#and with constance running from her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pynkfairyheart · 16 days

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Pairings: connie x black reader

Warnings: smut 18+ Connie's a lil toxic, mentions of a gun, pretty angsty

pt.2 to birthday girl but can be read as a standalone

Miss you

Constance Springer. The man who was once the source of your happiness though recently the source of your frustration and headaches.

“I just don't get it, Con. You take me on these amazing dates, buy me anything that catches my attention, and say you wanna spend the rest of your life with me, yet when I ask to publicly announce we’re together, which I shouldn't have to, you always brush it aside.” You spoke as calmly as possible. Though considering this was the 4th time this week you were having this conversation your calm tone resembled shouting.

It had been five months since your birthday. Five months since Connie gave you the best gift you could ever think of. Himself.

The first four months felt as if you were on cloud nine. The entire duration it was as if you were conjoined at the hip. Connie had to make a couple of drops? There you were in his passenger seat watching a movie or using his card to pay for the large quantity of your cart.

You needed to go make up a missed exam? Connie was waiting in his car with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. The only time you weren't seen together was if he was doing something he didn't want you involved in or if he was out buying you secret lavish gifts such as the car he got you a week after your birthday. Life was great.

It wasn't til you were at your nail appointment with Mika where she nearly cut you with her clippers from shock the moment you brought up your relationship with Connie, that you realized no one knew about it.

At first, you were confused. How could no one know? You were always together but the more you thought about it you started to understand. Whenever you were out he wasn't as affectionate as when it was just the two of you, just a few touches that could easily be considered friendly, but you just brushed it off as him not being comfortable with PDA.

Even when you went on dates he'd buy the entire venue or restaurant out so it'd be just you two or would plan the nicest dates at the house, either way, no one saw you on dates as a couple.

You thought about it for a while before it finally ate you up and you just had to ask. His response was the reason shit went left.

“Whatchu mean let people know we’re together? Ion want people in our business. I'm yours and you're mine, that's all that matters” He brushed it off with a kiss on your forehead before running to go get some eggs around the corner. He was only gone for ten minutes yet in that time frame you went through hundreds of different reasons as to why he responded that way.

At first, you were confused. Then, you were trying to reassure yourself he's right as long as we know then we straight. But immediately after that thought came anger why the fuck doesn't he want people to know? Am I the fuckin side chick?

By the time Connie came back you were fuming. You trusted Connie, the night he asked you to be his he promised you he'd never do anything to hurt you yet you couldn't deny how suspicious this was. He barely had time to lock the door behind him before you started with your questions.

“You cheating on me Constance?”

“What?” He almost gave himself whiplash with how fast he turned, looking at you as if you had said the stupidest shit ever which in his mind you did.

“You heard me. Are you cheating?” You followed him into the kitchen of his apartment.

“No [☆] I'm not cheating. I needa take you to the ER? Cause it sounds like you hit your head while I was gone”

“Then why don't you wanna tell anyone?”

“About us?”

“Duh”

“I already told you, mami, I don't want people all up in our business”

That was two weeks ago and you guys were nowhere near in a better place. By no means were you insecure. You knew Connie loved you and only you but you wanted others to know as well. It's not like you wanted to leak one of your many sex tapes on IG. You just wanted at least your friend group to know you were together. Connie wasn't having it though.

“Mama lower your tone” He groaned. Inked hands rubbing his face from frustration.

“Just tell me, Con. Why don't you want anyone to know?”

“Is it wrong to wanna keep our relationship private? I love you princess but you buggin’ for real. Drop it”

“You know what. Fuck this, nd fuck you too. There's a big fucking difference between private and secret.” You slammed his bedroom door. This was too much. You couldn't take it anymore; it was as if he was ashamed of you. You loved Connie, you really, really loved him but this hurt, the constant drop of your heart whenever he let go of your hand the moment you stepped out of his apartment complex or whenever a girl flirted with him in front of the group but there was nothing you could do. You were done. No amount of love could make you settle for anything less than you knew you deserved.

Despite your teary eyes you managed to pull yourself together. Grabbing your bag, you packed as much as possible before finally exiting the room.

Connie was in the middle of rolling a blunt when he saw you walk out, he would have been convinced that his heart was lying on the couch when he stood up if it wasn't for the loud thumping in his ears.

“Where are you going?” He stood in your way

“Connie please move” You sniffled

“No, not until you tell me where you're going. Please [☆] lo siento, mami, por favor, no te vayas please don't go” His voice cracked as reality hit him. Dropping to his knees, his hands gripped the soft flesh of your hips.

“I promise to be better, I promise. I will call everyone on my phone and tell them about us right now, please don't go” At this point, you had to look away. His tear-stricken face and Spanish almost had you fold.

“We'll work this out ma, estaré mejor, lo prometo I'll be better, I promise”

“No, we can't Connie. Not right now” And with that, you left.

A month had passed so far. It was rough in the beginning. He blew your phone up 24/7 to the point where you had to block him. You couldn't eat, and whenever you did have the energy to stay awake you did nothing but scroll on your phone, your thumb always finding the photo album where you stored all pictures of Connie.

Sasha and Mikasa finally had enough, while Mika was the only one you told Sasha had a pretty good idea after she went to visit Connie only to find him in the same state as you, maybe even worse. Deciding you needed to leave the walls of your apartment and have fun, they finally convinced you to go out. Taking a couple of pregame shots while shaking ass in the mirror, your outfit leaving nothing to the imagination as you finally felt ready to face reality.

By the time you had arrived at the party, the drinks started to kick in and you grabbed the first sexy guy you saw and dragged him to the dance floor.

Unknown to you Connie was also at the party, standing in the corner as he made a few deals. He looked tired, and he was. The moment the door closed behind you he broke down. Ignoring all of the calls and texts he got from clients as he sat there. He was angry. Angry at you for leaving him but mostly angry at himself for fucking up.

When Connie finally caught sight of you it was as if someone had finally flipped the switch on throughout his body. His heart sped up, his posture straightened and his dick twitched at the sight of your body in the dress.

His dick wasn't the only thing twitching. When it finally registered to Connie that you were letting some random guy touch you as you whined on him, his eye twitched and his hand immediately went to his gun.

He was furious. With zero fucks he approached you, the barrel of his gun pressed against the guy who you were currently throwing it back on.

When you no longer felt the swaying of the man behind you, you turned to be met with the fear-frozen stranger and Connie whispering something in his ear. You didn't have time to ask what was going on before the guy scurried off and Connie roughly grabbed your arm, dragging you out of the house party.

Despite the fact you were no longer together and he had no right to drag you away, you stayed quiet. Connie rarely got angry but when he did you knew it was best to just stay quiet.

“Get in the fucking car [☆]” He threw open the door. You were convinced the thong you had on was completely drenched after those six words. His voice was low and threatening and you almost felt disgusting from how turned on you were. Almost. With one look into his rage-filled eyes, you got in the car, the door slamming behind you when he was sure you were safely in.

He quickly got in, tire tracks marking the ground as he sped off. It was silent for a minute before you decided to speak, once his grip on the steering wheel loosened and the color returned to his knuckles.

“Connie?” You faced him, eyes burning into the side of his head as he kept his dark stare on the road.

“Connie, come on. You can't just kidnap me and then not speak. Pull over and talk to me now” You huffed.

With a roll of his eyes, he pulled into a deserted parking lot.

“Hello? Either you get to talking or I'm getting out nd calling an Uber”

“No the fuck you're not” He groaned loudly, eyes meeting yours.

“Then talk” You borderline yelled

If Connie's hair was long enough to grip he'd have a couple bald spots from how frustrated he was. He gave you both time to cool down before he spoke.

“Look I'm sorry for dragging you away, and for threatening your lil boyfriend-”

“He's not my boyfriend”

“He's not?”

“No. Continue your apology” You rolled your eyes.

Your response had a smirk forming on his face. He missed you so much, even your attitude.

“I missed you ma. I'm sorry for dragging you away. I'm also sorry for how things ended.” He grabbed your hand.

“I now understand your feelings and your concerns and I'm sorry I ever made you feel like I was ashamed of you or if there was another woman. You're the love of my life ma, this past month has been pure hell. I need you baby. Please take me back.” His hands were shaking as they held yours securely. It was rare to see Connie cry, and the sight of his tear-streaked face made your heart ache. He really did love you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat you asked the one question that started it all.

