#and you’re angry that she probably wouldn’t have taken a way out if she found it

[shorthaltsjester]

begging twitter to stop showing me tweets of people with no reading comprehension misrepresenting things I said but since i was going to make this more in-depth post Anyway .

when i say imogen is better read as a metaphor for generational trauma than she is a metaphor for queerness or chronic pain, i’m not talking about legitimate traits she has as a character. obviously she is queer. obviously she experiences some form of chronic pain (though i would argue her magic better suits chronic illness not pain because she states that it’s Not always painful, but it does always influence how she lives her life).

when i talk about how well she’s understood as a metaphor, i’m talking about when i’m looking at her as a part of a story, as an arc that i am witnessing rather than in the more typical fandom way of this is a fictional person who interacts with exandria as real people do. and that is a fun way to interact with characters, i enjoy it a lot! but when i say imogen (to me, as i for some reason have to clarify on my own blog which implies that these are my own opinions and not absolute fact that needs to be accepted by people on the internet with different experience and opinions than me) is best read as a metaphor for generational trauma, it isn’t a dismissal of her queerness or her illness, it’s just me thinking looking at her from that angle is more compelling.

imogen has been one of my favourite characters and least favourite characters in campaign 3 because i tend to analyse her through a lens of generational trauma and she ends up looking extremely familiar to me as someone with a family that carries their’s heavily which is as comforting as it is frustrating.

for me the main thing that looking at imogen through a queer lens of literary analysis fails to account for is harm. on the one hand - the harm that imogen experiences, not because of how people treat her for who she is, but that exists simply as a factor of her being ruidusborn. on the other hand a the harm that imogen causes. not to say that she is some malicious villain waiting for her chance to harm others, but that there are things about being ruidusborn that very much do incline her towards violence in a way that she might not otherwise be - i think about the conversation after she went nuclear and chet brought up people being scared of her connecting that to her father keeping distance. the only harm that queerness provides comes from society, and that isn’t the case in exandria. even metaphorically, the thing that society fears in ruidusborn people (while it has certainly been exacerbated by centuries of superstition and practices like we saw in zephrah) is a tangible threat. imogen’s magic when not controlled can wipe out a city block, but queerness poses no threat.

that’s why i’m not compelled by imogen’s backstory as a queer metaphor. not because i’m some imodna anti (i very emphatically am not but this fandom kinda makes me wish i was sometimes) or because i think exandria’s lack of homophobia/transphobia means that characters can’t be viewed through a queer lens or that critical role doesn’t contain some of the most compelling queer metaphor i’ve encountered. imogen just isn’t one of those characters, not because she isn’t queer, or because i think her story shouldn’t resonate with queer people, just because i find the generational trauma angle more consistent.

it’s similar with the chronic illness angle, which i will refer to as illness but you’re welcome to emphasise pain, we all have different vocabularies for the experiences we face. but just to give context i’m running off laura’s comparison of imogen’s powers to her own sensory issues and anxiety which while often Lead to pain, fall more into chronic illness in imogen’s context to me. and i do think there’s substantial comparison for imogen’s story as a metaphor for chronic illness, but i think that was much more true earlier in the campaign than it is looking at her from the current context. her beginning motivation being her search for knowledge about her powers really resonated with me as similar to someone experiencing symptoms of chronic illness but who could neither figure out how to treat them or what they were caused by.

but then imogen got more information, specifically about her mother, and her priority became not understanding her powers but understanding her current state as a person - how had she become the person she is, inclusive of her powers but very much emphasising her lack of a mother who became more and more present in the unweaving web of ruidusborn lore. that’s when i was less compelled by the chronic illness reading and more compelled by viewing her as a metaphor for generational trauma. had that not been enough on its own, imogen’s visit to relvin and her recent thoughts on her mother would be enough to convince me.

the part that makes me hesitant about this post is that generational trauma is so intensely linked to the contexts under which it is created and perpetuated. so i can’t really point to specific scenes as evidence of specific things that prove generational trauma is the most compelling and i don’t really want to unload that much of my own experience to clarify my thoughts on a character. but vaguely, i will say that imogen’s relationship with her parents is obviously the clearest source for my reading her as a metaphor for generational trauma. the fact that relvin, the only person in her family without the thing that draws society’s ire, is also the person that she has the most willing anger at is also indicative of this to me. in general, imogen’s rage that so easily transitions into sadness and vice versa comes out a lot in conversations about parents. most recently, i think about ashton’s lovely speech about found family and his distrust about parents and how as they were speaking, laura seemed to be playing imogen as sadly in thought versus months ago when fearnes parents showed up with striking similarities to liliana and imogen’s words of wisdom were let’s hurt them all.

and like. to me that angersadnessvengeancegrief is particularly evocative of the feelings that arise when you are in a family with generational trauma, especially when you are aware of it. because imogen can and has followed the logical steps that have led her and her family to where they are. early on when recounting her relationship with her dad she seemed wistful but understanding of the distance between them. in nearly every encountered with a parental figure imogen seems to be some level of distrusting for the most part, but she’s still holding out hope that her mother will see the good side. and further, there’s the complication of how dire her losing her powers seems to be, and how inextricable her powers are from every aspect of her life. she’s also southern and from a blue collar family. this means nothing except it also means a whole lot.

this is messy and not well organised but if you want a good essay you’re gonna have to pay me money for it but tldr: i say things i believe on my This Is My Opinion Blog and i don’t think i need to explain my thoughts to strangers on the internet but this was already half written in my drafts and if people are gonna shit on my opinions please at least do it in good faith and shit on my actual opinions not the ones you’ve decided i have.

#it’s just the. your mother leaves and you know nothing you don’t even know that she Chose to leave you just know she’s gone #and your father is there in every way he can be which isn’t Enough #and then. you do the same thing your mom did and you find the answers she found but. you’re finding a way out of it . not Completely . #and not Perfectly. but enough that you’re angry that the world wasn’t kind enough to her to give her a way out #and you’re angry that she probably wouldn’t have taken a way out if she found it #and you’re just. getting hurt by her over and over and you’re putting your life and friends at risk over and over in the thin Hope #that this time when she hears you out she’ll actually Hear you #also . just in general. i do not worship the ground of the mn campaign for anyone to accuse me of thinking cr characters can’t be queercoded #i’m stronger than you . i see the queerness of fjorester which only people with real reading comprehension understand . #anyway this is all light hearted if i was actually like . Mad this would be like. one sentence long #imogen temult #cr3 #critical role #the temults #cr meta #listen man. imogen is personal to me i hate her i love her i want to hit her i want to hug her i can’t look at her i wanna study her #my posts

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

 Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 1,699

You’re stuck on Berk. You get by. (Httyd1)

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse

Next>

You groaned, stumbling back unsteadily as you got up onto your feet, staring at the strangely clothed people around you. Some of them, the ones that weren’t too busy marching to and fro down the path, stared back.

You rubbed your butt, sore form where you had been thrown suddenly, roughly and randomly onto some clearly well-traveled wooden planking. 

“Uh, Hello?” You muttered, half to yourself, as you ogled at horned helmets and worn fur boots. It was like you had landed in some odd ren faire full of odd-smelling bodybuilders. 

As people began to clear, you wandered further down the path. You found it difficult as you struggled to weave past the hurriedly rushing crowd, though eventually you settled on a woman who seemed generally well-mannered if not a bit intimidating in the way she towered over your nervous form, deciding to stop and try and ask for directions. 

“Excuse me,” You started anxiously, “Where am I? Do you know?”

As she responded, quite irritatedly and animatedly, you found that you didn’t understand her at all.

Your arrival and integration into the general populace was somewhat seamless. There were so many people on Berk that it wasn’t hard to blend in, not after the initial confusion, and after you’d lost your odd garb. 

And it was Berk, as you’d found out the first night, as the hearty seaside village had been suddenly and violently attacked by a loud entourage of angry, fire-breathing reptiles, and all of the puzzle pieces had fallen into place. 

Initially appreciative, you’d taken to your new, schoolless life with gusto. You had more pressing things to worry about, after all. Like not dying. But then came the pressing realization that there was no internet. It was awfully boring with no internet.

And if you’d ever gotten home, you dreaded all the time you would probably have to spend in school making up for the lost time. You were already part way through the school year. The thought of having to do it all over again gave you the hives.

You had only spent a little while panicking as the lines between fiction and reality blended together, rocking your world, though that was probably attributed more in large to the fact that you had a hard time panicking when your life was in mortal danger. 

Either way, you carried on well enough. After a short run in with homelessness, a couple living by the grazing fields had been nice enough to take you into their stables and home and feed you and clothe you and teach you their language, helping you just enough until you had your sea legs and could pay them back in kind. In effect, you were their live-in maid, but you were fine with that, as long as you were well fed and clothed and had a roof over your head.

Unfortunately, you weren’t very good at any of the jobs you picked, though you weren’t any less than mediocre, so it was manageable. You couldn’t fight, as you discovered after many days spent being smacked onto your ass via wooden sword, but you were a decent delivery girl and an alright shepard, shiphand and maid, though you usually stuck to delivery girl and salesperson on account of the fact that you just weren’t that strong.

It was all enough to keep your head barely above water.

It was a lot harder than you’d thought it would be, living on Berk. You did a lot for very little. But that’s just the way it was there, it seemed. 

And through all of your mis and fortune, you settled into the unwavering decision to mind your business and let the plot continue on as it should. After all, everything would turn out fine in the end, wouldn’t it?

You sighed, dropping your load, a set of newly repaired wooden oars, against one of the many house walls lining the wood pathway, you brushed the bottom hem of your tunic, clearing away invisible dust there. It was the kind that you knew wasn’t there but couldn’t help but to imagine after walking into a spiderweb earlier, the phantom strings having a strong impact on your nerves. 

You bemoaned your choice of outfit, thinking you’d have been less irritated if you’d just have worn a skirt today. The feeling would be gone if you could have just taken the offending article off.

Considering that most of the women on this island wore pants underneath and heavy layers of wrappings and furs throughout, you found the act to be more performative than anything. 

It was an idea that often had your generous hosts disgruntled. But, they weren’t your parents.

You stretched your arms up into the air, huffing as you feel your back crack, admiring the darkening sky and feeling a light chill run down your back. You blinked wearily up into the sky.

You tipped the oars over from where they were leaned against a wall, trying to leverage them back onto your shoulder, eyeing the deserted path forwards. It wouldn't do to linger, especially this late. 

“Hopefully there’s some stew left at home,” You whined to yourself in your native tongue, wobbling unsteadily forward as you tried to regain your balance. 

As you did, you spot someone quickly rushing towards you from around a bend. You stumbled, startled, causing you to slip as he attempted to brake, both of you falling messily onto the floor. 

Your two oars clattered across the ground and your knees stung as you attempted to get back onto your knees.

“Sorry, sorry,” The boy said as he clumsily gathered his effects, a worn old journal and a long charcoal stick. You just rub your head, squinting dazedly as you feel the scrapes on your palms.

“It’s, uh, It’s fine,” you stutter, waving your hands out in front of you, pushing back up onto your feet. 

You didn’t know it until later, but that was your first meeting with Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third.

“Here,” You said, “Found it sitting on one of the boulders… by the bridge. The, uh, the rock in front of the docks.” 

You peered up over the Forge counter from where you’d, again, slipped, feeling quite proud of your almost rhyme. Then hit your head on the counter. You pointedly ignored the bump in your head, staring up at Hiccup who is standing awkwardly at the window sans coat, plus apron.

After a moment of silence, during which you became exceedingly unsure of yourself, you asked;

“It is yours, right?” You hesitated. He just stared at you like a deer in headlights. 

“I saw some of the drawings in it,” A blueprint of something with a lot of knives, some chicken scratch, what looked like a cannon, “It was nice.”

He looked really embarrassed.

“I didn’t mean to look,” You corrected hastily, “But it was open, and no one was around, and I thought I ought to return it.” 

You wondered why he wasn’t speaking. You knew you still had an accent. You felt a little self conscious about it.

“...Thanks.” He said awkwardly, after a while. He looked constipated. Maybe he was.

“Well, okay. Bye,” You said as you got up, brushing the dust off your knees. You wore a skirt today. 

You turned to leave, glancing back for just a second. You’re a little confused by the whole encounter. 

You couldn't help but to look at him oddly as you left, making a beeline across the clearing, hoping soon to escape the uncomfortable atmosphere and find cover in the crowds of Vikings lurking just beyond the next few houses.

You regretted picking it up, now. His journal probably would have been fine left well enough alone.

You’d never been the most observant. 

But Hiccup… He was kind of weird. 

You caught him staring a lot. Many times, many places. It was very convenient, to the point where you thought he might’ve been orchestrating it.

You brushed it off, however. You’d barely shared more than a few words, after all, so why would he?

Once you put your mind to it, it was easy to ignore.

You stood still at the base of a hill, a pail full of water and rags in both hands as you stared up at the Chief's house, standing large and proud, thankful that, finally, the dragon raids were over. 

Grass shifted gently around your feet as draconic wings beat above, sending gusts of wind down your way.

