeler girl cleared her throat to gain her composure- to bring herself back down to Earth.

“Do you guys happen to have Ferris Bueller’s Day Off? I came in here on Monday to rent it, but Kieth said it was out.” She leaned against the counter, her palms flat on the purple countertop as she waited for a response from the girl in front of her.

Robin perked up, immediately turning behind her to the black cart, marked “returns”. She rummaged around for a second before turning around again, waving the tape case in the air with a victorious smile. The sight made Nancy smile and her heart soar.

“Just got it back today!” Robin scanned the tape and set it on the counter, “Did you want to get anything else?”

Did she need anything else? Honestly, Nancy could care less if she got to see Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. The movie was for Mike, anyway, but she volunteered to go and pick it up while he was at Hellfire so she could see her friends. Though at that moment, she didn’t really feel like conversing with Steve Harrington.

“Don’t think so.”

“Cool.”

An awkward silence fell between the two as Robin finished typing Nancy’s account information into the computer, scanning the movie again, as she had messed up the first time.

“So…” Nancy started, “Any plans after work today?”

She was just trying to make conversation, but it sure sounded like she wanted to see Robin after work. Some may have even interpreted it as the preamble to a date invitation. She cringed at herself, hoping that Robin didn’t misread the situation. Since when was she an overthinker? Nancy Wheeler always acted with confidence, even if she happened to make a mistake.

“Going to Steve’s to watch a bad horror movie, maybe stay over,” She chuckled as she handed nancy her receipt and her movie, “What about you?”

Fucking Harrington again. She felt a pang in her chest at the mention of his name and willed herself not to show any sign of distaste. Nancy should have suspected that they’d hang out after work. They were dating, after all. As much as she loved Steve as a friend, she wondered what Robin saw in him. Even more than that, Nancy wondered why she was so upset about Robin and Steve watching a movie together after work. She had no right to be jealous and she reminded herself of that as she forced another smile.

“Cool. Well, have fun!” Nancy said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, “I need to head home to deliver this to Mike before Will gets there so uh I’ll see you later.”

She didn’t even give Robin time to reply before she was speedwalking towards the door, desparate to get out of the small video shop.

The Wheeler’s basement was the main hangout spot for both Mike and Nancy’s group of friends. This used to result in daily fights between the two siblings, as both wanted to stake claim on the space on the same days, until finally, they decided that Nancy got the basement on Friday nights and weekends and Mike got it every other day of the week. On Friday nights, Nancy had Steve, Robin, Eddie, and Jonathan over. It was a low-key hangout that sometimes included beer and weed, when her parents weren’t home to to smell it.

Robin and Steve were the last to show up, having gotten off of work later than their usual Friday hangout start time. They bounded down the basement stairs, Robin carrying the “good beer” that Steve stole from his father and Steve carrying the pizza. The sounds of their laugher and clanking cans of beer could be heard even before they had completely descended the stairs.

Nancy’s chest usually filled with warmth at the sound of Robin’s giggles. She usually found herself unable to fight a smile and a small chuckle of her own when she heard the raspy laughter. Usually the sound was music to her ears, but tonight she was almost nauseated by the it because Robin was laughing with Steve, more than likely because of something he said or an inside joke he brought up. Her blood boiled at the thought, but she couldn’t let it show.

“Hey, guys,” Steve managed through his obnoxious laugher.

Robin gave a small wave with the cutest smile to match. Nancy melted at the sight and almost completely forgot about the jealousy she felt a minute ago.

“We got pizza and beer!” Robin chirped, walking over to the coffee table to set 2 six packs down before taking a seat on the couch.

Nancy frowned to herself from her spot on the floor. Robin usually sat by her on Friday nights, it was the only reason that Nancy sat on the floor of her own basement. Steve followed suit, placing the large pizza box on the coffee table and taking a seat beside Robin, pulling a blanket off of the arm of the couch and over the two of them. The sandy blonde shot a grateful smile at her counterpart and Nancy was once again red hot with jealousy.

After the pizza was devoured and the “good beer” was broken into, Robin settled her head on Steve’s shoulder as she laughed at something Eddie said. Jonathan stood up, his trusty polaroid camera slung around his neck, and snapped a picture of the two all cuddled up together. Nancy stared straight ahead at the two with a grimace and fire behind her eyes as Robin laughed at a story that Steve was telling from their shift earlier that night. Steve’s fingers ran through Robin’s short sandy hair as he spoke. Even in her jealousy, she wondered how it would feel to run her fingers through Robin’s hair. It looked so soft from her spot across from her.

“Nance? Nance?” Eddie shook one of her shoulders from his spot beside her.

She shook her head, finally tearing her eyes away from Robin and Steve to look at the man beside her.

“Yeah, right. I’m here.” She nodded, more to herself than Eddie.