“Be real Con. Why didn't you want anyone to know?”

With a sigh, he rubbed his facial hair.

“I was afraid you'd realize you could do better”

“What? What made you think that Con?”

“I sell drugs for a living, mami, I'm involved with a shit ton of dangerous people. I was afraid when others found out they'd start telling you things about me and you'd realize you can do so much better”

“Oh, Connie” You could no longer resist the need to be close to him. Maneuvering yourself so you sat in his lap you cupped his face as your eyes searched his.

“Papa there is no one better. I love you so much, Connie. There is nothing anyone could ever say to make me want or love you less because I know you. I know how much you care and love those around you. There is no one better, Connie.”

For some time, the two of you were wrapped in each other's arms as you faced your emotions.

When you both were calm, you finally dared to look into his eyes. The energy shift resembling the one from your birthday.

“Con” You slowly inched your face closer to his

“I'm sorry for all the hurt I put us through mami” His hand wrapped around your neck

“Déjame compensarte let me make it up to you” He closed the space between you.

It felt like the first breath taken after being underwater for a long time. You felt alive, felt loved. The once slow kiss grew into something more passionate. Both of you needy, as you fiend for dominance in the heated exchange.

Ultimately you lost the battle when his hands gripped your hips tightly as if to assure himself you weren't leaving again. It wasn't soon after that you found yourself in the back of his car with your legs resting on his shoulder as he drilled into you.

He littered kisses on your ankle as his grip on your hips tightened. His thick cock stretching you out had your eyes rolling back and moans of ecstasy coming out of your agape mouth.

“Yeah? You doing so good fa me ma. You miss this? Miss how good I fuck you?” His thumb found its way to your clit.

“Fuck, Connie” You whined. Attempting to push his hand away from the sensitive bud.

“Answer me princesa or ima stop” He warned

“Yes, Connie- mhmph I miss it so bad papi oh my god” Your velvety walls squeezed him tight.

"Fuuuck. Don't ever leave me again, you hear me? I can't take it, baby, I love you too much. T-try that shit again nd Imma make you watch while I put a bullet in between his eyes. Understand?” His pace increased.

God that shouldn't have turned you on as much as it did. You were convinced you could have come on the spot, the added pressure on your carotids when you didn't answer immediately wasn't any help.

“Y-yes Con, I promise it won't happen again” You managed to say in between the moans and whimpers that you no longer had the energy to contain.

“Keep squeezing me, mami. I'm so fuckin close” He groaned, hand no longer on your neck as it rested against the steamy windows to stable himself.

The atmosphere of the car was pure filth. Your moans bounced off the windows, the sloshing sound of your wet pussy and slapping skin that created the creamy ring around the base of cock topping it all off.

His thrusts were slowly getting sloppy, you were just squeezing him so tight.

“C-Con” You managed to gasp out, the marks he littered on your neck to suppress his whimpers, having the coil in your belly tighten.

“I know mama, let go fa me” He groaned.

That instant you came, eyes rolling to the back of your head for a quick second as your cream and small spurts of squirt leaked from your pussy.

“Shit mama” He panted, dick twitching as he painted your walls with his cum.

Connie being the lover boy he was despite repeatedly denying it whispered apologies, and sweet promises into your ear as you came down from your high.

“I'm sorry mami, I promise to be better” He kissed you softly as if you were in a fairytale before whispering in your ear.

“But don't think just cus we're good now, that I'm not gon tear that ass up when we get home for giving that loser a taste of what's mine.”

I dont know how i feel about this one buuutttt all thanks to @masterofthepp for giving me this idea. Hopefully it meets your standards babes. As always any feedback is welcome. mwah

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 7 months

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Kinktober day 8 | Tate Langdon x Reader

Day 8: mommy kink

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: 18+, grinding, praising, slight degrading, overstimulation,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

‘’I like when you do that.’’

‘’Do what?’’

‘’Fix my hair when it gets in my face. Run your hand down my back when I’m laying down. Make sure I ate today,’’ he explained as you rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand as you held hands on the way home, sensing his anxiety after a long day. You had a knack for knowing exactly what he needed. ‘’Take care of me.’’

‘’I just love you. People take care of the ones they love,’’ you said simply.

Tate looked down at the sidewalk, his old converses suddenly very interesting to look at. ‘’I’ve never had anyone taking care of me before,’’ he admitted, feeling a lump of sadness settling in his stomach.

His words made your heart ache. It was rare Tate would bring up his home life, preferring to escape it than bother you with his problems, but you knew Constance never really took good care of Tate — or any of her children. She was a terrible and neglectful mother, blaming the end of her acting career on him when her failure came from herself.

You opened your mouth to say something, but closed it when you couldn’t find the words. Instead, you squeezed his hand and walked the rest of the way to your house in silence.

A few days later, you were watching a movie in your bed when your phone buzzed with a message from Tate. He hadn’t been able to come over today because Constance had invited her new boyfriend for dinner and wanted everyone to be there.

From Tate: Can I come over? I’m already outside…

Pushing your blanket off your body, you paused your movie and went downstairs, opening the door instead of texting him back.

You found him sitting on your porch with his hands covering his face, looking like he had been there for a few minutes. His eyes were a bit red, matching his sore-bitten lips. It was a stark contrast to the green of his sweater.

‘’I had an argument with my mom and her new toy,’’ Tate explained once he was in the comfort of your bedroom. He rubbed at his face, attempting to erase the traces of his emotions.

You nodded, sitting on the bed beside him. ‘’Do you want to talk about it?’’

He shook his head, not wishing to repeat what had been said. ‘’Can you just hold me? Please.’’

Without a word, you opened your arms, and Tate nestled into your embrace, giving him the love and comfort Constance failed to give her son.

‘’Whatever has been said at that dinner, just know that your mother is wrong,’’ you spoke softly after a moment, your head resting on top of his as he held you tight. ‘’You’re loved and wanted and you didn't ruin her life, okay? Not you or Addie.’’

He sniffled and nodded against your chest. ‘’I love you too.’’

After a moment, his hold loosened, slowly calming down…and undoubtedly noticing the absence of a bra through your shirt. Lucky boy. You fought a smile, having not considered your attire when you went downstairs to get the door.

‘’Do you feel comfortable like this?’’ you asked, breaking the silence.

Tate smiled smugly against your shirt, nodding. ‘’Very. They’re so soft and comfortable. I wish I could fall asleep like that at night.’’

‘’Do you want me to take my shirt off?’’ you whispered, taking him by surprise.

He nodded again, detaching himself from you so you could take off your shirt and fell back against your pillows in a more comfortable position.

When you first suggested it, you didn’t think it would take a sexual turn, but Tate’s mouth began kissing at your breasts while his hands were massaging and kneading, fingers digging into soft flesh. God, he loved your tits.

You would be lying if you said this wasn’t pleasurable. Tate was gentle and loving with his touches and kisses, savoring the moment. Your hand naturally found its way to his hair, running through his blond strands and encouraging him to keep going.

Then, you began feeling something press against your thigh.

‘’Not my fault. I can’t control what my dick does.’’

You bit back a laugh. ‘’Do you want me to take care of it?’’ Your hand wandered between your bodies to rub his hardening cock over his pants.

Tate whimpered and pushed into your touch. ‘’Please.’’

He lifted his head from your chest, his eyes still red but no longer teary, and you motioned to take your spot and lay against your pillows.

‘’Mommy’s gonna take good care of you,’’ you promised, leaning down to give him a sweet kiss. ‘’I’m gonna make you feel so good, Tate. So good you’re gonna forget about tonight.’’

That’s exactly what he needed.

With your help, Tate discarded his pants and boxers, causing his cock to slap against his stomach. It must not have felt good straining against his stiff jeans.

‘’Does that feel good, baby?’’ you asked, slowly running one finger over his sensitive length, teasing him.

He nodded, a shaky breath slipping from his lips. ‘’Y-yes.’’

You did it again, this time ending your stroke by brushing your thumb over the head.

Tate whimpered, his hips jerking upwards and causing his sweater to ride up his stomach, flashing a trail of light blond hair. You leaned down to kiss it.