You stumbled across this moment by accident, watching as Vikings crowded around Hiccup enthusiastically, giving him their congratulations as he steadied himself on his new leg.

You remembered this moment from the end of the first movie. If you were remembering it correctly, Astrid was supposed to punch Hiccup in the shoulder and then they were supposed to kiss, weren’t they? 

You waited as she walked up to him. There it was. 

You grin as he reeled back, rubbing his arm. 

Astrid leaned forward. But, you found that instead of looking at her, you and Hiccup meet eyes. The other Vikings are too occupied with each other to notice, you thought.

You couldn’t help but to feel a little confused, a smile falling in favor of a bewildered look, as you considered him. Stiff shoulders under his fur coat and tunic. You were too far away to make out any hard details. 

The moment was broken a second later as Hiccup’s attention was drawn away by the Chief clapping him on the shoulder. He stumbled forwards.

You follow soon after, sighing and turning to look down over the rest of Berk, careful this time not to trip as you usually did along this slope. You should get going. You had some laundry to dump, after all.

 You couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. It would have been cool to experience something from the movie. But it can’t be helped.

Whether he got a kiss or not isn’t that important, and in the end it had nothing to do with you. 

By the time he looked back down, you were gone.

#how to train your dragon #hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #reader insert #httyd #x reader #my writing #fem reader #female reader

[rootsofdread]

Hi! Could i request Ace, Dwight, Deathslinger, Wraith and Spirit with an opposite role reader, whose life before the fog is almost identical to theirs, except for places, names and the outcome? Doesn't really matter if it's romantic or platonic, i'll take anythingggg

Dwight Fairfield:

Dwight, honestly, was utterly shocked when he found out you were…normal before you were a killer. No, he knows most killers were relatively normal before they were taken here — but you were normal like he was normal. You worked an office job and had dismissive coworkers. You had to go to office parties where no one talked to you. No wonder you wanted to kill people. But in all honesty — he feels strangely comfortable with you. You’re someone he can relate to, there’s no one else really similar to him here, everyone else is far too interesting. He finds it a bit funny to try to chat with you like you’re both standing around the water cooler…even if he’s afraid it might get him killed for bringing back old memories.

Ace Visconti:

Honestly, Ace can totally see how gambling lead to murder. He had his fair share of threats of knee-breaking, he knows at some point, someone in the same boat as him would’ve turned to murder to solve their problems. That’s not for him, but hey, each to their own. He’s more interested in sharing trade secrets with a fellow gambler, likelihoods, percentages, even ways to cheat. Even if he can’t exactly gamble as easily in the fog, it’s still his passion, and now he has you to share it with. Sometimes he likes to make little bets with you during your trials together, typically gambling with his life. He knows you enjoy a good game as much as he does.

Philip Ojomo / The Wraith:

After learning you had gone through exactly what he’s been through, Philip could never bring himself to kill or even hurt you. He’d heard your story from another survivor under their breath, when he was skulking around behind them. He wasn’t sure what to do with the information, and he began avoiding you where he could so he didn’t have to hurt you. Plausible deniability, if he never saw you, he couldn’t very well sacrifice you. Sometimes, you caught his eyes while he was injuring or downing someone else, and you could tell he knew something about you — and you could tell that you had his sympathy. It takes him a while to want to get closer to you, but you know he loves you. You know he always feels safe around you.

Rin Yamaoka / The Spirit:

Rin is not known for getting very close to other killers, let alone any of the survivors. She keeps to herself. She had heard your story from another killer — you were just like her. You were bullied and disdained by your family, too. She was never sure, exactly, how to approach you. She knows you're probably just as upset and angry as she is all the time, and she knows she doesn't like being approached. For a while, she just left you notes where she knew you'd see them, saying the two of you are kindred spirits, you're one in the same and she understands your pain. She seemed very happy when you came to her after exchanging notes to get to know her better.

Caleb Quinn / The Deathslinger:

When Caleb hears that you were just like him before you were taken, a rough-and-tumble bounty hunter, he knows the two of you will get along perfectly. He had never paid you much attention before, but knowing you had lived a life of crime just like he did, and had someone you hated more than anything…he felt a sense of obligation to get to know you. He’s missed his posse for a long time, and you’re the first step to getting something like that back. He constantly sought you out and told you that you were welcome to come with him on his hunts. You two are almost never seen apart, always lounging around together and ranting about your arch-nemeses. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

#inbox #dwight fairfield #ace visconti #philip ojomo #rin yamaoka #caleb quinn #gender neutral reader #killer reader #survivor reader #dbd imagines #dbd x reader #dbd x you #dwight fairfield x reader #ace visconti x reader #philip ojomo x reader #the wraith x reader #rin yamaoka x reader #the spirit x reader #caleb quinn x reader #the deathslinger x reader

[zeke-in-devildom]

Dissonance - Chapter 4: A Promise and a Pact

They were all gathered in the student council room. As he stood next to Lord Diavolo, slightly apart from his brothers, Lucifer found himself wishing that it were always so easy. Mammon had not tried to ditch this introduction in favor of his latest get-rich-quick scheme, Levi had dragged himself out of his room, and even Belphie was present - albeit leaning heavily against Beel with his eyes closed as they waited for Barbatos to open the portal that would bring Lilith’s descendant home. It was a promise several thousand years in the making. 

No matter how far apart we may be, no matter how much time passes, even if someday you’re no longer yourself…

I’ll never forget you. And I’ll always pray for your happiness…always.

…I love you, Lilith.

Lucifer knew that Ezekiel was not Lilith. Of course he knew that, but it did nothing to diminish the promise that he’d made to his dying sister. Lilith would have loved Ezekiel. She would have loved every single human that came as a result of the happy life she’d gotten to live, among the humans she had been so fond of as an angel. Even if she was gone, one of her children was still alive. Lucifer would make sure Ezekiel was safe and happy. He owed it to her. 

Lost momentarily in his own thoughts, it was the increase in hushed excitement from his brothers that brought the Morningstar back into the moment. He held his breath as the familiar swirl of one of Barbatos’ portals appeared in the center of the room. A swell of emotion overcame him, although his face remained stoic as ever. The human appeared from the twisting darkness, stumbling a few disoriented steps into the room and that thrill of excitement quickly gave way to worry. Something was not right. Lucifer’s brows furrowed as he started to take a step forward even as he heard Asmo’s delighted squeal at the first sight of the human morph into a shriek as Ezekiel crumpled to the floor.

Heart leaping into his throat, Lucifer and Mammon were kneeling at the human’s side before his other brothers had even thought to move. Diavolo and Barbatos had moved almost as quickly, blocking the others from crowding too close to the distressed human, Mammon gently tried to restrain Ezekiel’s hands from causing harm.

Lucifer slapped Mammon’s hands away as the contact made the human worse. He ignored his brother’s squawk of protest. The first-born should have known this would not be as easy as he wanted. It was not even that he did not know this was a possibility. Even normal humans could react unpredictably to crossing between realms, and Ezekiel was not an ordinary human. One psychic human might be perfectly fine in the Devildom, while another could certainly end up uncomfortable, or one like Ezekiel might find it completely inhospitable. 

“Oi, Lucifer, what’s wrong with our human?!” He could feel Mammon’s mounting panic as they listened to the labored wheezing that came from Ezekiel even as the human fell unconscious. That wouldn’t do at all. More frenzied emotions would only contribute further to the problem, the human was overwhelmed enough as it was, without adding other emotions to the turmoil.

“Silence Mammon, I will handle this, he will be fine. Go take the others home.” Lucifer needed to get this situation back under control, and quickly.

“No way! We aren’t leaving him like this! How dare you tell us to go!” Belphie looked more awake and angry than Lucifer could recall in recent memory, and Beel honestly looked devastated to see their human in such distress. Asmo was wailing incomprehensibly, and Levi and Satan had taken their demon forms. Levi appeared to be nearly as hysterical as Asmo, while Satan’s tail was lashing back and forth in agitation, his eyes intently staring at the unfolding scene. He had probably already figured out the problem.

“Mammon, now.” Lucifer cut him off before he could add to Belphie’s protest. Mammon must have seen or heard something in his elder brother, because he closed his mouth into a grim line and moved to help drag his younger brothers from the room.

“We should move him somewhere more comfortable for now.” Barbatos’ unperturbed voice drew Lucifer’s attention back to the human. Ezekiel was still unconscious, his breathing was still extremely labored, and he still trembled, but his muscles were no longer spasming uncontrollably. Lucifer found himself hesitating for a moment. What if he touched him and the human deteriorated further? “I think he will be okay if you pick him up now, Lucifer.”

Shaking off the panic that had momentarily paralyzed him, Lucifer gingerly picked Ezekiel up with one arm hooked under his knees and the other supporting the human’s back as he held him cradled against his chest protectively. Even discounting his demonic strength, lifting Ezekiel from the floor was far too easy, he weighed considerably less than Lucifer thought he should. Looking at him closer now, it was clear there were dark circles under his eyes, his face had an alarming pallor, and he could feel how the human’s heart was currently hammering erratically. 

Barbatos and Lord Diavolo led the way to Diavolo’s office that was near the student council room and silently directed Lucifer to set the human onto a couch. The first-born frowned as he settled his human down with as much care as he could. Ezekiel was still wheezing and sweat was now causing his dark bangs to stick to his forehead. Removing a glove he gently touched Ezekiel’s cheek, his skin was clammy and cold beneath his fingertips.

“I was afraid this might happen.” Diavolo crossed his arms and stared down at Lucifer and the exchange student with a worried frown. 

This was an unmitigated disaster for the exchange program if the human could not survive in the Devildom. They would be forced to choose another candidate if Ezekiel wasn’t stabilized, and quickly.

“There must be something we can do. We can’t just send him back, you know what happens!” As much as it galled him, Lucifer knew that he almost sounded like he was pleading, but he was desperate. There was no way that he or his brothers would part with the human, but if the Devildom was killing him…

“I suppose there are some things that could be done.” Diavolo mulled over something for a few moments before looking at Lucifer with an uncharacteristically serious expression. “The problem right now is that his aura is not strong enough, or rather not trained enough, to withstand the Devildom’s natural magical fluctuations, or the auras of so many powerful demons.” 

“Forgive me, young Master. I had not realized that he would be so drastically affected simply by entering the Devildom. When I visited him previously in the human world he was able to mask any physical discomfort my presence caused him. I would even say to an impressive degree. There was no indication that he would be this badly overwhelmed.” Barbatos did actually look somewhat remorseful at this outcome.

“It is alright Barbatos, I should have anticipated this and planned accordingly,” Diavolo looked at the human with a guilty expression. He certainly never wanted to cause harm to one of the exchange students.

“So we must find a way to bolster his aura, correct?” Lucifer felt himself filling with a grim determination. This was a problem that he could figure out. He could actually do something to help his human.

“Correct. The fastest, and safest, way to do so would be in the same fashion that sorcerers and witches increase their own power. Ezekiel should make a pact with a demon. Not just any demon will do. The amount of protection would correlate directly with how powerful the demon he formed a pact with. The goal is for the demon’s aura to overlap his own to act as a buffer or shield from other auras and stray magic.” Barbatos explained softly.

“A lesser demon would not protect him from more powerful demons. Obviously the more powerful the demon he makes a pact with, the better.” It was logical. Diavolo seemed deep in thought as he further contemplated the issue.

“Just so, my Lord. As the second eldest, a pact with Mammon should offer sufficient protection so that Ezekiel can live and function in the Devildom during his stay in the exchange program. He may still feel some discomfort around especially powerful demons or an excessive number of them, but it should be manageable. I am sure Mammon will be willing to form a pact with this human given the circumstances. Shall I fetch him?” Barbatos smiled politely, waiting for Lucifer and Diavolo’s decision.

“No. I will make the pact myself.” Lucifer decided quickly. 

“If that is truly your wish.” If Barbatos was surprised by the declaration he did not show it.

“Are you certain?” Diavolo on the other hand seemed mildly troubled. “I understand your attachment to this human, but to make a pact with him? Are you truly prepared to call this human you barely know your master?”

“Yes. Mammon cannot protect him sufficiently, I can. As an exchange student he cannot simply avoid interacting with you and he will face hordes of demons inside the school each and every day, Lord Diavolo. As you may recall, it was you who charged me with his safety and well-being during his stay in the Devildom. This is my responsibility. His comfort has to be a top priority.”

“Very well, if that is truly your decision Lucifer, but he must consent to the pact. I will place a protective ward around this room to block outside magic. That should be enough to alleviate his symptoms temporarily. When he regains consciousness you must form a pact with him, or he cannot stay.” There was finality to Diavolo’s words and Lucifer did not doubt them for a moment as Diavolo turned and left the room. Barbatos bowed slightly before slipping quietly from the room and closing the door to give them privacy. 

Lucifer’s gaze softened as he turned his eyes back to Ezekiel. The human looked so frail. He remembered holding Lilith in his arms as she was dying, the Devildom air choking her with each breath. The parallels were uncanny, but also cemented his decision. It was noticeable to him as the ward slipped into place. The difference was almost immediate. He reached his hand up to gently push Ezekiel’s damp bangs out of his face. The human’s breathing and heartbeat were already steadier, and color was slowly returning to his face.