“You were up in space for a second,” He chuckled, taking a quick sip of his beer, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” She forced a smile, “Just lost in thought, I guess.”

Eddie quirked a brow and nudged her side with a smug smile, “Do those thoughts happen to be about a certain Harrington?” He asked under his breath.

Nancy scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Absolutely not.”

“Ahh, so you were thinking about Buckley, then,” He whispered just as smugly.

Nancy froze. She had been caught. Was she really that obvious?

“No! Just stressed about my essay for Click’s class,” She defended, tugging at the fibers of the carpet below her and averting the metalhead’s eyes, as she knew he would see right through her.

“Hm,” Was all he muttered before turning back to the conversation that was still going on around them.

Meanwhile, Nancy’s head was still swirling with thoughts of the sandy haired girl in front of her. She had never considered that she was jealous of Robin and Steve because she had a crush on Robin, as Eddie suggested. She always figured that she was jealous because Steve was hogging one of her best friends. But friends don’t think about how pretty their laugh is, or how soft their hair must feel. Friends definitely don’t feel their heart leap into their chest when they hold hands or get nervous to talk to them when they were too close in proximity. Fuck, Nancy had a crush on Robin.

For the rest of the night, Nancy tried to think of anything else. She also tried not to look directly at Robin and Steve and made sure to converse mostly with Jonathan and Eddie. Nancy was stubborn and usually stuck to her guns. She kept her eyes off of the couple in front of her, and successfully limited her talking to only respond to Jonathan and Eddie, but she still couldn’t keep her mind off of Robin.

The girl of the hour eventually switched spots with Eddie when he complained that his “old knees” were hurting from sitting on the floor for so long. Nancy immediately smelled her vanilla-scented perfume when Robin dropped to the floor beside her. They sat shoulder to shoulder and knee to knee. She silently cursed, wishing for the first time that Robin would go sit anywhere else.

“Hey, Nance,” Robin offered a small smile that Nancy knew better than to believe was real. She knew all of Robin’s tells, enough to know that she was nervous, “We haven’t really talked all night. How’ve you been?”

“I’m- Everything’s been fine.” She answered almost coldly.

It’s not that she meant to come off as mean, she just wanted to seem uninterested, maybe a little aloof, so that Robin wouldn’t push her any further, but her bitterness and jealousy got the better of her.

“Well, I missed you tonight,” She nudged Nancy’s side with a playful smile, obviously trying to emit a laugh from her upset friend, but to no avail.

The close proximity and Robin’s good intentioned prying was putting Nancy on edge, even more than she was previously. Having Robin this close to her was both electrifying and maddening at the same time. On one hand, her presence was always warm and welcome. Robin could make her smile on her worst days. But tonight, Nancy’s revelation made her stomach churn and the sandy blonde girl’s knee touching her own made her nauseous. It was too much for her to handle all at once.

“Yeah, well looked like you were just fine hanging out with Steve.” Nancy’s eyes widened at her own words. She had no idea where her biting words and harsh tone came from, but they were out in the open now. She couldn’t take them back, nor could she bear to look at Robin after she said them, her eyes trained on the carpet below her.

“N-Nance, I-”

“I’m going to head up to bed,” Nancy jumped to her feet, addressing the whole room, “You guys can stay up a little longer though. You know where all the blankets and pillows are down here.”

Nancy ascended the stairs without another word, muffling her sobs and trying not to think of the freckled girl that sat just downstairs.

It was Wednesday, which meant that per Karen and Ted Wheelers demands, Nancy had to go back to school and pick up Mike from his Hellfire Club meeting that got out at 8PM. She thought it was rather annoying, considering the mountain of homework that she had sitting on her desk, including an essay on Gatsby that was due in two days. The thought made her squirm. She hated having unfinished tasks, academic or not.

She pulled into a parking spot by the front doors so Mike could easily locate her and she could get home quicker. She put the car in park and sat back, catching a glimpse of Steve’s red BMW parked beside her and Steve leaning against the hood with headphones on and a walkman in his hand. He was waiting for someone, too. Without a second thought, she got out of the car, making her way to the brunette boy in front of her and leaned on the hood beside him.

“Hey. Waiting for Dustin?”

He shook his head, pulling the headphones off of his head and letting them rest around his neck, “No. He’s catching a ride with Will and Joyce tonight.”

“Oh..” Nancy racked her brain, “then who?” She asked, puzzled.

“Robin.” Nancy felt a pang in her chest at the familiar name. She should’ve known, “Her band practice ran late today. Usually she’s outta here by 6.”

“W-why? Why are you picking Robin up from band?” The green monster of jealousy was out to get Nancy again and she knew it. It was painfully obvious in her tone of voice. All she could do was hope that Steve didn’t hear it.