‘’Such a good boy,’’ you praised, continuing to jerk him with your delicate hand.

You could jerk him off until he spilled, but you decided to have some fun and try something else. Withdrawing your hand, Tate started sitting up.

‘’Where are you going?’’ he asked, sounding alarmed.

‘’I’m not going anywhere,’’ you reassured, caressing his thigh. ‘’Don’t worry.’’

Nodding, he settled back and watched you move, licking his lips as you removed your pajama bottoms and underwear. His deep brown eyes gave your body a look over, loving everything he was seeing. The natural fall of your breasts and the reddish-mauve mark his mouth left behind, the tiny mole right below your navel that no one but him had noticed, the scar on your calf from when you shaved and accidentally cut yourself.

‘’You’re so pretty, Mommy. Can I have a kiss?’’

It was so nicely asked, you couldn’t deny him.

You swung a leg over to straddle him, your hands rubbing his hips as his thick cock rested against his stomach, hard and leaking at the tip. The sight almost made the arousal between your legs drip. Your eyes met Tate's as you rose up on your knees, but instead of sinking down on his cock, you lowered yourself on the length and grinded your slick folds along it.

He moaned from the slightest bit of friction, feeling your pussy sliding languidly along his cock.

A smirk drew across your lips, moving torturously slow.

Tate whimpered your name, his voice laced with frustration and desire.

‘’What is it, baby? Is this not what you wanted?’’ you asked coyly, the sound of your arousal mixing with his pre-cum filling the room.

You saw his eyes dart down to where your genitals were touching, rubbing together. ‘’Mommy, plea-please,’’ he whined, his cock twitching and about to burst.

You knew what he wanted, but you weren’t going to give it to him — yet.

‘’Are you close, baby?’’

He closed his eyes and gripped the sheets as his stomach spasmed. ‘’I’m gonna cum, I wanna cum.’’

‘’Don’t hold back, baby, you can cum.’’

Ropes and ropes of white cum then spilled onto Tate's smooth stomach, his climax hitting, but you didn’t stop like he thought you would. No. You decided to push his limits and tease him until he couldn’t take it, watching his hips lifting off the bed as his orgasm came again and again, ropes of cum shooting out of his cock and adding to the mess. You were surprised he could still cum like that.

‘’Can't cum anymore. So sensitive,’’ he said with tear-stained cheeks, whimpering through his orgasm and a little after it was done.

‘’You want me to stop?’’

‘’Please.’’

You caressed his cheek, wiping some of the tears. ‘’But I haven’t put it in yet...’’

—

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @Heartsforneteyamsully @aerangi @hallecarey1 @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @Idkwhattonamethisblogs @grxnde-dwt

#tate langdon imagine #tate langdon #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon smut #kinktober #american horror story imagine #american horror story

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evanpetersmybf · 3 months

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All he asked for was you

Tate Langdon x female!reader

Summary: Tate loves you too much. He would do anything for you, to keep you by his side, to make you love him forever. He would cross any line to make you his, it doesn't matter how evil it is... But was it really worth it?

Genre: ANGST!! and some smut

Word count: 5,104

Warnings: Obsessive, stalkish and violent behavior, implicit toxic relationship; mentions of weapons, murder, mental health issues, family issues, school shooting; use of Y/N, swearing, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected p in v. (i hope i'm not missing any...) NOT PROOFREAD !!

A/N: English isn't my first language!! Sorry if I have some mistakes and if Tate's a bit ooc (i tried to keep him in character as much as i could). I wasn't sure (and still not) if this is good but I spent days writing it, so I had to post it.

A small playlist with songs that inspired me for this: monster by meg and dia, pacify her by melanie martinez, all i want is you by rebzyyx, skyfall by adele, psycho by doko, paparazzi by lady gaga, dark red by steve lacy.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ

Tate never believed in love, nor was he a romantic one.

In fact, he despised it. How could he even believe in that feeling when he never felt loved by his own mother? At least that’s what he pretended.

The blond always had the facade of a tough guy, although he couldn’t fool anyone. Constance knew well he was a sensitive boy. Probably the most crybaby ever to exist… And the most unstable one.

Now he was here. His chest going up and down, breathing shallow and fast. His eyes were darting around the room, looking for something or perhaps someone. Some silly tears were rolling down his cheeks while he anxiously fidgeted with a ring on his finger. The clock on the wall continued its tick-tack. The time kept running. His heart kept beating. It was getting late.

He refused to look at the wooden floor. He didn’t want to accept reality. If Tate did that, he would feel like the biggest monster on Earth.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t stay like this.

He had to do something real fast.

Today, 18:40

You were supposed to arrive at 19:00.

But he remained there, next to the corpse of his rival. A bloody ax beside the dead man’s bleeding head.

Whom he thought was his worst enemy, was someone really dear to you.

Well, Tate fervently believed this was something justified. He couldn’t stand that fucking asshole anymore! That scumbag needed to be put back in his place. And Tate only did that. Furthermore, he actually helped him. He took him away from this shitty world. It was a favor.

He had already killed his mother’s boyfriend, so why was he feeling guilty?

Maybe because his victim was special to you. Because his death would hurt you. And Langdon swore to God he would never let anybody or anything hurt you, including himself.

He loved you.

He wanted to be the one to hold your hand forever.

Tate snapped back to the present and frowned. He picked up the weapon, putting it in his backpack. He didn’t even mind cleaning it. Then, he proceeded to knelt right next to the lifeless dude and cleaned the blood surrounding his body; afterwards, he dragged him to the basement and…

19:00

A knock on the door.

You arrived.

“DAMN IT!”

He left his dead foe lying limp on the cold basement ground and quickly ran upstairs, straight to his room. He also left the backpack there.

Tate spent the last twenty minutes cleaning the mess he made in the living room after he atrociously smashed your friend’s head, forgetting that had poor time to get ready.

He desperately looked for clean clothes, scrambling the entire closet in search of fresh garments while he cussed at himself, at his mother, at that freaking boy, at the entire world but you.

Finally he found some jeans and a striped shirt. He looked at himself in the mirror after changing and cleaned the tiny drops of blood that stayed on his face and hands. He never realized he left the bloody clothing on the bed.

Another knock.

19:07

Tate opened the door, immediately throwing himself at you and giving you one of the warmest hugs. His demeanor with you was completely different; you were the only creature capable of changing his fucked up mind into something more beautiful, more peaceful. The issue was that it only happened when he was with you, otherwise he would be aggressive and rude as usual.

You got the best of him.

“Missed you so fuckin’ much, babe…” Voice muffled since his face was buried in the crook of your neck. Tate always did the same thing; clinging onto you like a small koala would.

“Heh, me too, hun!” You spoke with the same soothing voice he adored. Tate giggled and placed a tender kiss on your jawline, then another, and another, and another.

Soon enough, he was peppering kisses all over your neck, making you moan softly. Oh those sounds. He could hear you melting under his touch, his embrace, for the rest of eternity.

He loved making you squirm, making you laugh, making you feel loved.

He was way too sweet.

Only if you knew.

Four weeks before today…

Tate has always had the bad habit of stalking you. Yeah… He wasn’t proud of it. But can you blame him? He’s constantly afraid of you leaving him. He wanted to make sure you never did so… Otherwise he would die. Literally.

Don’t ask how he would die. You already know the answer.

You two were supposed to have a date, albeit you had to cancel your meeting.

And that, of course, made him overthink. It didn’t matter how many times you told him you were going to study; he felt betrayed, as if you were rejecting him. And Tate hated and feared rejection to the bone.

“Pretty please? Please, Y/N! I don’t wanna go home early, mom’s gonna be there and-and–”

“Tate, I can’t skip this. I have like, a test every day next week and I must study. I don’t wanna fail. Please, sweetie. I promise I’ll make it up to ya’, mhm?”

He rolled his eyes and whined, almost throwing a tantrum. He didn’t try to manipulate you on purpose. It came out naturally. “But I need you, Y/N! Why do you always do the same, huh? Am I not that important? Don’t you love me any longer?”

His childish crying continued for a couple of minutes, until it stopped and the blond agreed a deal with you.

You thought he was calm now, but no. How naive.

You went to the library to study as you said… Without noticing he followed you.