A few minutes slowly ticked away, with Lucifer silently observing his human, trying to remain calm and patient. Finally Ezekiel stirred, brow furrowing as his face twisted into a faint grimace, hands twitching before reaching one up to press against his temple with a soft hiss.

“What happened?” Violet eyes finally cracked open, the human’s voice hoarse as he struggled to sit up.

“You fainted, rest.” Lucifer had gently laid a hand against Ezekiel’s shoulder to force him to lie back, but retracted his hand when the human flinched away from his touch. 

“Sorry, please don’t - don’t touch me.” It was understandable that he was afraid, and Lucifer was certain that being touched by him was probably very unpleasant currently.

“I am afraid we haven’t much time, so let me be brief, you are in the Devildom to participate in an exchange program Lord Diavolo has established as a means of fostering peaceful relations between the three realms - the Devildom, the Celestial Realm, and the Human Realm.”

“Have…have I finally lost it? This is a dream, right? It has to be. This can’t be happening right now.” The hysterical edge to the human’s voice as Lucifer watched his hands move to grip his hair made something inside the fallen angel ache. He hated knowing he was the cause of Ezekiel’s distress, but this was for the good of his brothers, and the good of his human too.

“No, you haven’t lost it. When you arrived you had a violent reaction to the magic of the Devildom and to the demons present. I am truly sorry that we didn’t anticipate your needs appropriately, Ezekiel. This room has a temporary barrier to shield you, but that is not something that can be maintained for long, more permanent protections must be put into place. ” Lucifer reached up and grabbed Ezekiel’s forearms, making sure not to touch his skin directly. “Please stop, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Why me?” The way those vibrant eyes glossed over with unshed tears, the way his voice wavered, so vulnerable, made Lucifer sigh.

“It has to be you. Now listen, my brothers and I will be protecting you from now on while you’re in the Devildom. I am Lucifer, Avatar of Pride, and eldest of my brothers - I need you to make a pact with me. It is the only way I can shield you from the auras of other demons. You are far too vulnerable as you are now.” 

“A pact?” The human’s face scrunched up, then twisted into something both afraid and defiant. “I am not making a pact with a demon. It might not be worth anything, but I am not giving my soul away.”

“It doesn’t have to be your soul. A pact can be made for something else.” Lucifer was glad there was some fire in his human, and the boy was shrewd.

“What do you want?” Ezekiel was still guarded, still wary. That was good.

“We need you to cooperate if there’s to be any hope of Diavolo’s vision for peace to come to fruition. Promise me you will work hard towards this goal, and that you will behave with dignity befitting a representative of humankind.”

“That’s really all you want?” Lucifer couldn’t truly blame him for being skeptical.

“If it puts your mind at ease at all, the other human exchange student has pacts with seventy-two demons.”

“Seventy-two?” Ezekiel’s stunned expression was almost precious.

“So, do we have a deal?” 

“…Okay.”

“Good boy.” Lucifer’s red eyes glinted as a smug grin took over his features.

#obey me #obey me zeke #obey me ezekiel jada pendergast #obey me mc #obey me oc #obey me barbatos #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me dissonance

[ouatsqincorrect]

After Emma and Henry are sent away because of Pan's curse, and the rest are all taken back to the EF, we see that Regina's obviously upset about it all (the sleeping curse, burying her heart, etc.) . I believe that after not putting herself under the sleeping curse, she spends the next year going through emotional hell. (I'm talking sleepless nights, dreams of reuniting with Emma and Henry only to wake up and realise that she's still in the EF, distraught over missing Henry's birthday for the first time etcetera...). But from all of this heartbreak, she forms a bond with Snow and David, on a far more deeper level than what their relationship already was. The three of them all know how absolutely heartbreaking it feels to give up your child, and because of this, the Charmings spend the year helping Regina through the pain.

This is just a headcanon of mine/me asking you for your own thoughts to add on to this, if you have any. In what other ways does Regina suffer from the loss of Emma and Henry? How are Snow and David there for Regina?

oh anon I’m so glad you asked this. it’s one of my favorite things about them

we see in the actual show that regina’s relationship with snow and david changes immensely during that missing year in the EF. even without their memories, there’s this striking difference between how they acted around each other before pan’s curse and after. and honestly, I don’t think this was an accident. I think somewhere, deep in their consciousnesses, they were aware that the days of fighting and being angry about the past between them were over

and it’s because the instant emma and henry crossed that town line, the three of them were the only family they had left. it’s why regina agreed to go with them back to the castle, and it’s why snow stopped regina from burying her own heart in the woods, and it’s probably why it was just…easier to forgive and move on, you know? why ruin the only family you have left?

plus, you’re right. now they all had something in common: they had each lost a child. and besides neal, they were the only ones around who had experienced that kind of thing so recently

the difference between them though, was that snow could lean on david and vice versa. but regina had to say goodbye to emma too. the person she wanted to lean on was long gone

(regina’s pain during that year is what made snow and david realize she had fallen for emma)

one of them would walk past regina’s room at night, and she’d be calling out for henry and emma in her sleep. sometimes, if it didn’t seem like she was in pain, they’d let her sleep through it. but there were nights when she’d be almost screaming, and snow would go in, carefully wake her up, and hold her until she fell back asleep (when david found her like that, he’d go and get snow. he already begun to have some suspicions about regina’s past, and definitely didn’t want to trigger anything while she was barely awake)

about a month in, david found regina asleep on a chaise, empty potion bottles all around showing she had clearly been trying to figure out a way back (something they caught her ruminating over pretty often) and he picked her up, carried her to her room, and tucked her in. it was the first time he felt truly worried that she wouldn’t be able to move past this (snow had been worried since the beginning)

when henry’s birthday came around, regina locked herself in her room. snow made her some dinner and put it outside the door in hopes that she would eat something. and later on, after spending the entire day by herself, regina knocked on snow and david’s door and ended up crying in their arms for a good thirty minutes

they didn’t talk about this when they finally got their memories back, and they don’t talk about it until years later, after emma and regina are together, and regina feels the need to thank them because who knows if she’d still be here if she hadn’t had snow and david during that year

regina says in the show that the reason she found to keep going was destroying zelena, but I don’t think for a second that that was it. snow and david were, without a doubt, her reason to keep going

#regina mills #snow white #david nolan #david/snow/regina #headcanons

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

The Same Page Part 4/?

Part 4 is finally here, enjoy!

Warnings: panic attack, I think that’s it. I’m not big on editing so there’s probably some mistakes.

Synopsis: you let your anger override your fear, and John is there to help.

Same Page Masterlist:

You didn’t dream the rest of the night.

When you awoke, you found that your anger was just as potent and alive that it had been in the middle of the night.

Mycroft was asleep in the chair beside your bed, Sherlock slumbering on your bed right by your side.

You knew how hard they were working to make you feel safe, but that didn’t change how much they had lied to you in the past two years. You weren’t ready to let that go just yet.

Your shaking fingers found your phone, and you pressed John’s number, relieved when he answered right away.

You got straight to the point.

“I need you.”

John didn’t hesitate.

“Where are you?”

“Mycroft’s.” You lowered your voice when the man in question stirred. “I can’t be here. With them. Not right now. Please come get me.”

“I’m on my way.”

…

John was nervous, not a feeling he was incredibly used to. He had faced down murderers, terrorists, basically every form taken by the scum of the earth, and yet none of that had prepared him for what had happened in his life the past two years.

As if losing his best friend to suicide wasn’t bad enough, he had to watch you, the girl who had become like a little sister to him, spiral into a depression that nearly destroyed you, and nearly destroyed him to watch.

And now that the person who had caused all that pain—albeit for a good reason—was finally back, he knew you had to be just as angry as him—if not more. That wasn’t something he was used to. He almost never saw you angry—he was always the hothead at Baker Street, never you.

But this was different.

You slid into the car the second John slowed to a stop in Mycroft’s driveway.

“Do they know you’re leaving?”

“Just drive.”

John hesitated. “They’re going to-“

“John. Drive.” He saw your clenched fists, your narrowed eyes, and your tense jaw, and knew that he had never seen you this angry before. It wasn’t something he was about to mess with. He stepped on the gas and the two of you journeyed away from Mycroft’s house.

“What happened?” John asked after several minutes of tense silence. Something had to have made you snap like this.

“I realized I was the only one,” you weren’t looking at John, your gaze directed out the window.

John frowned, “Not the only one. Only a handful of people knew-“

“The only Holmes.”

Oh.

“I’m sure they thought-“

“Mycroft was the one who told me the news. About—about the suicide,” you spat the word out, your teeth gritted in anger. “He watched me fall apart day after day for two years-“ your voice suddenly caught, your anger giving way to tears. “And my mum and dad…they knew, they knew all of it, and they let Mycroft lie to me. They lied to me,” this time when your voice broke off, you didn’t bother trying to start speaking again. The tears had overwhelmed you, and John watched helplessly as you cried into your hands next to him.

John pulled into the parking lot next to a cafe that you both liked, and he leaned over your armrest and wrapped his arms around your shaking frame.

“I’m so sorry.”

…

“I’m sure she’s alright.”

“Alright? Sherlock, you don’t understand, she hasn’t left this house in-“ Mycroft broke off, turning away from his brother to continue scouring your room for evidence to your whereabouts.

Another thing Sherlock wasn’t used to: being the calm one. But perhaps Mycroft was right, perhaps he wasn’t grasping the seriousness of the situation, because he wasn’t used to you being like this, not being able to care for yourself. You had always been rather independent, and Sherlock was all but certain that your grief wouldn’t have robbed you of that quality.

But perhaps he just didn’t understand you. He never had, not really.

But you always understood him. You were a quiet girl, so when Sherlock wanted someone to wow with his observations, you were a perfect listener, and when he went quiet for days on end, intent on his work, you would curl up on the sofa across from him and crack open a book, the two of you lapsing into comfortable silences.

You didn’t have his kind of intelligence, but you loved to listen to his ramblings about whatever case he was on, and every once in a while you would give him an angle that he hadn’t thought of. You weren’t a partner-in-crime the way John was, but you were good company, and you were very patient with him, a quality not found in most people Sherlock met.

But more than any of that, you were his baby sister, and while he had never completely grasped average human sentiment, he knew that he would rather die than see harm come to you. He wanted to see you safe and happy, the way you had been two years ago before Moriarty had robbed you of both.

“Sherlock!”

Sherlock snapped back into focus at his brother’s outburst.

“What?”

“Would you please just focus? I can’t have you distracted, not with her missing.”

Sherlock sighed impatiently.

“We don’t know for certain she’s missing. Just because she isn’t in the house doesn’t mean she’s lost. Have you tried John?”

“Yes. He doesn’t answer.”

“Well then there is your answer. He would have answered unless she asked him not to.”

Mycroft nodded. He may have been more accustomed to you in the past two years, but Sherlock knew John.

…

“That’s the third time he’s called.” John sounded almost worried. You didn’t care.

“I know, John. Just ignore him.”

The two of you had gone inside the cafe, and John was sipping on a cup of coffee while you picked at a muffin.

“I know you’re angry at him, but he’s going to be worried sick about you.”

You didn’t bother with a response to this.

John sighed, “So what now?”

You look up at him, biting your lip. You really hadn’t thought any of this out.

“I don’t know, I guess. I just needed some space.”

“You’re going to have to face him. Both of them.”

“Can’t I just stay with you for a little while?”

John hesitated. He didn’t think it was a good idea, but he also knew how stubborn you could be. If he denied you, you might just push harder.

“Alright. For a bit.”

You smiled at him, and the two of you fell into silence for a while.

“They care about you.”

You were surprised by John’s sudden change in demeanor. His eyes were like laser beams, hyper focused on you, and his sudden analysis made you squirm.

“I know that. But they-“

“What would you have done, in their condition?”

You stared back at John, meeting his gaze.

“Why are you asking me this? Don’t I have a right to be hurt by what they did?”

“Of course you do. But this, what you’re doing now, isn’t going to solve anything. You know that they only acted to protect you, and even though their actions hurt you, their intentions were out of love. You trying to hurt them back won’t fix what’s happened.”

You shake your head, “I’m not trying to hurt them back. I just…I don’t think I can-“

“You don’t want to face them, I get it. But you have to. They’re your brothers, and they care for you. Forgive them.”

You stared at John, and he stared back. While your resolve seemed to be wavering, his was rock solid.

You hated what Sherlock and Mycroft had done to you.

But you couldn’t find it in you to hate them.

Your resolve cracked, and with it, your anger.

A smile crept across your face.

“And I suppose punching Sherlock was going to change something?”

A soft chuckle escaped John’s lips.

“No, no it wasn’t. But it was fun.”

You laughed, the first real laugh in…

Well, in a while.

“Was he surprised? When you hit him?”

John’s laugh grew to a full out belly-laugh.