“Who else would do it?” Steve shrugged, “I won’t let her bike home past 5PM. Too many weirdos out here, you know? So I pick her up from band practice every Wednesday, whether it runs late or not. Sometimes we get dinner afterwards or hang out at her house for a bit. S’not a bad deal.”

Nancy pictured it, Robin and Steve laughing in the booth of a diner, holding hands and sharing a milkshake, or making out in Robin’s bedroom with one of her many cassettes playing in her stereo. She knew that she was only torturing herself with those images, but she couldn’t help it. Steve painted such a clear picture in her head with so few words, or maybe that was the jealousy talking.

“That’s nice of you,” Nancy forced a smile, “I’m here to pick Mike up from Hellfire on Wednesdays, anyway. So, if you ever wanted to just.. I don’t know, let me pick her up and drop her off at home so you can have the week off, I could totally do that.”

Steve waved her off, bringing his hand to his hip, “No, no it’s fine. We like driving around together, anyway. Rob’s been showing me new music and telling me all about the band drama. It’s really more fun for me than a burden.” He paused, turning to look at the girl beside him, “If I ever can’t make it, I’ll let you know, though.”

Nancy responded with a nod and a tight-lipped smile, afraid that she’d say something she’d regret if she let herself speak.

Suddenly, Robin came walking out of the front doors of the building, clad in the Hawkins High band practice uniform. The white shirt with the green tiger on the front hugged her body in all the right places and the matching green shorts showed off Robin’s long legs. Nancy had seen Robin in her practice uniform dozens of times, usually in the hall right before she runs off to the band room so she isn’t late, but that didn’t stop her from admiring how good she looked in it.

“Ugh!” She exclaimed, throwing her trumpet case in the back seat of Steve’s car, “I’m sorry we ran so late today. The trombones kept messing up their part and Mr. Baum wouldn’t let us leave until they got it right.”

She stripped her shirt off and threw it in the backseat, leaving her in only a black sports bra. Immediately after tossing her shirt, she slipped her shorts off, and tossed them on top of her band shirt. Nancy’s eyes were blown wide and she stared at the toned muscles of Robin’s stomach and arms for a minute before she came back to herself. She immediately looked to Steve, but he didn’t seem surprised. She tried not to think about how that meant that Robin was comfortable enough to undress in front of him, probably on a regular basis.

“Then once they got it right, the clarinets couldn’t get their shit together and the same rule applied and now here we are, going home 2 hours late.” She finished as she reached in the car to grab pair of green Hawkins High basketball shorts and slip them on.

Nancy had seen those shorts before. They were Steve’s. She’d seen him wear them countless times, from secret sleepovers at her house when they dated, to Friday night hangouts a couple weeks ago. Of course Robin would wear Steve’s clothes. It was extremely common for girlfriends to steal their boyfriends’ clothes, but still, it bothered Nancy.

When Robin was finished with her rant and getting dressed, she took a breath and looked up, cheeks growing red at the sight of the Wheeler girl in front of her.

“Oh god, Nance, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were there. If I did I wouldn’t have…” She gestured over her body, “I’m used to it just being ol’Stevie and I out here,” She chuckled nervously, rocking on her heels.

“No, I- uh.. I just… See I’m- well I’m here to pick up Mike today, so…”

Nancy Wheeler, one of the most intelligent, well-spoken students at Hawkins High was stuttering because of a shirtless, very toned, pretty girl in front of her. She could interview just about anyone for a newspaper article, take the insults of the men at the Hawkins Post, and walk headfirst into danger to fight the Mindflayer or Vecna and do it all with her head held high and unwavering confidence, but the minute Robin Buckley strips her shirt off, all of it goes away and she brings up her brother, of all people.

“Right, Hellfire Club meets today,” Robin said, a warm smile gracing her features, “It’s really nice of you to pick your brother up.”

Suddenly, Mike’s walking towards her car, a wide grin plastered on his face as he turned around to say his goodbyes to Eddie and his friends. He stood beside his sister when he reached the car. Nancy was still struggling to speak, her mouth and opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“Yeah, well- My um, my parents wanted me to- They don’t want to come back here so-so I do it.”

Mike rolled his eyes beside her, “Nance, let’s go.” He groaned, already impatient.

“Yeah, uh we should go!”

“Us too,” Robin added, “Gotta go grab some dinner, but I’ll see you before first period tomorrow?”

“Totally!” She immediately winced at her over-eagerness.

“Come on, Nancy!” Mike nagged, throwing his head back.

“See ya tomorrow!” Robin laughed as she rounded the BMW to get to the passenger side. She slipped into the car beside Steve.

“B-bye Rob!” She called, but the BMW was already gone.