Quietly, he got into that maze of books after you and hid behind some shelves.

Tate noticed you sat on an empty table. Thank God. Oh?

Who. Is. He.

A man Tate didn’t know sat next to you. Really close. Too close for Tate’s liking. He tried to think he was a stranger, that he wasn’t going to talk to you… He was wrong.

He clenched his hands into a ball when he saw that idiot talking to you, and the worst part was that you followed suit. It seemed you two were friends or something.

How DARE YOU talk to another man? No, how dare you talk to another HUMAN BEING!?

Tate was insecure 24/7.

If you weren’t there, Tate was falling apart. It was simple.

No Y/N, no happy Tate. Was it too hard to understand?

Three weeks before today…

It was Friday. Tate was impatiently waiting for you outside the campus, hanging a small bouquet of flowers he picked up.

Once he spotted you coming out from the building, he waved his hand and embraced you tightly once you were in front of him. He gave you the adorable present.

“Tate!”

“How did you do? Did you pass your tests? Don’t tell me, I’m sure you did.” Said, grinning from ear to ear. He was away from you for an entire week. How did he survive? He didn’t know, but he was glad to have you with him again. “Tell me about your life in the last days, baby. Please? I feel like I haven’t seen you in years!”

There he was, the one and only drama queen Tate Langdon.

You talked about the tests, about how the teachers were being a pain in the ass (which clearly triggered in him the intense desire of hurting them because they stressed you), and… About a guy. The same guy from the library, with whom you spent the entire last week studying. He couldn’t stand it. He saw him as a threat to your relationship, especially since he was an old friend that you met many years ago.

As the days went by, you gave him more reasons to hate that jerk. Why? Well of course because you spent hours at the library doing homework or studying with him. Or even hanging out with him and other people.

In reality, you went out with him to a museum just once, and then skating with other colleagues. Nothing compared to the time you spent with Tate; in a week, you would hang out with him almost daily, and if you were way too busy, he would go to your place and spend the night there. He was so attached to you to the point he had to see you at least once a day. And that’s why he was so jealous of your friend. Tate couldn’t stand the idea of you sharing your life with someone else who wasn’t him or your family… And he also got jealous of them, but he was handling it.

Two weeks before today.

After Tate’s pleas, you decided to introduce your friend to him.

Probably a big mistake.

The date was really awkward; your friend tried being nice, and Tate acted surprisingly kind. Of course it was odd; usually, he despised all of your friends and treated them badly, yet this time was different. You were stunned, however, you tried to ignore it and instead got happy as he finally accepted a random person as your buddy.

Still and all, he hated that moron. It didn’t matter how much he tried liking your pal, he was jealous of him. He was getting on his nerves. He denied the fact that you had more love for other people that wasn’t him. Tate desired being your only one. Your number one. Your entire world. Because that’s what you were for him. And he was willing to do whatever to keep you with him.

Tate exchanged numbers with him and meticulously plotted a plan to ascertain he would never talk to you ever again. At first, it came out as a simple “I’m gonna scare the shit outta him”, nonetheless, it turned into a darker idea, very likely involving physical violence.

One week before today…

The last few days, Tate won Peter’s trust. Ah yes. That’s your friend's name. You were glad that he finally opened his warm heart and began to meet more people besides you.

You thought he needed a friend, an empathetic person who could support the blond when you weren’t available, that way he would feel less lonely and depressed.

They went to the cinema, to the arcade, even to a music store. Everything was going according to what he planned.

Eventually, he invited Peter to his place to play chess and other board games on a Sunday afternoon, before you arrived and had a date with Tate due to your anniversary.

Today, 16:00

Peter and Tate were eating pizza and having a great noon, talking about their lives and random stuff, like school and music. They both enjoyed Nirvana, and since Peter played the guitar, he agreed on teaching your boy how to.

If it weren’t for Tate’s twisted mind, they would’ve been best friends.

The guitarist wasn’t a bad guy. He was a great buddy that really appreciated you and the crybaby, but Langdon had something else in mind.

18:00

The men watched a movie. Tate didn’t even know its name; in fact, he didn’t even pay attention to it. Instead, he was focused on his next actions, plotting them carefully.

“Crap, mom’s gonna arrive soon…” Tate mumbled with annoyance, biting his nails and tapping his foot on the floor. He was lying. You were going to arrive, not Constance.

“Damn, bro. Well, I don’t have a problem. I wanna meet her.”

“Huh? No no no, you shouldn’t. That bitch is crazy.”

Peter scoffed, disagreeing with Tate’s rude manner to call his own momma.

“Hey, you shouldn’t talk like that. I bet she loves you!”

That pissed him off. “You don’t know anything, Peter. Your family is different. Your life’s different. You won’t understand!” He yelled, standing up from the couch and now pacing around the room, trying to keep it calm.

“Dude, calm down!

“NO! I fucking won’t!”

The screaming continued for a while. Tate revealed his unstable and crystal self. Even something so insignificant could drive him to the edge, like what happened today. That definitely surprised the other one, who used to think that Tate was a sweet boy. “I dunno why Y/N is dating you.”

“What did you say?” Tate abruptly stopped pacing.

“Y/N. Y/N doesn’t deserve you.”

“WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT!?” He pounced on Peter, gripping his neck with one rough hand, applying enough pressure on the sides to stop the blood circulation in his carotids and make him lose consciousness.

Before passing out, Peter, getting pale, managed to croak out: “Because she deserves better…”

Soon enough, he fainted, giving Tate minutes to think about what else to do.

Your boyfriend wasn’t planning on murdering Peter today. No, he didn’t have time. He also was supposed to meet you.. But this was the perfect excuse! And not only that; he indirectly admitted he was in love with you! Or that’s what Tate interpreted with his delusional point of view.

Peter didn’t feel anything romantic for you, he was just worried Tate might be too unhinged to be your partner.

Thus, he went to his room and grabbed his backpack. Then, went to the garden shed and picked up the ax that belonged to his father, and a bottle of lye.

He had to get the job done quickly, nevertheless, he lost track of time.

18:30

Tate came back to the living room, just to notice that Peter wasn’t there anymore.

“FUCK IT!” Langdon got nervous. What if he escaped? What if he told you that Tate was crazy? He couldn’t allow this, not at all.

Thankfully, or maybe not, Tate found Peter crawling towards the front door, the poor dude still feeling dizzy after being choked.

Tate didn’t have any mercy.

“Where do you think you’re going, lil’ piece of shit!?”

18:38

Tate finally did it. He brutally murdered Peter, smashing his head several times with the ax.

He got rid of that little issue. He took him to somewhere clean.

Once he assured the other man wasn’t breathing, he dropped the weapon on the floor, making a loud metallic thud.

19:10

Tate was pinning you down on the couch, the same couch where your dead friend was sitting just an hour ago.

His hands were traveling all along your body, tracing sweet patterns on your skin.

Eventually, his fingers were clumsily pulling down your panties, not minding to take off your skirt. “Did you bring this for easy access, baby?” Tate chuckled and buried his face between your legs, holding your thighs in place; his lips plastered messy kisses over the warm flesh, biting it and leaving tiny marks after sucking.

Your reaction was alluring to him; he enjoyed listening to your pleas, to your whimpers. If it was for him, he would spend the entire day making you cum over and over again.

He finally got rid of your underwear, tossing it aside. Without further ado, the boy spread your folds with his large digits, and continued to lick your throbbing wet cunt.

“So fucking pretty… So wet for me, huh?”

His tongue lapped your small clit two or three times, then, traced a zigzag and circles on the sensitive nub. While he devoured you, he inserted his middle and ring finger, pumping them in and out of your cute hole, curling them and hitting the right spot to make you feel butterflies.

Tate could feel his arousal growing; his erection being restrained by the tight fabric of his jeans. He was desperate, yeah. But he always put you in the first place, and that included pleasuring you before him.

After a while, he replaced his fingers with his tongue, fucking your pussy with the agile muscle and now rubbing your clit with his thumb, applying pressure that sent electric waves through your body. He stopped using his tongue on you and instead looked at that stunning face of yours. He was delighted with your flushed cheeks, with every single gesture you did, with the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He wanted to take a picture of you to remember this moment forever.