“It was the most picturesque example of cartoon shock, you should have seen-“

John froze. You weren’t laughing anymore, not really. You had a smile on your face, but it seemed frozen, almost a grimace. John knew that look, that polite, forced smile of yours. He hated it when you used it on him.

“What’s with the face? What’s wrong, are you ok?” He didn’t want you hiding anything from him.

“I-um,” you gulped, blinking rapidly. “I think I-I want to call Mycroft now.”

John felt a mixture of worry and relief. He was glad you seemed to be ready to start forgiving your brothers, but you seemed on the verge of a panic attack now.

You reached your hand out, and John left his seat to kneel next to yours, allowing you to latch onto his arm while he pulled out his cell phone.

“Alright, ok that’s great. I’m calling him now, just, can you breathe for me?”

You coughed out a shaky breath, and John smiled nervously at you as he pressed Mycroft’s number.

“Good, that’s good, again?” Just then Mycroft answered his phone.

“Where are you? Is-“

“The cafe near Baker Street, Sherlock knows it. Hurry,” John hung up on Mycroft and turned all his attention to you. “He’s on his way, with Sherlock, alright?”

You nodded, your eyes darting around the cafe as you lifted a hand up to rub your chest, your breath coming in quick gasps now.

John took both your hands in his, and spoke in a slow, even tone.

“Hey, look at me.” When your eyes met his, he smiled at continued. “This is a bit much, yeah? You haven’t been this far from Mycroft’s house in quite a while,” John was encouraged by your nod. Responding was a good sign. “Yeah, well that’s alright. I know you’re a bit overwhelmed, but there’s nothing to fear. I’m right here, I’m here for you, and Mycroft’s coming to take you home.”

“Are you John Watson?”

John turned instinctively at the sound of his name, and was alarmed to find a woman dressed suspiciously like a reporter standing over him.

“Now’s not a good time, give me some space please,” he tried to turn his attention back to you, but the reporter was insistent.

“How do you feel now that Sherlock Holmes is reported alive?”

“No comment, go away.”

Just then the reporter caught sight of you, and recognition lit up in her eyes.

Oh no.

“Y/N Holmes!”

You flinched at the sound of your name, and you tried to back away from the reporter, but your progress was stopped when the back of your chair hit the wall. John moved to stand in front of you.

“Y/N Holmes, how long have you known that your brother Sherlock is alive?”

“No no, no, stop it, leave her alone!” It was one thing to interrogate him, but John wasn’t about to let this reporter anywhere near you, especially not now.

“Did you help him fake his suicide? Was Mycroft Holmes in on it? Did Sherlock murder Jim Moriarty?” The reporter was trying to move around John now, elbowing her way closer to you.

You were hyperventilating now, one hand wrapped around your knees while the other was grasping for John’s. John instantly moved to grab your hand, but he was beaten to it.

“Back away, unless you’d like to lose your job.” Mycroft Holmes put himself between you and the reporter, grasping your small hand in his and carefully pulling you to your feet. Sherlock was right behind him, holding your shaking frame up with an arm around your shoulder and guiding you toward the door, where John could see Mycroft’s car waiting outside.

“Mr. Homes! I just have a few-“

Neither Mycroft nor Sherlock even bothered to respond, they simply ushered you outside with John right on their heels.

…

Once safe and sound in his car, Mycroft finally turned his full attention to you, quickly analyzing your condition. Quick, shallow breathing, darting eyes, shaking like a leaf. It wasn’t good.

It also could’ve been worse, though. Your hand was gripping tightly to his, and your eyes seemed to finally be focusing on him.

“Mycroft…” he was relieved to hear you speak, it was a good sign. He let you fall into his arms, and when you did he pressed his hand to the side of your head and leaned you against his chest.

“Breathe when I breathe, alright?”

You followed his example perfectly, it was an exercise you were quite used to.

Mycroft noticed Sherlock staring at him, shock and discomfort distorting his features. Mycroft understood the look. If he had seen himself like this two years ago, he wouldn’t even recognize himself.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love his siblings, it was just that showing it had never been something he had been comfortable with.

Sherlock’s “death” had forced him to almost permanently vacate his comfort zone.

He was not a touchy-feely man, and he did not believe in babying you simply because you were his sister. But when you had fallen to pieces after Sherlock left you, Mycroft had quickly realized that if he didn’t change some of his ways, you might just never be able to pull yourself back together again.

“I’m sorry,” Mycroft came back to himself when he heard your soft voice. “I shouldn’t have-have left. I wasn’t thinking.”

Mycroft shook his head, “Don’t apologize. You were upset, I understand.” He pulled you away from him and brushed your short hair away from your face, “how are you feeling?”

Your small hands gripped onto his.

“Better now.”

…

Sherlock was relieved when Mycroft’s car pulled into his driveway. The small car felt even smaller when he was stuck watching you and Mycroft. Your bond was something he didn’t understand, and he wasn’t used to not understanding Mycroft.

When the car pulled to a stop, you seemed recovered enough to walk inside, Mycroft letting you hold onto his arm the whole way. When the two of you were gone, Sherlock turned to John.

“Thank you. For watching her, that was…good.”

John gave a weak smile.

“I care about her too. You take care of her, she’s a good kid.”

“I know.”

John turned to leave, but hesitated.

“She’ll forgive you soon enough. She loves you guys.”

Sherlock allowed a smile to cross his face.

“Thank you.”

Taglist:

@navs-bhat @chaoticglitterkitten

#Sherlock #bbc sherlock #big brother mycroft #mycroft holmes #mycroft x reader #mycroft bbc #sherlock and mycroft #sherlock reader insert #sherlockbbc #sherlock x sister reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock x y/n #sherlock fandom #sherlock bbc #mycroft x sister #john watson #dr john watson #bbc john watson #john watson x reader

[random-imagines-blog]

The Impaler {Billy Loomis x Female!Reader x Stu Macher}

Wordcount: 7487 (Oopsies) Summary: Billy gets jealous of the fact that you have to work with Stu on a project. He makes sure it’s a real hands-on sort of experience. Notes: Contains: choking, blowjobs, rough blowjobs, bondage, m/f penetration, facial, threesome, degrading talk, insults, swearing, dominating behavior.

You could hear him at your window. Music was playing from your speaker softly, not loud enough to interrupt your concentration, and not loud enough to hear the jiggling of the lock. You looked over your shoulder to see a knife coming through the bottom, trying to get at the lock. You probably should have been frightened. There was a murderer loose in Woodsboro. That could be him now, trying to get into your room. Any moment now you were expecting to see the stupid mask that he apparently wore, rising into view. But you weren’t scared. In fact, you were just feeling exasperated, and tired. It had been a long day and you weren’t in the mood for any visitors. You rolled your eyes and went back to your book, hoping that he would give up, that he wouldn’t get past the lock that you put down when you got home because of this bad mood. But that stubbornness was strong. It’s what you had found so appealing about him in the first place. That and the bad boy look, the way that his hair always hung in his eyes like he was Johnny Depp in Cry Baby. Billy Loomis managed to get the lock, push it off to the side and push your window up. First one jean clad leg and then the other, the rest of his body ducking low to avoid getting hit as he swung into your bedroom.

“What the fuck,” Billy said, as you didn’t turn around, your eyes perusing the page. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him. At taking in those dark eyes, the jacket that you knew that he was wearing despite the warmth outside. You knew that you’d fall again and your books here wouldn’t have a single chance of competition. Read, read, read. “Y/n. Look at me.”

You really tried. But he had taken the steps to be right behind you. To take your chin in his hand and force your head to look in his direction. Eye contact, you were a sucker for it, and you knew that you were done for. His own eyes were filled with flames. He was angry, and that was never a good thing for a Loomis. How many nights have you held him while he ranted about his father. While he let himself be vulnerable in front of you, something that he never did in front of anyone. Not even in front of his so called girlfriend. Sydney Prescott. She knew about the abuse, there was no hiding it, but he kept her still at arm’s length.

“It’s been a long day, Billy,” You sighed, your shoulders slumping. “I’ll listen to you if you need to talk but if you’re looking for something more from me tonight, I’m sorry. Not in the mood, and too tired.” And what was that something more that he might have been looking for? You. Your body, your lips, whatever he needed, you usually gave. Even with him having a girlfriend. And even with - well, Randy. You weren’t dating the film nerd but people always assumed that you were. You thought that even thought that there was something going on between you two when you just felt nothing. It was cruel to let him continue thinking that there was something there, that’s true, but you just couldn’t hurt him like that. You just prayed that another girl would come along and take his fancy, then you’d be off scott free.

“Oh, it’s been a long day for you?” Billy asked. “Oh, okay, I’m so sorry. It’s not like I’ve been looking around all over the fucking city for you when your mom told me you didn’t come home after school.”

Shit. Right. You had forgotten to tell her that you would be running late - of course she would be dramatic with Billy when he called. She had given you a hard time when you finally got back, and you tuned her out, learning how to do that when you were a kid. If she mentioned Billy calling at all, it was in one ear and out the other.

“I’m sorry,” You said, not being able to avert your eyes. “Harrison gave us a big project and I met up with my partner at the library to talk about it. Well, I talked about it mostly, he just sort of-”

“Who?” Billy asked, his eyes narrowing. “You said he.”

For someone with a girlfriend, he really could be a jealous asshole sometimes. That was part of his charm. Randy completely thought that Billy hated him because of the rumors that went around. Whenever you sat close to him to avoid feeling like a fifth wheel beside Tatum, Stu, Sydney and Billy, there were glares coming from his direction. It made you feel special, despite the fact that he didn’t have ground to stand on.

“Stu,” You said, slowly, trying to avert your eyes as his own started to flare up. His eyebrows shooting high.

“Like Stu?” He asked, as if he wasn’t quite sure that he heard you. “Our Stu. My Stu. Macher?”

“I don’t know of any others,” You said, but quickly put out your hand to touch his arm. “It’s okay though, right? Like you said, it’s Stu. Our Stu, your Stu, Macher,” You repeated his words. “It���s just a history report about some historical figure. We figured out that it was going to be Vlad Dracul - his idea because he loves those shitty Dracula movies, and that I’d do most of the work and let him sign off on it. Get him an easy grade. If I let him do anymore than his name, I know I’ll lower my grade to a D for sure. Can’t have that in Harrison’s class.”

You were talking too much, you knew that by the way that he wasn’t looking reassured at all. You had hoped that he would. It was Stu after all, his best friend. There should be nothing to be jealous about there, right? But apparently not.

“Right,” He said, nodding, letting go of your face and backed towards the window. He purposefully made himself farther away, it was clear to see. “So you didn’t tell me that you were going to be with Stu tonight. Or your mom. And he didn’t mention it either. How fucking convenient.”

“Really, Billy? Are you going to make accusations about Stu and I?” You scoffed. “You can be ridiculous sometimes but that’s a big fat no.”

“I just find it ... funny,” Billy said, though his face didn’t show any sort of amusement. “Right, well, I’ll leave you to your super important project that you’re doing with Stu,” He growled out the name of his best friend. “Since that’s clearly what matters most to you. Maybe I’ll go see what Sydney’s doing. Crawl up her window. At least she appreciates it when I do it.”

“Fine,” You said, crossing your arms, trying not to give in though he knew. He had to have known. That’s where your weak point was. Sydney. That every time he mentioned her name or their relationship, it was a stab in your heart. “You can even tell her that I say hello, if you want. Though I don’t think you will. You’re still keeping us a secret and all that,” You shot right back.

“That’s how it is?” He asked, sticking one leg out and straddled the windowsill. “Fuck, how many times do I have to tell you? She’s still upset over her mom, I can’t just be that asshole.”

“And I didn’t pick my partner for this assignment, and I’m not just going to let Stu down. I can’t be that asshole,” You said, turning his own words against him. He scoffed at you. He actually scoffed, and then let himself out through your window, climbing down the trellis. He even left it open which he knew annoyed the shit out of you. You had to get up, head over, and slam it down, turning the lock again, though clearly it did little good. You thought for a moment and then wedged a piece of wood over top of it so it couldn’t slide open more than a couple of inches, even if it was unlocked. That would have to do.

-

Your classmates filtered out of the room slowly, but you stayed behind with Stu for a moment. The guy had almost gotten himself suspended today because of that smartass mouth and that goofy smile. The class clown, that’s what he tended to be. “If you want a decent grade, Stu, you’ve got to at least act like you’re doing some of the work,” You sighed, getting up from your desk and picked up your books along with you. “Harrison will figure that you picked the topic but come on, that’ll only get you like ten marks. Don’t you want to graduate?”

Stu laughed in his usual way. He was a lot more of a casual guy than Billy was. He put his arm around your shoulders, his lanky frame being at least a head above you. He usually just put his elbow on top of your head and leaned on it so this was a rather nice difference. “Just don’t do my parts too well. Throw in some spelling mistakes. Maybe a dirty joke, that’ll make it seem like it’s really me. I’m fuckin’ counting on you. Do me proud!”