Nancy had been stopping by the video store much more frequently than she’d ever admit. She wan’t exactly one for movies, that was more Mike’s territory, but she did have her eye on one Robin Buckley that worked the counter at Family Video. So every day after school, Nancy would drive to the video store with some excuse. Mike wanted to see the new Star Wars movie, her mom wanted a nice rom-com to cuddle up with that night, Holly wanted to see the My Little Pony movie were all excuses that she used, and none of them were true. She was just too embarrassed to admit that she showed up just to see Robin.

Nancy pushed the heavy glass door open as the bell above it chimed, signalling herr arrival. She didn’t see Robin at the counter this time, only Steve and a big pile of returned tapes beside him. Nancy didn’t panic just yet, Robin could be stocking or rewinding tapes.

She entered the empty store and made her way to the counter, looking around for the familiar sandy blonde mop of hair to pop up between the shelves, but it didn’t show.

“Hey Steve,” Nancy greeted, trying to see past him to the open door of the back room, which to her dismay looked to be empty.

“Nance,” He responded as he sorted through the tapes beside him, “What can I do for ya?”

She realized that she didn’t come up with excuse for today’s visit, so she had to think fast.

“I came for me today, actually. I want to have a movie night, but I’m not sure what to watch.”

Steve chuckled, he was definitely onto her, “Recommendations are more Robin’s thing, since she has better taste than me, but you can take a look around.”

Nancy just nodded and turned around to scour the shelves for her favorite blonde. She refused to believe that she wasn’t here. Nancy tried to convince herself that she could have been sitting on the floor between shelves, but even she knew that she was being delusional, as Robin definitely would have popped up to say hi to her by now. So she searched the empty store for a movie that she probably wouldn’t watch.

Suddenly, the bell above the door rang out again and Nancy could only hope that it was Robin starting her shift late. She craned her neck to see over the shelves and she quickly saw that it was not Robin. A tall, curly blonde wearing way too much lipgloss walked up to the counter and leaned on it, popping her bubblegum in her mouth.

“Do you have a copy of The Poltergeist?” The girl asked without greeting as she stared Steve down like she wanted to eat him for dinner.

“Y-yeah, uh we definitely do,” Steve answered as he rounded the counter and took the girl’s hand, leading her to the horror section, “You know, I heard that this movie is really scary. You might want to find someone to watch it with you.”

Nancy knew that tone. She’d heard it countless times when she and Steve dated. He was flirting back when he was dating Robin! She hid between the shelves and continued to listen, peeking through so she could see the two as they lingered by the horror section.

“Oh yeah? Maybe I’ll do that then.” The blonde responded, biting her lip. It made Nancy’s stomach sick.

They continued to flirt back and forth until they ended up back at the counter to check out. Nancy had learned that the girl’s name was Carrie and she was a cheerleader at a school in the next town over.

She watched as Carrie scribbled her name and phone number on the back of her receipt and slipped it bsck across the counter to Steve.

“Call me. You know, in case I need someone to watch this movie with me…” Was all she said before she exited the store.

Nancy was fuming. She thought Steve had changed, but it seemed that he was just fooling everyone and he was still the same grade A douchebag from 3 years ago.

As soon as she knew that the coast was clear, she speedwalked to the counter empty-handed. She was on a mission, “Where’s Robin?” She asked almost coldly, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Steve laughed, “See, I knew you only came here to-”

“Steve, not in the mood. Where is she?”

His smile quickly fell, “Uh… should be home. She called out to do some homework today. Said she was swamped. Is everything okay?”

Without another word or glance at Steve, Nancy took off toward the Buckley residence. He called out for her a few more times before she got to the glass double doors, but she kept walking. He didn’t deserve to have an explanation, Nancy decided.

Nancy’s car pulled into the familiar driveway of the Buckley’s house. It was empty, which meant that her parents were out for the night, but a blue bike with a metal basket attached to the handlebars leaned against the garage door. Robin was home.

Suddenly, she was at the door, her hand hovering over the yellowed doorbell as she took a breath, then she pushed it. Robin appeared, sliding down the hardwood flooring of the main hallway with socks on and Nancy almost completely forgot about her anger. Robin Buckley was a complete ray of sunshine. Her eyes widened in surprise when she peered through the window in her front door to find Nancy standing there.

The door swung open and Robin stood in the doorway, “Nance! Whatcha doin’ here? Not that I’m not excited to see you, because I totally am, but usually you call before you come over. Is everything okay? It’s not the Russians again is it?”

Nancy chuckled, “No, no. Not the Russians… but I wouldn’t exactly say that everything’s okay. Can I com in?”

Robin nodded and stepped aside as Nancy led the way to the Buckley livingroom like it was her own. It may as well have been, Nancy was over all the time. The girls took a seat on the couch and Robin grabbed the remote, pausing Family Ties before turning her attention to the brunette behind her.