His thumb increased the pace, while his free hand lifted up your blouse and tried to undo your bra. He couldn’t. You giggled when he groaned in frustration; he was too horny to think straight and that’s why you helped him to take off the garment.

Tate sighed and after that awkward and funny moment, he kept rubbing your bud, using your own juices and his saliva as a lubricant, intensifying the sensation. His left pinched and pulled your nipple, making you gasp and twitch beneath him, whilst his mouth abused your other one, greedily sucking on it.

“Tate, ‘m gonna cum! I-”

Tate cut you off by kissing you harshly; his tongue invading your warm mouth, exploring it and then nibbling your bottom lip until it bleeded. He licked the tiny drops of blood, savoring the metallic taste of it.

Unable to hold on any longer, you reached your orgasm, coming undone while Tate kept caressing your pussy, decreasing the velocity while you finally calmed down.

He left you panting; your heart beating so fast just like his.

You tried to sit up on the couch, breathing deep for more air, but the blond prevented you from going away.

“Where do you think you’re doing? We’re not done yet, you’re gonna cum again!”

Tate carried you bridal style and went upstairs straight to his bedroom. He threw you on the bed.

Without stopping looking at you, he unbuckled his belt and pulled down his jeans along the boxers; his dick already erect and throbbing, the veins thick and the tip leaking precum.

Using the clear liquid as lube, he stroked his shaft for a while, jerking off to the sight of you. He groaned and whimpered, closing his eyes as his hand pumped himself.

One of your hands went to your breasts, massaging them softly as your right went down between your legs, slowly teasing your womanhood and coating your index finger with your arousal, using it to rub your aching bundle of nerves.

Tate’s dark room was now filled with both of your moans; Tate calling your name several times and you begging him to fuck you.

He couldn’t stand this anymore. He NEEDED to be inside you, to feel your warmth enveloping him. “On all fours. Now.” You immediately obeyed, feeling as eager as him.

“Look at me, mhm?” He positioned behind you and rubbed the tip against your wet folds, teasing you for a bit. Afterwards, he slowly entered his cock inside your slit, moving it slowly at first. His thumb went to your clitoris, toying with it just like minutes before. He picked up the pace and fucked you fast and hard; his cockhead brushing your cervix. Grabbing a fistful of your hair, Tate pulled your head towards him, still with the deep thrusting. “Fuck, Y/N! You’re so pretty… So fucking precious, so fucking mine!” Moaned against your ear, voice raspy and agitated.

Panting, you stopped looking at him and instead looked to the bed. Why? Who knows, but you did it. And you saw Tate’s dirty clothes. Dirty with blood. A lot of blood.

You froze. Maybe it was red paint?

“U-uh, Tate?” You muttered, feeling already bewildered by the sight. You tried not to jump into conclusions, although you knew Tate and he has always been… Secretive.. And aggressive, of course.

After your boyfriend heard your shaky whisper, he stopped moving, even if he wanted to keep going. “Hm?”

“What’s this?” Tate sighed and pulled out from you, not understanding what you meant.

“What’s what?”

Without saying anything else to him, you grabbed the shirt and touched the weird stain. It was still fresh. You took your fingers to your mouth to taste it; and the metallic tang was too obvious. “Tate, what the fuck is this!?”

You threw it at him. Freaked out, you stood up and picked up your clothes, putting them on again, all meanwhile Tate connected the dots and realized he was probably going to get caught.

“Wait, Y/N! It’s not what it looks like, I swear, damn it!” He yelled and grabbed your arm, not wanting you to leave like this. He had to save his reputation, he couldn’t let you think bad of him even if you had all the right. Because, why the fuck the fabric was soaked in blood?

“Then what is it, Tate? WHY DOES IT HAVE SO MUCH BLOOD!?”

“CALM DOWN, PLEASE!”

You attempted to get away from his grip, struggling with him until, somehow, you managed to do so. However, you tripped with his dirty shoes and fell, realizing they were also stained with the red liquid. “Tate, what…? Why? What is this?”

“Nothing, I swear!” He didn’t have any excuses. Saying it was paint would’ve been lame. You were too smart and he knew lying wasn’t a good choice.

Feeling overwhelmed with the matter, you went downstairs, walking as fast as you could. Passing through the living room, a very familiar bag caught your eye. It was definitely Peter’s. You decided to grab it and realized it had his phone inside. Something was off.

Tate was standing behind you; fists clenched and heart beating like crazy. He tried to approach you, still thinking about what to do or what to say.

“Tate… What is this doing here? Peter’s here?”

“Huh? Yeah… He— He came earlier and had to go soon, he left this accidentally, yup…” You could see him fidgeting with that ring on his finger, again.

“Bullshit!”

Tate scowled and grabbed your chin, making you look at his dark orbs. “Tell me, Y/N, do you trust me or not, huh? Look me in the eyes and say you don’t!”

The struggle continued for what seemed eternity. You trying to run away from the house and he trying to make you stay. “Please, Y/N, just listen to me!”

“You did something to him, right? I know him, Tate! He would NEVER leave his phone like this! Is this a joke?”

“Why do you care so much about that asshole!? What has he done for you!? Tell me!”

“Oh my, you’re jealous! I knew it! All that crap about being his friend was a lie, right? Tate, you’re being delusional! I can have friends, I can hang out with whoever I want, whether you like it or not!”

Tate pressed your cheeks between his thumb and the rest of his fingers, squeezing the flesh with his veiny, big hand, pressing it tightly enough to leave the mark of his long digits on it.

“You can’t! You’re mine. Only mine. Since the day you were born you were meant to be mine. Not his, not anybody, just me.”

“Tate… We should end this…” You thought this was the best for both. Being in a relationship with him was draining; always being careful to not hurt him, make him jealous or mad. He was such a sensitive boy that always took everything too personally. He felt everything a little too much.

Since the beginning you knew he was unstable and that he had many issues, but you tried to see beyond his sick mind, you tried to understand him despite being so different.

Tate felt so safe with you. You were the only person who understood him, or at least made attempts to.

He felt rejected by the entire society, even by his own mother, until he met you and he had a minimum spark of hope that the world didn’t suck that much.

That’s why he clung to you. That’s why you were his everything. He would lose his mind if you leave him.

He felt like dying when he heard you wanted to finish the relationship.

He couldn’t breathe.

Some tears were now falling to the floor, his eyes puffy and an ugly frown on his face. His mouth twisted as he sobbed loudly, tugging the hem of your shirt while he begged you to stay. He was crying like a newborn, like a baby who had to be apart from his mother for a second.

“No no no no, you can’t do this to me!” He whimpered, his speech cracking as he tried to hold you close whilst you were stepping back. You were slipping through his fingers, you were leaving him.

“Tate, if something happened to Peter, I will never forgive you! Can’t you see you’re hurting me?”

Tate swore he would never hurt you, nor let anyone. But here he was, finally snapping out of it and seeing the cruel truth.

“You’ve been hurting me the whole time, Tate! I tried to understand you, I really did, I tried to help you, to save you from yourself! But it’s impossible. I’m losing myself here with you, I don’t even know who I am anymore! You don’t want help, do you? ‘Cause it doesn’t matter what I do, you’re never satisfied! You suffocate me!”

All those words were like daggers penetrating his skin, touching his nerves and making him die of pain. You were tearing him apart, just the way he was destroying you.

He finally let go of you, feeling a tornado of emotions. Tate felt depressed, mad, resentful, like he was going crazy. Though, he knew he had to leave if that’s what you wanted. He couldn’t bring himself to break another promise.

Thereby, he confessed his crimes to you. He explained he killed his mom’s partner a few days ago, and that now he had killed your friend. Why? He was jealous, he was scared you’d left him. You did it before you discovered the cruel reality, anyways. That’s why he told you. Because he couldn’t lose anything else.

The situation was utterly disgusting. Tate was sick. He murdered an innocent man and then proceeded to fuck you, as it was the maximum test of love, as if his life meant nothing.

You knew he wasn’t what people often considered “normal”. But this was definitely more than just being a “weirdo”. Tate needed psychiatric help… And being arrested, of course.

“You make me wanna puke, Tate! You’re the evil!”

Without hesitating, you left Tate behind, running as fast as you could from that living hell.