You both walked out of the classroom like that. Just chatting. Just laughing. He was giving you some jokes that you should put in about all of the impaling. And you knew that you would have to if you wanted it to be realistic. You were laughing at one particular one when a bad feeling came over you. The feeling of being watched. Everyone was on edge with the Ghostface killer being around but this felt different, familiar, more dangerous.

Billy. He was standing at the end of the hallway. His eyes were piercing into yours, staring at you. Staring at the way that Stu had his arm around you. You quickly brushed that arm off, which caught Stu’s attention. He looked at you, and then down the hall. “Shit,” He sighed.

“Wait, you know?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

“About you and Loomis? Course I know. He tells me everythinnngggg...” And then he looked you up and down with his creepy Stu Macher smile as if to emphasize his point. You groaned and pushed him away from you with all of your might, causing that thin form to go flying towards the lockers.

“You’re making it worse,” You hissed, and looked back down the hall to see if Billy was still there. He wasn’t. And that didn’t bring you any relief.

--

You walked down the stairs in the front of the school, reading over your notes again. You just had a big quiz in your final class and you were mentally checking off what you had put down. It was seeming like it went well. You might have gotten one or two things confused but - you’d still get a good grade. You’d been worried about Billy throughout most of the day. Wondering what he was going to pull because there was always going to be something. Maybe he would do that thing where he’d be super affectionate with Sydney in front of you, knowing how much that affected you.

But to your surprise, you heard a honk. Billy Loomis’s car was idling by the front steps. students walking past it to get to their bus stop or walk home. It wasn’t that out of the ordinary for him to call to you. You were all in the same friend group. But he was waving you over, impatience already showing on his features. “Come on, y/n,” He said, his window rolling down. He looked like the epitome of bad boy right there. The slight snarl. The hair in his face. Those cheekbones that you loved running your tongue along. When you didn’t move fast enough, when you stared at him curiously, he pressed down on the horn, letting out a loud, annoying blast.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” You said, scurrying forward, holding onto the strap of your bag. You curled in to get in the passenger seat, setting your bag down by your feet.

“Where are we going?” You asked as he started to drive. It wasn’t the direction of your house. It wasn’t the direction of his place either. He was taking you to the nicer side of town. “Billy?”

“Taking you to Stu’s,” He said, his voice steady, his eyes on the road. His jaw seemed clenched. “Taking you to work on that important project of yours. That’s what you would have been doing anyway, wasn’t it?”

“Well, not today, probably sometime on the weekend...” You said, looking out the window. “I don’t have the materials to work on Dracul today.”

“That’s not the project that I’m talking about,” Billy said.

“Then what is?” You questioned. He didn’t answer, just adding to your budding frustration. He turned the radio up. Some rock station. It must be broadcasting from another town with a really strong signal since every other station was talking about the murders. Scaring people into a frenzy. It was the last thing on your mind right then, since it was apparent that there were other dangers to face.

Stu’s house came upon you sooner than you hoped that it would. The tall boy was waiting by the door, wearing that ugly robe of his, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Billy got out of the car first, came around, opened your door, and all but tugged you out. “Billy-”

“Fuck’s going on, man?” Stu asked. Though he hardly seemed concerned. Was that even a word that he knew? He kept on having that stupid smile on his face. The one that never left. It was a bit eerie now that you thought about it. How could Tatum stand it for long periods of time?

“It’s time to work on your project,” Billy said, smiling in return. He kept one hand on your back, pushing you, making you roughly pass by Stu and into the house. “That’s what you both wanted. And I’m here to help.”

“That’s cool dude, yeah,” Stu said, being agreeable as always. If he sensed something off about Billy, he was seeming to embrace it rather than be scared of it. You were so hesitant, you tried not to move, tried to drag your feet, but Billy just would not let you. You were pushed on up the stairs. Stu even helped. He grabbed hold of your arms and hoisted you up over his shoulder. “I got some movies from the video store! Horror movie research!”

“That’s not what I was talking about,” Billy said, following Stu in. You were hitting the lanky man’s back but it was making no difference at all. You watched as Billy closed the door. Turned the lock. That made you gulp. Stu turned around so you were now facing the staircase rather than Billy. Once more, you felt more afraid of not seeing him than actually being able to watch what he was doing.

“Fuck man, I don’t wanna read the book,” Stu whined. “The movies are so much better.”

“Take her up to your room,” Billy said. Stu hesitated, just like you had, but he did eventually turn around and start the walk. You could feel the bounce of every step. And you could look into Billy’s dark eyes again. He looked calm, unsettlingly calm.

“Billy?” You asked again. It came out as more of a plea for answers than anything, but he just shook his head. The bad feeling was growing more and more in the pit of your stomach.

Stu opened a door and took you inside. You had been in this house for parties before but never in his bedroom. You didn’t have much of a chance to look around before you were dropped down on the bed with a bounce. You tried to get up but immediately, Billy was on top of you, his knee against your stomach, fighting against your hands. “Billy - stop - for fuck’s sake -”

Stu just laughed, seemingly finding your fighting to be funny. Billy didn’t though. Billy looked over his shoulder at him annoyed. “You’re the one that wanted this,” He said, turning back to glare at you. “So don’t act like you don’t.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” You insisted.

“Got those ropes still?” Billy asked Stu, who nodded. You weren’t going to be getting any help from your history partner, that was becoming really obvious. Stu actually moved forward to help. Billy held you down while Stu slipped them around your wrists, the other ends tied around the bed-frame. You didn’t even really have time to wonder how kinky Tatum was before you found yourself strapped up. Billy finally stepped off of you.

“Okay, okay, you got me,” You said with a nervous laugh. “You’re scaring me. That’s what you wanted right? I’m scared. I’ll never blow you off again. I’ll ask Harrison if I can switch partners. I’ll find a way to make it happen. Be with - a girl or something so you never have to get nervous. No, wait, I’ll do it myself. Just please, Billy, let me go.”

“Awww, you’re gonna leave me high and dry like that?” Stu asked, squatting down on the ground to be at eye level with you. He still had that obnoxious grin. “I’d never pass it on my own.”

“B-but,” You blubbered. Billy tightened up the wrist straps, then kicked over Stu who whined on the ground like a child. He took Stu’s place, looking into your eyes. There wasn’t even the slightest bit of affection in his.

“You’re going to be a good girl,” He said. “You’re going to go through with your project right here and right now, in front of me, instead of sneaking around behind my back. But after this, you’re going to remember that you’re mine. Or - I can let you go right now and you’ll never see my face again.”

That didn’t feel like a threat exactly. It felt like a break up. And even though you were scared, there was nothing more horrifying than the thought of him leaving you. Of going and actually being happy with Sidney. Going and living the white picket fence life with her when you would do ANYTHING for him, anything at all. You nodded. Against your better judgement. While restrained. With tears coming into your eyes.

The lights turned off. It made you yelp, surprising you. Then the flicker of a lighter and candles started to be lit. Stu was being a happy participant, even if he didn’t know what was really going on. The room was lit up by the light glow of the candles, creating a weird ambiance. This felt like something out of The Craft. If Billy practiced witchcraft, that was something new to you. But then again, this was Woodsboro. There was a murderer on the loose, anything could happen.

But you still had absolutely no idea what this had to do with Dracula.

“What do you want me to do?” You asked, trying to keep the sob out of your voice.

“You wanted to learn more about an impaler. That’s what you’re going to do,” Billy said, sounding as emotionally constipated as ever.

An Impaler. The impaler. You breathed in sharply through your nose and started to tug at your restraints a little more. Look for the stake. They were going to kill you, oh fuck, they were going to - Billy whispered something over to Stu, who looked at him with surprise, that grin slipping for a moment before it came back tenfold. He nodded, and - started to take off clothes. First came off that stupid robe and then his pants. His boxers slid down with them and he stepped in close to you. His cock was exactly like him. It bobbed in front of your face, causing you to draw back as much as your restraints would allow.

Impale.

He was going to get Stu to fuck you.

Oh shit. This was hardly how you expected things to go and yet - you were relieved. It wasn’t as bad aas you thought that it was going to be, even if it was a complete shock. You looked up at Stu who had that maniacal grin still on his face, then over to Billy who looked entirely serious. The contrast between them always stood out to you, but not as startlingly so until now. You slowly nodded. You didn’t want him to leave you. You loved him, even with his jealous ways. Even if some of your friends would call such a relationship toxic. Even with Sidney in the way.

That was all that the two boys needed.

Billy wrapped his hand around your throat, his thumb rubbing circles against your esophagus. It wasn’t the most pleasant feeling. He squeezed it, until you were struggling for air, all the while, Stu’s cock bounced up and down on top of your lips. It felt like he was teasing himself, or - being reluctant with Billy there. You started to see black spots appear around the corners of your vision, and finally attempted to turn your head out of Billy’s grip but with your arms and legs being restrained, it was impossible. He loosened a little, letting you breathe, and then tightened back up. It went on like this for another moment or so - tightening and then loosening, until you could feel your pulse inside of your own brain.

And then it was Stu’s turn. They were looking at each other with smirks as they took turns turning your lights off, so to speak. You were starting to wonder if they really were going to kill you. It was Billy’s hand again on you, while Stu started to pull your shirt up, exposing your stomach. His hands roamed over it. And then he departed for a second, only to come back with a pair of scissors. Your eyes went wide as he started to cut up your shirt. You wanted to protest but given the fact that you weren’t getting enough air to breathe, you didn’t have a choice but to accept it. A slap on your left breast, and then your right, as Stu was having fun with what he was seeing. “I can see why you’re always sneaking behind Sydney’s back,” He laughed, tweaking your nipple. “She’s got great tits.”

“Careful,” Billy warned, loosening his grip. “She’s still mine.”

It brought goosebumps on your exposed flesh to hear those words. And the way that he was talking. That they were both talking. Like you weren’t even there, or couldn’t listen. They weren’t talking to you, they were talking about you. Around you.

“I - I -” You tried to say, but then Stu interrupted whatever you were trying to attempt.

“Is your hand not big enough for her throat? I can still hear her man.”

“Shut her up with something else then,” Billy shrugged, letting go, making you cough as air tried to fill your lungs. You were blinking slowly, trying to get the dancing spots out of your vision. They were everywhere, like black dust. You didn’t have much time for relief though. Billy’s words had hardly gotten into your head, not with your brain feeling like it was thumping as a warning to get more oxygen. They turned you over, causing the restraints to twist and tighten, so painfully apparent. And then something long was shoved into your mouth, depriving you again.

You blinked, and felt some little hairs against your face. It was Stu then. Billy kept himself groomed. Your lips wrapped willingly around the shaft just to make it easier on yourself. The musty scent of a man filling your nostrils. The taste. The only man you had blown before was Billy and his taste was different. The whole thing was different. Stu was longer, reaching deeper into the back of your throat, fucking with your gag reflexes. You were choking on him. And it had an upward curve to it, like a banana. It made even coming close to swallowing it all down near impossible. Billy, on the other hand - well, you didn’t have a moment to think about Billy when Stu started to move his hips. A hand took hold of your hair, pulling it all behind you, keeping it out of your face while also gaining control of your motions. Pushing your head more and more until your nose was squished against a pelvis. “That’s it - give it to her,” Billy grunted. “Come on, take this shit.”

He let go of you and this time it was Stu’s hands that locked around your hair. For just a second, the dick fell out of your mouth, and for a reason that you could not explain to yourself, you hungrily went looking for it. “Christ,” Stu cursed, and put you back into his mouth. Your throat was making obscene noises as you took him down. Gagging. Air trying to come up. Saliva filling your mouth and coating him. “That’s good shit.”

“Yeah, man,” Billy said, sitting down at the end of the bed. “Fuck her throat. That’s what she’s been wanting after all.”

“You really think so?”

“Look how she’s gargling it down, I’d say so. Try to arch your back there, y/n, really make it sexy.”

You were laying on your stomach, barely able to raise your head. Stu was having to crouch low to fuck your throat in that position. But you tried. You tried to arch your back. Tried to make yourself pretty for Billy, even while you had his best friend’s cock halfway down to your stomach. “Push that ass up,” He commanded. So you tried. You dug your knees into the mattress to try to raise your ass, your waist just barely rising up from the sheets. You were rewarded for that with a couple of really hard smacks. Even with your pants and underwear still on, it stung. It was only going to get worse, you could feel that. So you tried to enjoy what you could. Enjoy the taste. Sucking dick was a turn on, weirdly enough. It was often your foreplay with Billy.

You gasped with every stinging slap. Sometimes the noise came out when Stu had pulled himself out, but sometimes it came out more as a strangled cry when he thrust back in. Then he took hold of your hair again. Pulling it. You thought it was going to come out, he had such a stronghold on it. Taking it since Stu kept neglecting it and then wrapped his hand around your throat again. He started to laugh. “Fuck man, I can feel your dick all the way down here.”

“Oh yeah? Let’s see if you can feel it in her stomach?” Stu laughed, sticking his tongue out and really pushed his pelvis forward.