“So… What’s wrong?” Robin asked, chewing on her bottom lip anxiously.

“Well I uh went to the video store today and saw Steve. He was flirting with some blonde girl and she gave him her number… I was just so disgusted with him. Anyway, I came right here so I could tell you. I’m sorry, Rob,” Nancy knew that she only gave an abbreviated version of what happened, but she told Robin what she needed to know and she figured that more details would just make her more upset. But Robin still looked at her with furrowed brows, possibly more confused than she was when she saw Nancy at the front door.

“I-I’m a little lost here, Nance, I’m not gonna lie,” Robin chuckled.

“Steve cheated on you,” She stated plainly and waited for the sobs, for Robin’s beautiful features to twist into a frown, for her to launch herself forward to hold on to Nancy as she cried, but instead, Robin laughed, loud and raspy.

“You thought Steve and I were dating?”

“Y-yeah. I mean, you guys are always cuddly and holding hands and you never go anywhere without him. He drops you off and picks you up from school, for god’s sake! He doesn’t even go to Hawkins High anymore!” Nancy didn’t know why she got defensive, maybe it was because she felt a little stupid, a little confused.

“Absolutely not. Gross,” Robin chuckled, “We’re just close, is all. Though I am surprised that he managed to get a girl’s number. He usually scares them away before they can even offer.”

“So you and Steve...?”

“Very platonic. With a capital P.”

“And you...?”

“Single and very gay,” Robin giggled, still amused by the mere thought of her and Seve Harrington dating, “Thought you knew that, Wheeler.”

Nancy froze. Robin was gay, which meant that she had a chance wirh her.

“W-well, no I uh don’t-didn’t exactly know that specific piece of information,” Nancy looked down at her lap, suddenly very embarrassed, “If I did I wouldn’t have come over here…to tell you that Steve was cheating on you.”

She watched as Robin’s confident smile fell and was quickly replaced by furrowed brows and an almost frown.

“Don’t worry. I won’t like hit on you or anything,” She chuckled nervously, obviously trying to play off her hurt, “You’re uh- you’re safe there.”

Nancy felt a pang in her chest. Robin thought she was disgusted by her.

“Does that mean that I’m not allowed to hit on you either, then?” Nancy wasn’t sure where that sudden burst of confidence came from. Perhaps she was more desparate to prove that she didn’t hate Robin than she was scared to share her true feelings.

Robin’s eyes snapped up to meet Nancy’s, her smile settling back onto her lips, “N-no I’d actually love it if you would hit on me because you’re hot and funny and so smart and I’ve been dropping hints for ages. Though, Steve tells me that I’m bad at that, so it’s not really your fault if you didn’t get them. I-I’d be honored if you’d hit on me because you’re definitely out of my league, I mean… I’m rambling again, aren’t I?” Her cheeks grow red under Nancy’s fond stare.

“A little, but it’s okay. I like to listen to you talk.”

Robin beamed and Nancy swore she could see the glisten of unshed tears in her eyes. The sandy blonde cleared her throat and tried to contain her smile. Nancy wished she wouldn’t. She decided she’d do just about anything to get Robin to smile that brightly at her again, as if she hung the moon, as if she was the center of Robin’s entire world.

“I uh…thank you. No one’s ever said that to me before. Usually people just tell me to be quiet.” The taller girl shrugged, as if she’d accepted that fact. Nancy wished that she didn’t have to.

“Well, I’m honored to be the first, then.”

A few moments of silence passed over them before Nancy glanced at the TV screen to find a still of Mallory Keaton sitting on the couch and remembered that she walked in on Robin watching Family Ties. She realized that she was probably intruding on a peaceful night in and stood up to excuse herself, walking closer to Robin to hug her goodbye.

“I’m uh gonna head home and let you get back to your night with the Keatons,” She chuckled as she gestured to the TV, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, yeah?”

“No, wait… stay?” Robin asked shyly, “I-I have popcorn in the kitchen, 2 seasons of Family Ties on tape, an extra pair of PJs upstairs, and my parents won’t be home until after school tomorrow. We could have like I don’t know, a date.”

Nancy blushed. She had to admit, a date night in sounded much better than going home. She liked Family Ties and she liked Robin even more.

“Hmm…I could be persuaded, I think. Maybe if you-” Then Nancy was cut off by Robin’s lips on her own. When the shock wore off, Nancy melted into the kiss and rested her hands on Robin’s waist, holding her close and gripping the soft cotton of her t-shirt as if Robin would get away from her if she didn’t hold on tight enough. Their lips moved in tandem as they kissed, soft and slow, like they were trying to savor the feeling, and Nancy was. She’d thought about kissing Robin Buckley for months and now that she finally was, she realized that her lips were softer and her kisses were sweeter than she ever pictured them to be.