You just wanted to cry, curl up into a ball and wake up from this nightmare. You wished it was merely a bad dream.

Tomorrow morning, you’d go to the police, but for now you needed to sleep.

Monday morning, 11:05

You couldn’t sleep all night. You spent hours thinking about everything, about how this looked like a cruel joke to you. Eventually, you fell asleep at 4AM, and didn’t wake up at what seemed almost midday.

An intense sound of police sirens woke you from your slumber. Startled by the loud noise, you rubbed your eyes and went to the window, trying to get a glimpse of what was happening outside.

Police cars and SWAT vans were going in a specific direction… Towards Tate’s street. It couldn’t be, right?

Did his mother find the corpse? Or perhaps something else?

You looked at the clock, realizing it was late and you had to go to class.

08:00

After the most painful night of his life, Tate decided today everything would be over.

He had to cleanse the world… To take people to somewhere else, to some place full of peace away from the piss and the vomit that runs down the streets.

He was doing this not only because of your breakup, but also because of many other reasons. Your split up was the straw that broke the camel and drove him to the edge.

10:40

After shooting the school, Tate left the place, looking unfazed about what he just did. He was unhinged.

He peacefully got into his place, went to his room and stayed there for some minutes.

The blond sat on the edge of the bed, leaving the gun right next to him and stared at nothing. His gaze was empty, but also there were some tears threatening to spill.

His mind was a whirlwind. Some part of him was satisfied, but the other was confused, wondering what was he thinking, what had he done?

What would you think of him now? Were you even there? Did he kill you too and he didn’t even notice?

In the end, he recognized he indeed was the evil you said. Damn it. You were right, again, as ever.

Tate wanted to hear your voice, to comfort him, to hear you saying everything was okay. That he’d be okay. He desired to hear “I love you” from you once more.

11:15

You went downstairs to find your family apparently mourning you.

They thought you were at school when the shooting happened. They believed you were gone, but here you were.

Eventually, they explained to you what happened.

The first thing that popped into your mind was Tate’s wellbeing, still unaware that he was the culprit. You were afraid something terrible could’ve happened to him, you were regretting your last words to him, but you also had to get him prisoner.

Your heart dropped when they explained to you he was the shooter.

No, it couldn’t be possible.

It was possible. After all, he had already killed two men.

Even if you despise what he did, some part of you still longed for him, still was in love with his once kind heart.

A terrifying feeling of dread filled your body, making you feel numb, as if none of this was real…

11:25

After running to Tate’s house and seeing it surrounded by the cops and the SWAT team, everything stopped. Constance’s distressed cries and pleas were heard from outside, followed suit by the sound of bullets. It was over now.

Tate was certainly a troubled individual who dedicated his entire life to searching for something, to feel something, to feel loved.

All he asked for was love, to be loved, to love. All he wanted was you.

But at the same time, your love led him to an never-ending obsession that ultimately broke both of you.

He became your biggest regret.

All he feared, all his nightmares came true. Everything he was so afraid of was him and only himself.

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

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Eddie quietly falling more and more in love with Steve with every car ride—every time it’s raining, and he watches as Steve does a stupid little run with an umbrella to the front porch so Robin won’t mess up her hair before a marching band concert.

Falling in love with the constancy of it, with every little routine Steve does. It takes a few weeks of listening for Eddie to figure out that when Steve first half-sings, “Good mornin’,” as everyone clambers into the car that he’s imitating the song from Singin’ in the Rain.

Falling in love with how Steve always, always either has the radio on or a tape playing something that he can sing along to, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. How the car’s always this chaotic space but always, always brimming with love and joy—Steve snapping his fingers every few minutes, like, “Oh, Rob, this is our song! You know, when the—yeah, the shift when—no, not that one, the other time that—” (Eddie discovers with fond amusement that many, many songs share the title of ‘Robin and Steve’s song.’)

Steve singing along to the chorus of Mr. Blue Sky whenever Dustin’s called shotgun in the front, and Eddie soon realises, his heart fit to burst, that it’s because Steve must associate the song with Dustin; that he does the same thing with everyone he gives rides to, like it comes so naturally to him, his love for each person intertwined with each song, like he’s making the melody anew every time.

Eddie, tipsy from ‘Graduation Champagne’ courtesy of Nancy, asks Steve once if he has a song tied to him.

“Ah,” Steve says, smiling and bright-eyed in his role as the designated driver, “you have a whole damn catalogue, Eddie.”

And… oh.

Well, Eddie reasons, heart skipping a beat, he doesn’t need to know all of them at once, then. He doesn’t mind waiting, letting each one unfold, like unwrapping an expensive chocolate.

One night the two of them are driving back to Hawkins alone, having spent the day at a mall shopping for Robin’s birthday. They really didn’t need to spend the whole day, had already got her presents within the first couple of hours, but they dawdled, messed around, tried on increasingly ridiculous hats and sunglasses to make the other laugh.

And Steve fiddles with the radio until he finds an obscure station that just plays songs from musicals. And yeah, he sings along, but his voice is a little restrained, almost like he’s shy. Eddie looks at him with a soft smile, suddenly knows he’s seeing something precious, something Steve perhaps reserves for car rides alone. That Steve is letting him into a private moment.

“You have a real pretty voice, man,” he murmurs, quiet enough that they could pretend it goes unheard under the noise of the car driving along.

But as Steve looks ahead, he smiles, and his ears turn red.

He goes for it for the rest of the ride, voice back to its normal volume. He plays it up, trying to make Eddie laugh while they’re waiting for traffic lights to change. Catches his eye and damn near trills, “I feel fizzy and funny and fine, and so pretty, Miss America can just resign.”

And of course, Eddie laughs. Feels his stomach swoop. He knows what this feeling is. Oh, he knows.

As the West Side Story tribute ends, Steve’s voice drops back to his normal register. Turns gentle and sincere as he glances at his wing mirror and sings, almost to himself, “For I’m loved by a pretty wonderful boy.”

Yes, Eddie thinks, you are, you are, you are.

#have a little something before 1) next emotional chapter of nbtdad (an idea from here kinda related to it)#& 2) upcoming emotionally devastating dustin pov fic #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve and robin #steve and dustin #everyone loves each other so damn much & Steve’s love is like the sun & Eddie is so gone for him ❤️

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incesthemes · 1 month

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it's so great that the pilot episode of supernatural features a monster born out of anguish toward her husband's infidelity. and even greater that sam is the one targeted by her—implying then that sam has been unfaithful.

the show opens with the themes of infidelity and returning home. sam takes the central role in the conflict here and must make a choice to return home.

he stands on the threshold of two homes: family, where he comes from, and stanford, where he's forged a life for himself. his internal conflict is made manifest by the woman in white: like constance, he wants to go home, but he can't. the "home" sam can't return to shifts over the course of the episode. in the beginning, it's the family he can't return to, but by the end of the episode, it's his normal apple-pie life at stanford. these two homes are embodied by jess and dean, who both want him to come back to them.

the home distorts and melds with the lover as a result: jess literally occupies both spaces, which implies that dean occupies both as well. and then the woman in white attacks sam, targets him for his perceived infidelity, or potential for it. but who is it that he's unfaithful to, then? to jess, because he ran off with his brother? or to dean, because he abandoned him for jess?

but sam hasn't been unfaithful yet—he hasn't made his decision, hasn't chosen which home he'll return to. when the woman in white can't leave the impala, he realizes that she's scared to go home. it's a turning point in the literal plot and for sam's internal conflict. he voices his fear of returning home. this as a result implicates which "home" he will inevitably return to.

it's immediately after this realization that constance attacks him. he hasn't been unfaithful—yet. perhaps constance recognizes that sam's perception of home is shifting here, that "home" is no longer jess and has once again become dean. he's on the precipice of infidelity, and the ghost has seen the ending: "you will be."

sam drives the impala, the car he was raised in, the car he has called home, into constance's house and saves the day.

after this, sam becomes reluctant to go back to stanford. his surety from the beginning of the episode has become hesitant as he struggles to choose between his two homes. his home has shifted over the weekend, and it's only his sense of obligation that seems to win out at this point.

the woman in white's prophecy is finally fulfilled when sam adopts the revenge quest of his father. he chooses his home: dean. implicitly, this answers the question of who, exactly, sam was unfaithful toward. he leaves jess alone, vulnerable, and open to attack by running off on a weekend tryst with his brother. sam is the unfaithful husband, dean is the temptress, and jess is the dead wife haunting the next five episodes of sam's life. sam chooses dean, his home and his lover.