“You think pretty highly of yourself,” Billy chuckled. You didn’t have a chance to get in on the joke. You could barely even hear them over you. Your ears were filled with blood as your throat was getting fucked over and over, thoroughly. This went on for another minute before Stu finally had enough of your mouth and pulled himself out. Your breath came out in a gasp, heavy and painful. Billy could be rough sometimes but it was nothing compared to what that was. Spit dribbled out of your mouth, down onto the bed, creating a large puddle. It was so thick, it didn’t sink in right away, just sat on the surface. And then you were turned around.

There was hardly a moment to feel relief at the restraints becoming untangled. Or even as Billy was undoing the ones on your ankles so you could move. You were still trying to get your breath back, get the tears out of your eyes. “You gonna be good?” Billy asked before he fully removed the restraint from your left ankle.

“Yes, sirs,” You nodded, finally being able to breathe through your nose, adjusting your jaw to try to get rid of the discomfort. Your pants were then cut off, the scissors gliding close to the seams up the sides, the metal against your skin. A fan was blowing around the room, and you just started feeling it now. Stu crawled over your body until he was between your legs and you saw how big he was, how crazy it was that that ... thing had fit down your throat as far as it did. Now it stood stark, reaching past his belly button, creating a shadow. He could be used as a sundial in a pinch.

“Go on,” Billy said, giving Stu further permission. “You were going to a report on impalement. So do a presentation.”

Your eyes shot wide open when that cock stabbed into you, filling you completely. No lubrication save for the leftover spit that had been dripping off of him. “Oh fuck, I think she liiiikkesss it,” Stu said, rotating his hips. Really playing with you. Your mouth gaped open once more, every thrust sending you reeling. And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, Stu was right - you were really enjoying it. You could feel him going in with less and less resistance from yourself. Your legs spread, he held your knees up with his palms, and kept on laughing and making crude comments until Billy finally had enough, reached over and slapped him upside of the head.

“Can’t say she’s not a team player. Play with your tits for us,” He commanded down at you. Your hands were freed, and you did what he asked you to do, pulling and grabbing at your nipples as your breasts swayed with each thrust. Any protests that you had came out as moans instead of groans. Especially when you settled into a nice groove between the thrusts, your own hips being pushed up and the sensitive feelings of your nipples being played with. He was really railing into you, but the thing about Stu is that he did a lot of teasing, not just with his mouth either. He pulled out and replaced himself with two fingers, pushing in and out quickly, a frantic pace but controlled. His thumb kept brushing against your clit, and then circling it until you felt that feeling start to overtake you.

“Oh shit dude, think she’s gonna?” Stu asked and Billy smirked, knowing your body well. Knowing your reactions. You were gaping like a fish out of water, the muscles in your thighs and inside of you contracting as that feeling, that pure white bliss, was coming in closer and closer. But then - a few seconds of emptiness. You whined as you felt it all come to an end. But then you were filled again. Stu sunk deeply into you and you moaned in relief.

What had started off as a confusing assault was turning into something so pleasurable. Your throat still hurt. Your fingers still played at your breasts, grabbing them, fingers sinking into flesh. You wanted their approval. You wanted Billy’s approval, no matter how cruel he could be.

Stu took hold of your hair, snatching it to pull your head up, bending you at the neck uncomfortably and plowing. “I’m - I’m -" You said, confirming what Stu was asking earlier. Your insides were clenching at him. Milking him. Trying to get ever last drop of pleasure out of the experience but Stu turned your head roughly and made you face Billy while he kept on thrusting.

“Don’t you dare,” Billy said, licking his lip. You groaned. “You’re such a slut, wanting to cum over Stu’s dick while I’m sitting right here. So fucking dirty.”

You really tried to keep it at bay, trying to listen to him. But it rushed over you anyway, that feeling that took your breath away. Stu kept hitting you juuuust right. His hand was back to circling your clit quickly, causing you to make quite a mess. Stu paused and then started to laugh. “She just fucking squirted man!”

“I see that,” Billy said, sneering at you. “Fucking knew she was just a whore.”

You never felt so dirty. So shamed. You wanted to hide, and wanted to cry and wanted to fight but you couldn’t. You were just a doll for them to maneuver, to use as they wished at this point. Stu pushed you off of him and then laid down on the bed, his legs in the mess that you had made. Billy was the one taking your hair this time, lifting you up and pushing you on top of his lanky friend. “Gonna make him do all the work? I didn’t know you were lazy too.”

You fell back on top of Stu, and though you felt defeated, though you felt disgraced, you moved so that you were straddling him and then lowered yourself down, putting him right back in. He had crazy stamina. You could have guessed by the way that he always had so much energy. You squatted right on top of that dick and lowered yourself down and then raised yourself up. He just felt so good. The way that his pelvis kept hitting right against your already battered and overly sensitive clit had you building up again. His hands went back around your throat, both of these men seemingly enjoying the feeling of it against their hands. You were bucking, your arms instinctively going behind your back, crossing there.

“Yeah, show him some respect. Good girl,” Billy said, sitting down right next to Stu’s body. Your eyes kept wandering over to him. To his handsome face, wondering how he was doing this, why he was doing this and even more - why you were seeming to enjoy it. You were bucking away, and Billy’s hand kept making contact with your ass, slapping it roughly. No doubt, you were going to have bruises when this was over with. But the sharp pains felt good in comparison to the pleasure that the second orgasm gave you, mixing together into a euphoric bliss that made you feel even dirtier than before. Stu wasn’t giving you a break. Nor, for that matter, was Billy, whose slaps became harder and harder, the sounds echoing through the room, mixing with your moans, mewls and whimpers. He took turns slapping both cheeks, and then squeezing, pinching. His own hand was rubbing down at his own cock, still hidden under the jeans that he was wearing.

Stu threw you off, surprising you. Your chest was heaving up and down as you looked at him, but even that moment of rest didn’t last long. He was all go-go-go. How could Tatum stand it - you were exhausted.

This time you were carried right off of the bed. Stu handled you like you were a ragdoll rather than a living being. No consideration as to what you might be feeling. While holding you, he raised his leg to kick some clothes off of a computer chair and got you situated on there. It was extremely uncomfortable but before you could complain, he was right back into you, pounding into you doggy style.  Your one leg fell onto the ground to support you but your other knee was being driven right into the uncomfortable leather of the seat. You grasped at the armrest, needing something to hold onto.

You could hardly see. Your eyes were watery. Your forehead was so sweaty. You still had globules of drool from when your mouth was wrapped around Stu’s cock. You must have been an absolute mess. But apparently, still decent enough for Billy to get hard. He stood on the other side of you, right in your face. So tall. His hands worked at his belt, unbuckling it slowly. And then the button of his jeans, the zipper, pulling them down to his ankles, tugging his briefs with them. The motion of the thrusts from behind had you moving forward, almost headbutting his waist, forcing your face directly against the hard dick that you had gotten to know over the last couple of months. “You hungry or what?” Billy asked. You nodded. You knew what was expected. And you had missed him. Being with Stu felt wrong without him being a part of it. Billy was the one that you loved and you were putting up with all of this to please him. To get called a good girl again. He pumped himself a couple of times with his hand as a tease, holding it just out of reach of your mouth. You tried to lunge forward to get it, to snatch it with your mouth but each and every time, he’d move it to the side. He laughed, like this was the most amusing game that he had ever played. “Look at her, look at her,” He said with a laugh.

“Come on man, you’re making her move away from me,” Stu whined.

“Shut the fuck up,” Billy shot back, reaching over your body and slapping him across the side of the head. “Just be lucky I’m letting her fuck you at all.”

“Yeah. You’re right. My bad,” Stu said, laughing like an idiot again. Did he ever stop smiling? You were watching all of this over your shoulder, neck bent at an uncomfortable angle. Billy took hold of your chin and moved your head right back to his pelvis.

“Go on,” He said, and so you did. You opened your mouth and welcomed him in. It was thicker, but all of the spit from earlier helped a lot. Your throat was already primed and lubricated for him. He groaned as he felt your cheeks hollow around him, as he pushed further to tease your gag reflex. “Deepthroat. Fucking work it. You wanted to get impaled. I’ll show you what it’s like to be impaled.”

“Fuckin’ spitroasted!” Stu said, giving Billy a high five over your back. You moaned, feeling so full on both ends. This was your first two on one experience. It was harder to concentrate on both than you thought it would be. To keep your tongue moving, to keep from gagging, all while being pushed back against Stu. You could swear he was reaching into your womb, he was going so hard, so deep.

“Why are you sucking like you think you have a fucking choice? Take it.” Billy scowled. You must have been lacking for a couple of seconds there so you tried to make up for it. Opened your mouth. Suppressed your gagging as much as you could. Felt his balls flinging against your chin.

“Ahh - yeah, yeah, almost there,” Stu said, his eyes rolling up into his head.

“Fuck, me too,” Billy admitted, though it had only been a couple of minutes for him. “She always forgets her birth control, don’t cum in her.”

“Shit, don’t be so fucking lazy,” Stu said, pulling out of you. Billy left your mouth and you fell onto the floor, your legs feeling like jelly. Your ass was so sore from all of the spanking, you flinched the moment that it touched the carpet on the ground. You leaned back against the seat of the chair, which wasn’t comfortable but at least it took a bit of the weight off.

Above you, both men stood. Both had their hands on their cocks. The first drops of warm liquid hit the left side of your face. “Open your fuckin mouth,” Billy said, jacking his cock in that direction. You did what you were told to do, sticking your tongue out, improvising what he might want. You had the right idea. Billy moaned at the sight and a glob of it fell right onto your tongue. “Yeah, keep it there. Taste it for me.”

Your eyes rolled over to Stu, just in time to get a load right below your eye. You managed to close it in time. You felt it dripping off of your cheek, down onto your shoulder. It was so damn warm. Or maybe your face was just burning up. After a couple more spurts over the bridge of your nose and then on your upper lip, it was finally over. Your humiliation. Your punishment. Your torment.

The boys were getting dressed again. Or rather, Stu was belting his robe up, not even bothering with pants or underwear. It was Billy that was getting dressed. They didn’t give you a towel or anything, just left you there on your knees, unable to see out of one eye. You wiped it with the back of your arm but that seemed to make it go everywhere. “Umm....” You stammered. “Is there anywhere I can clean myself up?”

“Bathroom down the hall,” Stu said, turning his computer chair around and sitting on it, doing a little spin. “Don’t get my mom’s towels dirty or she’ll have my fucking head.”

You nodded meekly. You tried not to drip, swallowing what was in your mouth and on your tongue, and cupping your hands under your chin to try to get the rest that would slide off. With unsteady legs, and without any help from either boy, you made your way to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind you. The shame that you felt. The shame at the fact that you had enjoyed it. You didn’t even want to look at yourself in the mirror. You turned on the taps and used warm water to wash your face. There wasn’t any face wash in here so you used hand soap which dried out your skin but at least it made you feel clean.

You sat on the toilet for a couple of minutes. Tried to clean yourself up down there. Urinated to avoid a UTI. Flush, back to the sink, try to clean yourself with soap and water. You thought about taking a shower. But the idea of being so vulnerable in there and being naked for any moment longer was daunting. Besides, his parents might come home and you still had to make it back across the hall unclothed. When you did what you could, you took a breath and then dashed down the hallway, flinging open the door, and then closing it behind you. Stu snickered in your direction.

“Where are my clothes?” You asked, trying to sound more stable than you really were. It made the boys exchange looks at each other and laugh.

“Ripped up,” Billy said. “As part of your lesson. Did you learn it?”

“Well,” You said, covering your breasts with one arm and your other hand was between your legs, trying to hide that as well. “I know now to make sure that I’m never paired up with Randy for anything - ever.”

“Ew dude, can you imagine?” Stu said, followed by - guess what? - a laugh. “Gross.”

“That would have had a very different outcome,” Billy said, throwing his shirt at you, since your own had been completely ruined. It laid in tatters on the ground. Nothing more than rags. Stu had started rolling up a joint, licking the paper closed and then handed it to Billy who lit it and took a large mouthful of the stuff. He handled it well, keeping it in without choking, only to approach you and to blow it slowly in your face. “Don’t do anything that means you’ll be spending any time alone with another guy.”

“Because you’ll get jealous?” You asked, pulling the shirt on over your head. Billy wasn’t a large guy so it didn’t cover too much, but at least you did feel less exposed.

“Don’t even bring up that fucking word,” He shook his head. He handed the joint behind him back to Stu, not even offering you any. “Since you are here though, and I’m here to ... chaperone, you can work on your little project. As long as you behave.”

“Okay,” You said, fairly meekly after sensing the threat in there. When he sat back down upon the bed, he pulled you into his lap, the shirt drooping in front of you to protect whatever modesty you had left.

--

Needless to say, you didn’t get the best grade ever on that assignment. Actually, with the principal being killed and school letting out for a couple of days to recuperate, it didn’t even show up on your final report card. Still, though, Billy and Stu were very eager to celebrate the points that you did rack up, and you partook happily enough. Even if it meant that you couldn’t ever look Tatum or Sydney in the eye again.