She pulled away giggling when she finally needed to breathe, and she saw it again. Robin’s bright, toothy smile. The one that made Nancy feel like she was the center of her world, the one she tried to hide just minutes ago, but didn’t show any signs of doing so this time.

“I’ve wanted to do that forever,” Robin admitted with crimson cheeks and a quiet, giddy giggle, “So…are you persuaded?”

“Not sure.” Nancy said, feigning thoughtfulness, “Think you have to kiss me again. You know, so I can make an informed decision.”

And so Robin leaned in again for the second of many blissful times that night.

#ronance #ronance fanfiction #ronance fanfic #robin x nancy #nancy x robin #robin buckley x nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler x robin buckley #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #robin buckley #robin stranger things #nancy wheeler stranger things #nancy wheeler #stranger things robin #wlw fanfic #wlw #maya hawke #natalia dyer

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treedaddymcpuffpuff · 4 months

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Beneath Miles of Stone - Part five - John Wick x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: John has been in prison for nine months. He’s content to stay if it means appeasing the high table and keeping peace between the owners of each continental. However, he meets someone who erases that willingness. Peace be dammed.

TW: Bullying

Michael has a lot of stuff. A lot of heavy stuff. Despite him assuring her that he can move it all in on his own, she still wants to help.

It would be kind of a dick move if she didn’t assist with all of this. An hour in, and the apartment is already transformed from bland and empty into a hoard of pastel rainbow decor and soft white staple pieces.

She takes a break to admire the painting of a fluffy white angel cat over watercolor Van Gogh scenery. Michael comes through the door, panting, with his white, vintage microwave in tow.

“Who painted this?” She asks him.

He smiles, blushes, puts the microwave down and then his hand on his hips. “I did.”

Her eyes grow wide. “This is amazing.”

He chuckles. “Thank you.”

She likes Michael a lot already, but she’s also very jealous of him and his many talents and cool possessions. He makes her want to decorate and be creative, both skills she’s never been able to possess correctly.

She hasn’t gotten the key made yet, so she goes out and does that while he starts unpacking his things. By the time she’s done, her apartment looks astonishing. Fairy lights twinkle over gauze white curtains and a big speaker plays soft hiphop music in one corner of the living room. Her couch is full of comfy white and grey fluffy throw pillows. An incense burner releases gourmand, smoky aroma into the air.

Michael is stretched out on the couch, taking a break, watching Legally Blonde on DVD. Her small TV is now in her room and his bigger flatscreen dwarfs the stand that it was on.

She sits down beside him with two glasses of water. Before she can set hers down on the coffee table, he stops her. “Wait! Coasters!”

He digs through two boxes of stuff before he finds white marble coasters for them to set their drinks on.

She laughs at him and he grins back. “I know, I know,” he tells her, “typical trust fund kid BS.”

“You’re fine,” she tells him. “I was laughing at the coasters because the table is already a mess.”

“Listen,” he says, “this table just needs some tee ell cee . A sander and some paint would do her wonders.” He pats the wooden top.

“Can I help?” She asks, excited to take on a project with a new friend.

“Of course you can,” he assures.

She remembers him telling her that his mother is an artist. “Did your mom teach you to paint?”

He nods. “She also taught me how to make miniatures. You know, like dollhouses but for adults?”

“That’s amazing. Do you trade art with her?”

“I do,” he says, “we send things back and forth in the mail. Although my dad says it ‘ clogs up their post office box ’.”

“He’s not a fan of art?”

Michael snorts. “He hates everything except golf. Sometimes I think he hates me.”

She shakes her head. “Does he really hate you? You’re the perfect son.”

Michael sighs. “No, but he hates gay people, so it’s close enough. When I first came out to him, if my mother wouldn’t have been there, he would’ve probably shot me. He’s a real man’s man if you know what I mean..”

She nods, smiling ruefully. “Oh, I know exactly what you mean.”

Michael thinks for a moment. “We should get a dog.”

“I would love that, but it’s no pets here.” She frowns.

He raises his eyebrows and sips at his water. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

They decide it has to be a quiet dog, one from the local shelter who’s comfortable being alone at night. They look online for local pounds to read up on some potential candidates.

“Rocky. Pitbull mix. Potty trained, good with kids and other pets, sweet and loves everyone.” She shows Michael a picture of a medium sized black, stout dog with shiny grey eyes.

Michael shows her his own selection, a retired service beagle named Winnie. “Short for Winnifred,” he reads, “loves people and other pets, very polite, and hardly ever barks.”

“I love them both,” she groans, leaning back into the couch cushions.

“Same,” Michael sighs. “It’s one in the afternoon. Do you work tonight?”

“Yup.” She presses an arm over her face, blocking out the ceiling light.