#liveblogging: supernatural #supernatural #1.01 #wincest #samdean #i said i was going to go through kripke era with a fine-toothed comb but it was supposed to be a joke #it wasn't supposed to result in essays #.txt #spn posting #spn1

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riptidewaters · 10 months

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Lipstick

Nate Archibald x Fem! Reader! (NAMED)

“UGH! Get me the new Alexander Mcqueen Bag Dorota!” Blair Screeched at her loyal servant, the latter muttering a meek ‘Yes, Miss Blair’ and hurrying away. Blair Waldorf, the “mean girl” of Constance and self-proclaimed Queen of the Upper East Side was, according to her throwing the “hottest party” in the whole year. ‘Hey B!’ Serena Van der Woodsen, the “it girl” of New York waved to her best friend, running forward and hugging her tightly, ‘I am so happy that you came back from Europe!’ she declared. Blair scoffed while striking names off the invite list, ‘Well, after Chuck ditched me at the airport I decided to take a girl's trip and travel around Europe anyway!’, She put the list down and walked over to the massive tables full of entreès and delicately put one in her mouth, Serena following her, Blair continued, ‘Anyways, enough about my broken love life, what's the gossip I’ve been hearing on you and Nate?”. Serena looked panicked, “There’s absolutely nothing going on between us! I haven’t dated anyone the entire summer!’ She said proudly, Blair paused and looked at Serena, ‘Wait- S, are you telling me you’ve gotten zero action for the ENTIRE Summer?!’. Serena shrugged, ‘Maybe, well there was that one hot lifeguard-’, Blair looked excited, ‘And....?’, ‘I rejected him’. Blair’s face fell, ‘Seriously S?, I’m gone for one summer and-’. Serena shook her head, ‘Wait! Before you launch into one of your speeches, I've got a surprise for you!’, She sang happily, Blair raised her eyebrows, ‘And what might that be May I ask?’. Serena grinningly thrust a letter into her hand, ‘Read it!’ She said. Blair rolled her eyes,

Dear Serena,

I wasn’t sure if you would remember me, but it’s Charlotte, from junior year. I hope you do! Anyways I’m coming back to Constance this year! I could not be more excited to meet you all again! Maybe we could meet up a few days before school starts? Let me where you are. Well Adios for now! Do tell Blair, Nate and Chuck I said hi!(especially Nate)

Love,

Charlotte.

Blair’s eyes widened, ‘Charlotte, the Charlotte is coming back?’ She questioned excitedly, Serena nodded grinning brightly. ‘I already sent her the invite to your party, if that's cool with you? She said that she’ll come.’ Blair smiled, ‘Definitely!’ ‘Wait! Should we tell Nate?’. She asked Serena looking at the letter, ‘Maybe it should be a surprise.’ Blair nodded, starting a conversation about party favours.

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‘I’ve been waiting for this all day.’ Nate muttered, biting her lip, ‘You sure Serena’s okay with covering for you? She was a little cold.’ Catherine said rubbing herself against Nate, ‘Oh she’s totally fine.’ he said closing his eyes and leaning in, ‘But you haven’t told her anything?’ Cathrine questioned pulling Nate for a chaste kiss, He shook his head, ‘All she knows is I’m seeing someone new...I’m not ready to introduce to anyone yet.’ She pulled away, pushing Nate behind and looking at him with a stern look in her eyes, ‘Or ever.’ He finished. ‘Look, she needed time to decompress from her breakup anyway,’ Nate kissed her, ‘Covering for me works for her too.’ A car whizzed by the one they were in, Catherine looked alarmed, ‘Let’s go back to my place before anyone spots us.’ Nate raised his eyebrows, ‘Your House?’ She grinned, nodding, ‘I thought we couldn’t.’ She smiled at him, ‘There’s always the guest house’. Nate chuckled pulling her in for another kiss.

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‘Okay, how do I look?!’ Blair asked twirling around for Serena to see, She smiled ‘Gorgeous as always B.’ She remarked Blair turned around adjusting her iconic bejewelled headband, ‘How do you think She looks now?’ She asked Serena, ‘I don’t think she might have changed too much,’ Serena shrugged. ‘Probably’ Blair agreed. Looking in the mirror, ‘Excuse me?’ She asked a random saleswoman, ‘Can I get this in white?’, The woman nodded and walked towards the display to get it off the mannequin. ‘This dress is perfect for my party!’ She squealed excitedly clapping her hands. Serena smiled, ‘Now that you’re done can we go look for my dress?’, Blair grinned ‘I’m sure I can take out a few minutes of my valuable time to go look for your dress.’ She said, Serena laughed and grabbed Blair by her shoulders, ‘We are getting out now!’. With that the two girls walked out laughing.

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The day of the white party was a complete disaster..... at least it was according to a certain Charles Bass, famously known as Chuck Bass. Blair had asked him if he loved her the day he had met James, Blair’s seemingly “perfect” boyfriend and he had stupidly kept his big mouth shut and made her cry. Showing up to the White party had been a pain in his arse, especially when he saw Blair making out with her new boyfriend who had supposedly gone to “Georgetown”. And then something worth the attention of Chuck Bass happened, He saw Charlotte Jackson, also known as the one who disappeared after Junior year, staring at Serena Van der Woodsen having a spit-swapping session with Nate Archibald. Chuck grabbed a glass of white wine off a tray smirking, ‘Well, that’s going to be fun...’ with that he sauntered off towards an awestruck Charlotte.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Part 2 is now out!

#nate archibald imagines #nate archibald x reader #gossip girl #upper east side #hamptons #blair waldorf #chuck bass #serena van der woodsen

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clawsextended · 12 days

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sleep always eludes her. it’s been that way since she was a child, when sleep was an impossibility interrupted by the banging thunder of her father’s bellow. she’d begin to nod off or worse, always worse — how the dark would swallow her up when she couldn’t keep awake long enough to listen, to hear for the deafening boom before the thunderclap of a palm.

as an adult, horrors conglomerate in ways she can’t run from no matter how fast her feet hit the floor. no matter how fast selina becomes, how high she can jump, how dire the force with which she can strike — she can’t get away from herself. it’s the one thing that’s always there, the constancy she can’t kill.

(no one understands what it’s like to live two lives all the time, for that second life to ooze, insidious, into your waking moments. what it’s like to be trapped alongside your own brain with frothing extremity, watching you operate always through glass. the only you is never you.)

it’s her third cup of coffee of the morning. she’s been puttering around the house trying to hang a chandelier, bouncing between that and trying to assess the electrical wiring. she figures houses made by magic have a pretty complicated infrastructure. she doesn’t assume regina knows anything about the difference between a wall that’s load-bearing and isn’t.

which is certainly an unnecessary thought process to have while doing three different things, but she’s selina so of course she’s having it. the studfinder beeps against the wall in a few continuous, shrill sounds until it stops. she pockets it and hums like it makes complete sense to her.

and then a weird sense of something tired tugs for her attention. she’s stifling a yawn, suddenly, blinking and blinking. when did she get so… tired?

tired enough to wander to the couch, curl up in the corner like a kitten, drifting. the ladder stands in the center of the room, the chandelier forgotten alongside, the whole process half-done, a strange sentinel to this moment. selina leaves nothing half-done, not ever.

she loses herself finally, swallowed by that chasmic abyss she’s always fought against.

@faultyconscience

#CLAWS EXTENDED.#FAULTYCONSCIENCE #[STRUMS A BANJO.]