#Billy Loomis x reader #Billy Loomis oneshot #Billy Loomis #Stu Macher #Stu Macher x reader #Stu Macher oneshot #Scream #Scream oneshots #nonrequest #oneshot #smut #billy loomis smut #stu macher smut #stum #billyl

[n0tangeliccc]

Distance

Stan x Fem!Reader

(All characters are 18+)

Warning: Cheating, sex mentions, toxic relationships

Prev.

Next.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ✧˖°.

You sat on Stan’s couch looking at the floor waiting for him to say something. The air was thick and tensions were high. Something had definitely happened, sure Stan had sent you messages like that before but this time something was off.

Stan walked over and sat next to you, “Sorry for texting you like that I know you were probably with Wendy since yknow…” he sighed “Um well…fuck I’m sorry I just need you here with me” his hand ran through his bleached blond hair. Need. He needed you. “Stan-“ “I know I could have waited but so much shit has been going on and I had to be with you now” Stan slowly inched his face towards yours something you’d become used to anytime you came over but this time you couldn’t do it, you backed and pushed away slightly “Stan…” He stopped and backed away with a frown “What, did I do something wrong?” You shook your head and sighed “You can’t use sex to escape all your problems, why did you really tell me to come here?” You crossed your arms and he sighed.

Stan wasn’t the greatest at expressing his emotions usually closing up when upset or angry, at least before you came along.

The first night he came to you he and Wendy had a particularly rough break up. Stan had taken a bottle of whiskey from his father’s cabinet and was about to start drinking before his phone had buzzed in his pocket. It was a message from you, he would have never expected it honestly. He thought you probably hated him knowing how the other girls spoke about his after his break ups with Wendy, you just felt bad for the guy.

‘Hey I know you and Wendy had a bit of a rough break up but if you need to talk I’m here :)’

That message was the start of it all.

Crazy no?

That little message led to long passionate nights, needy touches, stolen kisses, hidden marks on each others bodies, and all while he kept going back to your best friend. It was laughable how quickly he got attached to you, he felt like he was a child experiencing his first crush all over again. You made him want to throw up in a good way with all the butterflies you gave him the moment you opened the door to your house that night. Now he sat on the couch barley able to look you in the eyes.

“Wendy almost found out and now Im fucking stressed” Stan’s hands balled up into fist “We had a whole screaming match when she saw one of your messages” Your eyes widen “Shit…” you mumbled. Wendy was sweet but she did have an extremely jealous side to her and when she was mad…she was mad. “Don’t worry I don’t have your name as your contact on my phone so she won’t go ballistic on you” “Not yet…” Stan put his hand on your back giving it a soft rub “You’re her best friend Y/N” You covered your face with your hands “Fuck I’m such a terrible friend…” In all honesty you mostly felt bad for Wendy, you didn’t regret what you did and that made you feel even worse. “Is that why you’ve been distant with her? Was it me?” He didn’t say anything, he didn’t even look at you when he nodded. “I need to go” You got up as fast as you could and began to leave “See you…” “Y/N please!” Was the last thing you heard before walking out. You didn’t want to stay any longer, you probably would have broken down if you did.

You didn’t regret it but you sure as hell felt guilty. You just prayed Stan wouldn’t be at that party tomorrow.

*Buzz Buzz*

You check your phone, had it been going off like crazy all this time?

6 new messages from Bebs❤️

4 new messages from Wends💜

Fuck…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ✧˖°.

Masterlist

Taglist:

@hand-writxen

#Shameless SP Series #south park x reader #south park fanfiction #south park x y/n #south park x you #south park smut #stan marsh smut #stan marsh x you #stan marsh x reader #stan marsh x y/n

[offsidekineticist]

I (finally!) finished my first OC Kiss Week fic! A little familial bonding between Theoven and @silversiren1101's wonderful OC Minovae for the prompt "Lost."

CW: Grief-driven depressive episode, implied child death, referenced chronic pain, reference to an angry outburst resulting in violence against furniture

You were not expecting visitors, so it takes you a moment to get to the door. The second it swings open, you are blinded with an explosion of sunlight shining past the silhouette in the door. Wincing, you raise an aching hand to block the sunlight from your eyes, but it’s no good. Even if you weren’t blinded by the flaming ball of gas in the sky, you haven’t been able to find your glasses since you threw them at the wall in frustration about ten minutes ago.

“Agh–damn. Sorry. I left my glasses inside–who is this?” you ask.

“It’s Minovae,” the figure replies, and you’re at once confused, concerned, and horrified. Confused, because ever since you reconnected with your brother, Gilly has been adamant that he not be allowed to know where you live, lest he and his wife tell the Order of the Rack where you are. You pushed back by pointing out–several times–that the Rack could probably find you on their own, given that you live in the apartment above Gilly’s alchemy shop; his name is literally written on the side of the building. Nevertheless, Gilly was insistent, and everyone involved thought it better to humor him than waste time arguing. For Minovae to be here, either he finally caved or–and this is the source of your concern–something has gone very, very wrong.

On the other hand, you are horrified because you stayed home for a reason! You are not in any state to be seen today, especially not by Regill or his wife. Your hair is unwashed and clumped together from greasiness; you haven’t shaved in days; you probably smell awful; and you don’t even have the energy to bother with proper facial expressions. You’ve been absolutely miserable to be around the past few days, constantly holding yourself back from snapping at people, including the kids (thankfully you haven’t slipped–yet), and so you chose to spare everyone that experience. Let Gilly take the children to a picnic with Aunt Mino and Uncle Regill. Give your family a break from walking on eggshells around you. Nobody was supposed to come to your house in the middle of your temper tantrum.

“Is everything alright?” you ask.

“Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. Giliys just found these in his pocket and thought you’d need them. I volunteered to bring them so he wouldn’t have to cut the outing short.”

‘These’ were a pair of black fingerless gloves she was holding out close enough for you to see. The very gloves you’ve been raging about not being able to find. You remember now–Gilly had dragged you out of the apartment for a walk a few hours before the heatwave finally broke, so it felt too hot to keep the gloves on. The children had taken your bag at the time, and your usual clothes don’t have pockets, so you gave the gloves to Gilly for safekeeping.

It would have been nice of him to remember that before he–

You cut off the thought. You’re being unfair again. It was an honest mistake, one that he immediately took steps to rectify. You would have preferred Minovae not see you in this state, but you know Gilly doesn’t trust her or Regill enough to leave the children alone with them, and you’d rather suffer a little embarrassment than cut short the children’s fun.

(Though you’re not sure that leaving Regill and Gilly together unsupervised was a good idea. Hopefully Harper will be able to keep them in line–your daughter has them both wrapped around her finger)

You reach out with a shaky hand and take the gloves. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it. I won’t keep you any longer, then. I’m sure you’re eager to return to the picnic.” You begin to close the door, but Minovae’s arm shoots forward and holds it open.

“Actually, it was a pretty long walk here from Kite Hill. No shade the whole way, and I forgot to grab a waterskin. Could I come in and sit down for a second? Maybe get a drink of water?”

She expects you to believe that she’s tired and thirsty after walking–without armor–for less than two miles in pleasantly warm weather. You want to slam the door on her arm for her obvious excuse to stay here any longer, but that would be rude. You step back into the apartment and gesture for her to enter. You almost close the door on her tail because you can’t see it without your glasses, but it (thankfully) springs forward at the last second and (less thankfully) almost slaps you in the face. It takes your eyes a moment to readjust to the darkness in the apartment–you’ve closed the curtains trying to reproduce the heat of the last week to stop your hands from aching–but your heart sinks when they do. This floor of the apartment is a single room, with a kitchen and dining area in the half nearest the door and a den area in the other half. Minovae is staring at what used to be the den. You can’t see it very well, of course, but you don’t need to be able to see it to know what she’s looking a: chairs overturned, books strewn across the floor, a bookshelf on its side, broken glass scattered by a pile of copper pieces, toy blocks spread across the floor. You know it’s all there without having to see it because you’re the person who made it like that.

“Oh. Yes.” You pause as you consider how to explain, and settle for understatement. “I was a bit overzealous while looking for my gloves. I was going to clean that up before anyone came home, but…” you gesture towards her. “Anyway, you wanted water.”

“Ah, yes, that would be lovely. Is it alright if I sit here?” You think she’s pointing at the dinner table, but she could be pointing at the bookshelf you knocked over. You don’t care which it is.

“Oh, that’s fine,” you say, moving towards the sink and taking a glass from the counter to fill it. When you turn around, a full glass in your aching hand, Minovae–or at least a large blob you assume is Minovae–is, indeed, sitting at the kitchen table. It’s a comical sight once you come closer. You have furnished your apartment with furniture made for smallfolk, so she is sitting in a chair too small for her, her knees poking above the top of the table. “Here you are,” you say, sliding the glass towards her before retreating to the wall opposite her.

“Thank you,” she says, taking the glass and taking a long sip. “Oh, that’s nice after a long walk.”

You stare at her flatly. You’re fairly sure she invited herself in because she found your appearance concerning. Now that she’s probably even more concerned, you’re morbidly curious as to what excuse she’ll make for why she still can’t leave.

“So, you did all that just since Giliys left with the kids?” Minovae asks, gesturing towards the den.

Ah, so she’s dispensing with subtlety entirely. Then you can do so, as well. “Despite my appearance, I am not so senile as to need a minder. You should go back to enjoying the day with your family.”

“You’re my family, too. And…” she hesitates “...I’m worried about you.”

“Because my face is blank,” you say. There are other reasons, you’re sure–your appearance, the den, your missing glasses, your absence from the picnic–but you’re not willing to discuss any of them, so you ignore them.  “Believe it or not, this is my natural level of expression. After the bleaching, my emotions became…muted, but also disconnected. My face doesn’t naturally express much emotion. People find that unsettling, of course, so I learned to put on a face for them. Best not lend any credence to the idea I didn’t have emotions anymore.”

“Don’t tell me people believe that nonsense!” she exclaims in disbelief.

“One of my childhood best friends became completely hostile towards me because she believed it. Tried to get me fired several times. Even tried to steal Qweck away from me once,” you say, and while she does a good job of keeping it from her face, the way her tail is squirming in agitation tells you she’s furious on your behalf. 

“So you learned to put on an act for them, because otherwise they would treat you like a pariah,” Minovae says, and you think you hear a note of bitter sympathy as she does.

“It’s not exactly an act–I think of it more like speaking a foreign language. My thoughts are in my native tongue, but my native tongue won’t be understood. So instead I speak as the locals do. Through facial expressions.” You briefly put on a wry, if somewhat melancholic, smile before again dropping the mask. “I just don’t have the energy today, I’m afraid. The change in the weather aggravated my hands. Better I stay home and rest for the day.”

“It’s not just today, though, is it?” she asks with a gentleness that feels patronizing. “You’ve been feeling…off…for awhile. Mayhew let me look at his sketchbook. And I accidentally saw–”

“His artistic impression of his father moping at the kitchen table,” you say, and you are glad she can’t see how exposed you feel by that.

Mayhew’s style is unusual, especially for a child of his mental age. He senses people’s emotions as naturally as you hear sounds, and that colors the way he sees the world to such an extent that “realism” to him means conveying feelings even at the expense of physical form. He usually does this through his use of color, choosing colors based on the mood. Mayhew’s most recent portrait of you, however, was more than just a recolored portrait. He drew your face, shattered and distorted like a broken mirror, against a dark red background, with black seeping through the cracks in your face like some kind of anti-light.

“He said that he made it to show you that your feelings are lying to you,” she continues.

“Did he now?”

Of course he did. Mayhew is a child–your child–and he’s idolized you since the day you met. Gilly calls him Junie–short for Theo, Jr–and it’s not just because of the resemblances in your coloration and mannerisms. Mayhew thinks the world of you, dreams of being like you, and this is the time of year when you remember just how unworthy you are of his esteem. Of course he thinks your feelings are lying. 

You hadn’t realized that was what he was trying to show you, though. It felt like a very correct portrait to you, so you had assumed he finally saw through you.

“He’s worried about you,” Minovae says. You lean back against the wall with a soft sigh through your nose.

“I know. I know he is.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“Well, stop that,” you say, almost immediately kicking yourself for it. She isn’t used to deadpan Theoven. “That was a joke,” you clarify.

“I’m serious. You don’t seem alright.”

You close your eyes, bracing yourself. Clearly, she isn’t going to leave until you've given her some kind of explanation. You choose your words carefully before you open your eyes and speak. “It’s nothing permanent. It’s just a few bad days–entirely expected. It should subside sometime next week. Anniversaries of mistakes prompt reflection. And reflection is not always a nice experience.” You force a friendly smile to cap off the reassurance. “But I’m sure you don’t want to hear about that.”

“I want you to be alright.”

“My dear, you are several years too late for that.” You can’t see her expression from where you’re standing, but the lack of reaction tells you the joke fell flat. “That was also a joke,” you clarify.

“One that you believe.”

“Of course. Those are the best kinds of jokes.” 

She sighs heavily. “Just…is there something I can do?”

You shake your head. “No. It is too late for anything to be done. I checked. It can’t be helped now.”

“I meant to help you.”

“I know.” Because what else could help you? You are like this because you are guilty. The only way to get rid of the guilt is to pluck out its source–and that can’t be done.