“Don’t you have to sleep?” He asks.

She’s not tired at all because she slept through the night, but she agrees because Michael sounds like he needs some alone time. Plus, her DVDs and TV are in her room now, and if she can’t sleep she can watch an old horror movie again.

The problem isn’t getting to sleep, it’s staying there - waking up sweating, gasping, whining John’s name. She slaps her mouth shut, presses her face into her pillow, and prays to any deity listening that her voice wasn’t loud enough for Michael to hear. First day in the new place and his roommate has a wet dream. It would make any sane person want to revoke their rental agreement immediately.

She should be embarrassed and anxious that Michael potentially heard her, but instead she’s grinding against her sheets and thinking of tall men handcuffed to beds.

This won’t work. This isn’t working. She’s so pent up that it’s borderline painful. It’s taking over her mind. She sticks her hand into her sleep pants, past her underwear, and into a sloppy mess, tries to think about anything but John while she rubs her clit, but in doing so her brain latches onto the thought of him and pretty soon he’s the only thing on her mind. It’s like her body thinks John and pleasure are one and the same.

She tries to paint a decent fantasy of what she would like sex with him to be, but really she doesn’t give a shit as long as it’s him. And that’s what scares her. He could be absolutely celibate and she’d still crave him, and this is the worst time for her to realize that because her alarm is going off for work.

She orgasms at the cost of being ten minutes late.

The locker room lights are off when she goes to put her things away, which is unusual. Since she started, they’ve been lit around the clock. In fact, she’s not even sure where the light switch is in here because she’s never had to use it. Fumbling around in the pitch black is making her even tardier. Finally, she finds the switch and flips it. The room illuminates, and standing under the migraine-inducing glow is someone who makes headaches seem like a dream come true.

Benny grins from his seat on the bench, which he quickly abandons in favor of looming over her. Once again, the sweaty, edematous mass of him blocks her exit.

She’s too busy contemplating if anyone would hear her scream to see him hold his open palm out expectantly.

“Give it to me,” he says.

“What?” She asks, imagining in another universe she sounds angry and oppositional instead of whiny and terrified. In another universe, she can also kick his ass. Not in this one, though. In this universe, she does as Benny demands and hands him her phone so she doesn’t have to suffer through the touch of his greasy skin a second time.

He holds her phone in one hand while the other holds his own. She doesn’t bother trying to see what he’s doing because she can’t get her feet to move let alone stand on tiptoes and look over his shoulder.

This goes on for a while in which her only thought consists of asking herself if she could run to the door and make it into the populated infirmary before he can catch her. Again, this is a solution mainly dependent on her stubborn feet.

She’s not really worried about what he sees on her phone. It’s what he’s getting from it that sets her pulse careening.

He reaches out and tries to shove it into her jacket pocket, but luckily that’s when her feet decide to save her and step away from his hands. He scowls at her like she just insulted his mother.

“Fine.” Benny opens his hand and drops her phone on the stone floor. She winces when she hears the shatter, then looks back up at his pleased expression.

“Remember our trip.” He pushes past her, not enough to hurt but to make her yelp and stumble, and slams the door shut on his way out.

Her phone isn’t broken. The screen has a tiny crack in one corner but other than that it’s still perfect. She doesn’t understand why she heard it shatter, but chalks it up to losing her mind from repeated stress and unregulated sleep.

She grabs her bag from her locker and brings it with her to the nurse’s station, labeling the locker room as an unsafe and off limits space, which are becoming more bountiful by the day.

John is not her patient tonight. On her day off they must have had an influx of admissions because she’s responsible for 10 of them and the infirmary is unusually and appropriately staffed.

Her hopes of his nurse trading him are slim to none because he’s a wonderful patient and over time everyone has seemed to agree that they want him on their assignment sheet.

The other nurse’s that take and give her report always talk about what a cool, easy going guy he is and how they’re surprised that he needs that many guards with him.

“What do you think he did?” Stan, one of the day shift nurses, asks her.

“My bet’s on released a circus full of wild animals and let them trample a small town, but I could be wrong.” She taps her pen against her report sheet and laughs at her own joke.

Stan snorts. “He probably killed some rich guys.”

The other nurses like him so much that most of their theories on why John is in four point restraints with four men guarding him at all times is because he’s done something valiant that pissed someone powerful off.

That’s probably the other reason his wound looks better; not just because of her, but because if you like a patient or connect with them you’re more than likely going to give them the best care you can provide.

If she’s honest, it kind of makes her feel sick. Not because everyone has grown to like John, but because that means she’ll have less chance of being his nurse from here on out. Also, she knows it’s five-year-old mentality, but she liked him and treated him well first while the other ones had to get to know him beforehand.