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yourdeepestfathoms · 2 years

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okay but Ride the Cyclone could have been Way Darker if it wanted. i mean, it's literally about six innocent children dying horribly in a roller coaster accident.

imagine their uniforms stained in blood from their injuries—but not all of it is even their own because, you know, Jane got decapitated. there's a good chance her blood literally sprayed onto them.

and speaking of injuries! Ocean or Constance have a limp because their legs got crushed by the front of the cart, the kids will sometimes wobble unsteadily when walking due to head trauma, maybe they wince at different intervals and tentatively touch a part of their body in pain, blood runs down the side of their faces, Ocean and Constance had their ribs shattered when the cart crashed, making them spit blood because the broken bones impaled their lungs…

and since Karnak is controlling them during the choreography, they have no choice but to dance and perform like some kind of fucked up puppets, and despite their movements and tones, their faces reflect expressions of pain from their numerous injuries.

now, picture this: they could have a moment where they fight against the control because they’re tired, and everything hurts, but they’re not strong enough. they have no choice but to go along with the choreography.

and then, after the song is over, whoever’s it may be, there’s this moment of silence…and then one of them just collapses, shuddering in agony, trying to fight through the waves of pain washing over them. the others go to their aid, but they start to falter, too, weighed down by their wounds. they’re all exhausted, mentally and physically, and they just want to rest. dying was bad, but this is worse. this is torture.

imagine, like, Mischa finally snapping. he goes at Karnak in a fit of agonized rage, trying to destroy the stupid animatronic fortune teller that’s keeping them from the afterlife. he’s screaming at Karnak, and Ocean approaches slowly, trying to get his attention, trying to tell him to stop, but even she can’t ignore how badly she hurts.

blood gushes from her lips as her ribs become a sort of bear trap in her chest, crushing her from the inside, and she would have collapsed if it weren’t for Mischa abandoning his outrage to catch her. they both still go down, but Mischa softens the blow. in his bloody hands, Ocean looks so small and vulnerable, her broken body wracked in trembles, and it just makes Mischa so fucking angry because this isn’t fair, none of this is fair. they don’t deserve this.

and then, in this weak, impossibly fragile voice, Ocean O’Connell Rosenberg, the girl who always seems to keep going no matter what, who hates doing nothing, who just wants to work and work and work, croaks out, “i’m so tired.”

Mischa breaks. Ocean does, too, and the two of them embrace with all the strength they can muster as they sob, sharing this mutual sensation of hopeless pain.

one of them opens an arm, beckoning the others to join them, and the others oblige. even Jane. if they can’t manage to walk over, they crawl.

these poor, injured children huddle together, finally putting their arguments aside for a moment to find temporary solace in the arms of one another, supporting each other with their own bodies because they’re too weak to support themselves. they can only find comfort in each other now. after everything their deaths have taken from them, they still have that, at least.

#don’t tag as ship #i think that would be pretty neat :)#yes ocean and mischa get the spotlight in this because they’re my faves #rtc #ride the cyclone #ocean o’connell rosenberg #noel gruber #mischa bachinski #ricky potts #jane doe #penny lamb #constance blackwood #the amazing karnak

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creapysummer · 1 year

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Things I loved about Some Theater Company's production of Ride the Cyclone

-i didn't have super high hopes because it was at this tiny community theater in the middle of nowhere but OH MY GOD IT WAS INCREDIBLE

-the cast came around and told everyone that there was going to be a loud noise at the end so that no one would be too shocked which i thought was very considerate

-before the show started the cast (minus jane) was kind of milling about in character and it was so much fun to watch

-mischa was just on his phone the entire time and at one point before it started noel tried to take it from him and mischa flipped him off

-ocean was dragging constance to see a bunch of posters

-like literally dragging

-mischa and ricky were kind of like bro-ing together it was funny

-ocean and noel were standing in like the exact same stance while bickering with eachother it was so funny

-V I R G I L

-karnak was really cool and funny

-uranium suit was so good omg i got chills at the build yourself a funeral pyre part

-when karnak showed them the other side they all RAN for it

-noel was physically restraining ocean to get her not to go through

-talia was playing in the background during mischa's catchphrase

-i might be wrong but i'm pretty sure when karnak first started controlling them that mischa tried to fight against it

-when jane showed up was just sdjsjms

-jane looked kind of like a ragdoll but had more the posture and mannerisms of a porcelain doll it was really cool

-during her catchphrase she literally had constance in a chokehold and was just kind of like petting her head

-constance started crying

-ricky almost tried to comfort jane after her introduction

-all the girls had bows around their necks and ocean and constance's were black but jane's was red

-"ohmigosh ricky you can speak!!" "that's NOTHING watch this." *little tiny jump*

-mischa was so happy for ricky when he started talking

-"HOW CAN SHE HAVE SPEECH FOR THIS⁉️⁉️" like bro was furious

-during oceans monolog literally no one was paying attention

-like the entire choir (minus jane) just went to the back of the stage and started playing rock paper scissors

-mischa called ocean a bitch in the middle of her speech

-at the end of her speech the choir faked clapped for her and when karnak said she was conceding they started full on applauding

-AAAA WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS

-the cast came out into the audience sometimes

-virgil and karnak were both chilling in the box together (electricity is real😍)

-ocean needed constance's help to get down from the human pyramid

-when karnak revealed that it was a group vote everyone sort of looked away kind of sympathetic and ocean realized she wouldn't win except for noel he looked right at her and started grinning

-it was my cousins BORTHDAY

-jane was literally constantly trying to hug constance

-"noel i love you!!" and he BOLTED like he tried with all his might to run away from her

-ricky quite literally did not have an attention span bro was always staring off into space and paying no attention to anything

-during the nativity scene noel used his tie to mime hanging himself and then constance grabbed him by the tie and YANKED him forward

-"OR we can just go to the manger JOSEPH😡"

-noel tried yet again to take mischa's phone because he wasn't listening to his monolog

-the monique dress was so pretty omg

-and instead of typical heels she had these kick ass heeled boots

-constance and ocean started slow dancing in noels lament

-when noel and mischa started making out the entire audience started cheering it was so funny

-"that was dope yooo!! 😃😃"

-ocean was so annoyed with noel

-ricky was SO engaged with the improve scenario

-he got very excited when constance brought up doing and/or dealing recreational drugs

-mischa called ocean a bitch several more times. both in ukrainian and english

-he was also like constantly flipping people off

-mischa was trying not to cry when karnak told his past☹️

-collective cheering from the audience when mischa took his shirt off

-talia was so beautifully done omg

-i'm pretty sure that there was also a complete separate actress for talia (who also played virgil i believe?)

-talia's dress was so beautiful

-ocean and constance danced together again

-at the end talia left and mischa ended up hugging noel (he was very confused and noel looked absolutely thrilled)

-noel tried one more time to take mischa's phone but this time he let him

-they all had a group hug instead of just noel and mischa hugging

-noel and mischa still had a one on one hug omg

-oh boy space age bachelor man

-"or i could tell you about the time i was a superhero sex god on a cat planet!!" "😨"

-horrified looks from everyone in the room

-sabm was so wonderfully weird

-oh my god the costume change.

-i don't know how i can describe it besides train conductor meets gay sparkles

-like it actually had a hat that looks like the ones train conductors wear

-also you could totally see his dick

-it reminded me of david bowie in the labyrinth

-during his speech afterwards he was like hiding his dick with the conductors hat

-when jane went "my turn!!" constance literally LEPT into mischa's arms like he was holding her bridal style for a hot second

-tbojd was so good omg it was haunting

-everyone gasped when the flying mechanism started

-the new birthday song ☹️☹️☹️

-happy birthday to hmm hmm and noel tried to finish the song before ocean shut him up

-ocean did the whole 1 2 3 thing then trial off and ricky just jumped in with "4!!"

-jane was so happy aaa

-she was soso excited about savannah with the greenest eyes

-when mischa called noel tragic they hugged again they were literally hugging all the time nischa is real

-ohh constance's monolog ☹️☹️

-this one lady kept laughing while i was trying not to sob

-sugar cloud was so amazing and happy and lovely

-the choreography was so silly

-nischa did the synchronized headbanging

-at the end constance thanked them all

-when ocean was deciding who to vote for everybody froze except for her and karnak

-aaa i almost sobbed

-it's not a game/it's just a ride was soso beautiful

-at the very end they all reached out towards the audience it was so incredible

#i found my new second favorite rtc production #i wish there was a slime tut☹️☹️#it was actually incredible #there was also so much more that i forgot #ride the cyclone #rtc #noel gruber #ricky potts #mischa bachinski #constance blackwood #ocean o'connell rosenberg #jane doe rtc #penny lamb #some theater company

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