Her case load is heavy. A couple IV’s, wound changes, someone with a tracheostomy. She sits down to chart, finally, at 3 AM.

One of the other nurses, Bill, calls for her across the hall.

She fights the urge to groan while standing on sore feet and walking over to his medication cart.

Bill grins at her, looking like he’s really enjoying himself. “My patient in 9 wants to see you.”

“Me?” She asks.

Bill shrugs, still looking very amused. “He says he needs to tell you something.”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” Bill tells her. “Seems that he likes your company, though.” He gives an eyebrow raise at the awkward expression crawling onto her face.

She reminds herself that this her workplace for the 80th time and that Bill’s suggestive expressions are just him messing around. Joking. That’s all. He’s joking.

John is watching the door, waiting for her. When she pops in like a mouse and scurries to his bed, He feels the urge to pet her on the head for showing up, which is strange but not unwarranted. She does act like a cute little pet. That’s not the most respectable way to think of her, but he likes it so it sticks.

His smile is wide and genuine. “How’s the roommate search?”

“Uh, I got one.” She smiles timidly, hoping he doesn’t think she’s erratic and air-headed for finding someone so fast

His eyes widen just the smallest bit. “That’s good, are they nice?”

She nods too eagerly. “He’s great. And he has great decorations.”

The key word here - at least the one his ears attune to - is he. Not because a woman and a man living together automatically entails romance or connection, but because John knows men - John is a man - and most of them turn out to be less than good.

He tries not to look mean, to keep his smile, to focus on her being here with him in the present and alive and well; If he doesn’t, rage will start talking, nefarious, whispering sin in his ear, assuring him that it wouldn’t be hard to break out of these handcuffs and make sure her roommate becomes her loyal dog for the rest of the time he spends living with her.

“If you wouldn’t have suggested it, I’d probably be homeless by next week.” She tries to sway the conversation toward optimism because she sees something in his expression that reads like he’s a little upset. He probably does think she’s a moron at this point.

Maybe it’s just good that she’s happy. He tries to shift focus onto that. The roommate can’t be that bad if she’s so upbeat.

It’s been very easy to talk to John most times, but then there are moments like this when something awkward and unsaid hangs between them and more often than not she doesn’t know what it is. Maybe he doesn’t either.

“Just be careful,” is what he decides to say.

She chuckles. “I will, don’t worry.”

He doesn’t understand what’s funny.

One of the security guards stands, stretches, yawns. He says he’s going to take a break. The other guards are asleep, so once he leaves they’ll be, essentially, alone.

“I’m gonna go to vending, John you want anything?” He asks.

John shakes his head no. “Thanks.”

The security guard nods at both her and John and walks out.

“I’m sorry if I bothered you while you were busy,” he says, apologizing with his eyes, too. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

She purses her lips, which he thinks means she’s trying not to leak an expression that will probably be embarrassing. Really, she’s trying to tame her lion heart back into its cage before it sinks its teeth into him and refuses to let go.

“I’m okay, John.” She attempts smiling. “You’re the one in the hospital bed.”

He shrugs like his stab wound and near death are just a hiccup.

She talks again. “And I’m glad you called me in. I like talking to you.”

His face is all smile now. “Likewise.”

He tells her to pull up a chair if she wants, and she steals one of the metal ones that the breaking guard left behind. She sits by his bedside and they have a conversation about the weather that turns into a discussion on harsh winters in Belarus.

“Did you grow up there?” She asks him.

He nods. “I traveled a lot.”

“So, you’re Russian?” She puts her chin in her palm and stares at him like he is the most interesting person in the world. She’s adorable like this.

“Yes. American, now.”

“Do you speak Russian?” Her eyebrows raise.

“da, ya krasivaya.” His tone automatically slides into a deep baritone when he says this.

He needs to be nerfed. Outlawed. He should not be handsome, nice, like-able, and be able to speak a different language in his perfect voice. It’s really not fair at all.

She’s too busy trying to tame her rogue thoughts to ask him what he even said. The desire to climb into his lap and straddle him crosses her mind twenty times in different ways. She blinks heavy. “You’re the coolest person I know.”

He murmurs a laugh.

They talk until the guard comes back from his break, mainly about Belarus and what it was like there and where else he has traveled. She’s not sure if she’s always had the desire to travel, but if she didn’t before she does now.

Although she has a ton of charting to catch up on, she doesn’t want to leave him. The taste of human connection is on her tongue after a couple years of abstinence and she’s becoming addicted.

When she leaves his room, it’s with inner reluctance and impressive self control.

She tells him to sleep. He promises he’ll try.

It would be easier to do her job if she wasn’t catching Benny sneering at her whenever they’re in the same space, but she gets through it, reasoning that John has it worse than her because he has to suffer through six hours with the asshole guard in his room.

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