“Are you sure nothing can be done? I’m willing to help–there are things I can do that most can’t.”

“Yes, things such as running the first successful Mendevian Crusade in decades, closing the worldwound, and convincing my brother to marry. But even the great Knight-Commander herself can’t resurrect a soul that’s already been judged.” The bitter words slip out before you can stop them. You stop to center yourself before–

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Do not patronize me!” you snap, and you immediately regret it. You close your eyes and breathe in deeply. Balance, you remind yourself. She is tearing open old wounds. She is trying to help. Both can be true. Both are true. Let that guide your words. “I’m sorry. That was rude. And uncalled for. I just…I don’t like that phrase. It…” 

You search for words to explain safely, but can find none. There is no safe way to explain the way it grates for other people to apologize to you for a loss that is entirely your fault. 

“Would you like to talk about it?” she asks.

“No.” Of course you don’t want to talk about it–you haven’t even told Gilly about it. He assumes this annual pity-party is about your arrest. He’s right, partly. It’s just that it’s not the arrest itself that haunts you.

Leave Mister Theo alone!

Minovae doesn’t hear the cry echoing through the years. She only hears the silence that rings after you say no. Perhaps now she’ll understand that you want her to leave.

“You’re going to need help if you’re going to clean this mess up before Giliys and the kids get home.”

“By the gods, do you ever stop?” you demand, fixing her with an exhausted glare. “What do I have to say to make you go? Are you going to stay until I tell you about her? Is that it? Gilly gave you our address, so now you’re entitled to see me bare my soul to–” you cut yourself off. You’re putting words into her mouth, expecting her to read your mind and know you want her to leave when you haven’t told her that’s what you want. “I’m sorry. That was unfair of me. What I’m trying to say is that I need to be alone today.”

She doesn't answer right away, seemingly needing a minute to deal with the whiplash of your outburst and immediate apology. You can’t blame her. 

“Would it be alright for me to clean up while you rest?” she finally asks.

You stare at her, trying to search her face for sincerity but unable to make out her facial expressions without your glasses. She seems to have gotten her tail back under control, so the only clue you’ll get to her intentions (without squinting and moving closer like an old man in the comedies, at least) is her tone. “Why?”

“Because Mayhew is worried about you, and I think coming home to something like this will make it worse. And I don’t think you’ll be able to do it by yourself in the state you’re in.”

She’s right. She’s absolutely right. You’re a mess, and it’s hurting the children, and you can’t fix it yourself. And even if being alone is what you want, it’s not what’s best for your children.

Maybe it’s not even best for you.

You lean your head back against the wall and do your best to swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m sorry,” you finally say. “You shouldn’t have to spend your day off cleaning up after me. This is why I didn’t go today–none of you should have to put up with this. Especially not without warning.” 

She gets up from her comically undersized chair and approaches you. She’s short for tallfolk, but you’re so small that she still towers over you. She puts her hands on your shoulders and looks down at you with an expression of earnest care.

“I understand if you didn’t have the energy, or if you didn’t want to be seen like this. But if it’s for our sakes, I think both Regill and I would rather that you let us help you.” She hesitates, and then says “I would rather that you let me help you.”

You don’t want that. You don’t want to be a burden. But you also know that mentality isn’t healthy–and how many times have your attempts not to be a burden hurt the people you were afraid of inconveniencing? You take a long, deep breath and remind yourself: when you feel the urge to do something self-destructive, do the opposite. 

You bow your head, staring at the floor. “I think I will work on the mess. I don’t think lying in bed will help me much.” You have to fight yourself to get the next words out. “If you…want to help…I would appreciate it. Just…” you pause, wanting to make sure you say the right words, wanting to be fair but firm. You raise your head, looking her in the eye as you speak. “Do not ask me about it anymore. I don’t want to discuss it.”

She leans over and kisses you on the crown of your head. “I understand. I’m sorry for pushing.”

You take another breath. Breathe. “You were–are–worried. I can’t hold that against you.” You turn your head towards the mess of blurry shapes that used to be the den. “You know, without my glasses, it looks much less intimidating from here. We should consider cleaning from here. And if we find my glasses it might be effective to re-lose them. It may be easier.”

There’s a moment of silence, and for the third time you’re kicking yourself for forgetting she’s not used to picking your jokes out from the rest of your words without tone markers. You’re about to clarify–“that was a joke”–when she snorts.

She isn’t fluent in your native tongue, but you think she might be learning–and that means everything.

#pwotr pals #pathfinder wotr #friend's oc #oc: minovae arangeir #oc: theoven derenge #ockiss24

[eagle-raider]

I did a thing!

I wrote! So I don't know what's taken over me, but I did a thing. This is really rough because I haven't touched my keyboard for unwork related stuff in a year, be gentle. Please.

This would probably be slotted in chapter whatever after the next chapter of EOTB (does that even make sense?). I had this scene in my head since 2020. For your viewing pleasure.

--

It had been a few hours since Kassandra had found her, the angry winds had turned into a howling storm that had forced them to find shelter in one of the abandoned houses from the village on the outskirts of the valley.

Lara hadn’t taken her eyes away from Kassandra, not when they took off their armor, not when she broke a wooden chair and used its legs to feed the fire, and especially not now, as they laid near the makeshift fireplace, face to face.

“What is it with you and the staring?”

Lara shrugged one shoulder, her eyes trailing across Kassandra’s throat. “I've missed you.” she saw it bob with Kassandra’s snort.

“Shouldn't I be the one saying that. I haven't seen you in months.”

Her fingers rose, curling around a strand of Lara's hair and tucking it behind her ear before cupping Lara’s cheek. Kassandra felt Lara lean into her touch, but not close her eyes.

“It wasn't you,” she said simply.

That, Kassandra knew all too well. Her lips twitched up in a half-smile. "You can tell us apart?"

She had expected a pointed stare, a scoff at the mere notion that Lara couldn't possibly tell Kassandra from her younger self. But Lara only took a deep breath, and blinked slowly before nodding.

Her curiosity picked, Kassandra decided to investigate further. "What gives it away?"

"The eyes," Lara said, her own trailing across Kassandra’s face.

She was taking her in, committing every little mole, crevice and scar to memory, like she hadn’t done so with her lips already. Kassandra felt the weight of Lara’s gaze like a physical touch.

A gust of wind whistled through the gaps of the old wood covering the window. Kassandra suppressed a shiver.

"I look at you differently," she conceded, carrying on their discussion. That made sense.

Lara shook her head, "Not just me. Everything. There's…" she trailed off, pursing her lips. "Longing. Melancholia in the way you look at the world. This world."

Like you’ve already lost it.

“There’s wonder as well,” Lara’s eyes were shining chocolate brown under the firelight. She smiled fondly, “Like you’re rediscovering things for the first time.”

Kassandra could only nod along. “I am. There’s so much I had forgotten, or made myself forget…” she wouldn’t have been able to keep sane, if not for that.

“I know,” Lara whispered, inching closer as she ran her fingers through Kassandra’s hair. “I understand.”

For so long, Kassandra had wished she could have had just a drop of the Lethe river. To ease her mind, let her sorrows drift along, to be carried away by the currents.

“Do you wish you could forget things?” she asked, the thought now entering her mind. “From your past?”

Lara’s fingers kept their motion, but her eyes had lost their focus, staring at the dip of Kassandra’s throat. She mulled over the question for a long time, letting the cracking and popping sound of burning wood fill the silence between them, along with the pitter patter of the rain outside.

“No.”

Kassandra perked up. “No?”

Lara shook her head and wetted her lips. “My memories, they… they made me who I am,” her voice was low, but certain. “They’ve carried me, they've protected me. They’ve shaped me. And they’ve led me here. To you,” she smiled. “I wouldn’t change a thing. I don’t want to forget. I won’t.”

“I love you.”

Lara’s widening eyes was the only indication of what had just come out of Kassandra’s mouth. Rather than let panic creep and nestle between her ribs to squeeze at her heart, Kassandra repeated it.

“I love you,” and because this still felt like it wasn’t enough somehow, she added, “Please never forget it.”

This wasn’t how (or when, or where) Kassandra wanted it to happen, but she refused to take it back.

Lara hadn’t said anything yet, but the initial torpor was gone. Something flashed in her eyes, then slowly, timidly her lips curved up, revealing the most beautiful smile Kassandra had ever seen.

“I won’t.”

#What is this even #Kassandra #Lara Croft #Eotb #Fanfic #Eye of the beholder #I don't know don't ask me #I'm not sure I got their voices right #But I finally wrote something #writing

[tinyboxxtink]

"Summer Of '87" [Chapter 9]

Chapter 8

Chapter 10

Heyyyy, she's a little faster this time!

I'm working to put out chapters guys, I really am. I just want them to be quality. i hope you stick with me and share with your followers!

This does get a little spicy, so caution when you read! <3

Tag List:

@gingertimelord

@witchwolflea

@loliakeoghan23

@fancytragedything

@eg-dr3amer3

@wanniiieeee

------------

You were pacing back and forth in your room while muttering to yourself how stupid you were when there was a knock on the door. 

“Eddie I just need a minute, okay--” 

“It’s not Eddie,” Dustin’s voice came through the door. 

You immediately ran over and swung the door open to reveal Dustin standing there with a neutral look on his face.

“Hey..” you hesitantly greeted him while looking both ways down your hall to see if he was alone. 

“Eddie said we should talk. Alone,” Dustin said when he realized what you were doing. 

“Oh!” You exclaimed rather loudly, making an embarrassed face. “Sure, come on in.”

Dustin walked in and admired your room for a moment before speaking. 

“Wow, this room is probably half the size of my whole house,” he spoke quietly. “Must’ve been nice growing up here.”

“Eh,” you shrugged, causing a laugh from him.

“Oh yeah I’m sure it was so hard, with your huge room and pool,” he rolled his eyes, but didn’t speak as harshly as he had been.

“Pools aren’t everything, Dustin,” you said simply. “My parents were barely around since I can even remember. Dad always with his ‘business meetings’ across the country and mom drinking herself into a coma over them….” 

“Because of me,” Dustin thought out loud.

“No!” You assured him as you took both of his hands. “No. My mother never knew about you, I promise. But-- your mom wasn’t the first, and she wasn’t the last.” 

“So we’ve got a ton of siblings then?” he raised an eyebrow. 

“God I hope not,” you half laughed. “All I’ve found is you. I think he was extra careful after that. And before. You were just--”

“A fluke.” he sighed as he sat on your bed. “An accident. A bastard,” 

“NO,” you sat on the bed with him. “No. You, Dustin Henderson, are no fluke.”

“You don’t even know me,” he looked at you sadly. “How do you know that?”

“Eddie told me,” you smiled. “He told me everything you did to save WIll, and fight the Demogorgan, Mind Flayer, and Vecna. That’s pretty bad ass, if you ask me. And just think where your friends would be if you didn’t exist,”

“I mean, I’m sure they would’ve handled it--”

“But Eddie wouldn’t be alive.” You reminded him with a nudge. “You saved him, Dustin. You’re his hero. 

“No way,” he chuckled with his toothy grin. “He’s my hero.”

“Hey,  there’s no rules that say you can’t be each other’s heroes,” you told him with a nudge. 

“But, Steve and the others really saved him. I couldn’t carry him outta there,” 

“Hey, don’t discredit yourself. Eddie told me he fought like hell to stay alive. For you. Not for anyone else in your little friend group.”

“R-Really?” he seemed very taken aback by that as tears lined his eyes. 

“Of course!” you playfully shoved him. “If anyone’s worth living for, it’s my little brother.” 

You stopped suddenly after the words escaped your lips. You hadn’t meant to just jump the shark like that, and this was going so well. You inhaled sharply as you waited for Dustin to get angry again. But to your surprise, he didn’t. He actually smiled. 

“Yeah,” he nodded his head with a soft voice. 

“So, does this mean you accept--?”

“I don’t wanna say I accept anything,” he clarified. “I don’t wanna meet this guy, or--”

“You don’t have to.” you shook your head. “I promise you that. You never have to meet him.”

“Well,” he bit his lip. “Okay. Sissy,” 

“Sissy,” you smiled. “I like that,” 

“Y’know--” he sighed. “I wasn’t mad that you and Eddie were, y’know…”

“We’re NOT doing--” 

“That’s why i’m mad,” he interjected. “I just want you guys to be honest with me. That’s all.”

“Alright,” you cleared your throat. “Honestly? We do like each other. A lot. But I swear to you Dustin we both said from the beginning that we wouldn’t…’be’ anything until you were okay with it. And the kiss-- it was a mistake,” 

“So you don’t wanna be with him now?”

“No! You waved your hands. “No, I definitely do. I just mean, we should’ve stuck to our promise about not doing ANYTHING without your consent. It was a moment of weakness. I swear. We haven’t done anything else.” 

Okay so you left out the one other time, but that wasn’t a big deal, right?

“...I consent,” he said with a laugh. “I mean, I don’t care if you’re together. Although it’s kinda hard to think of my brother and my sister dating,” 

“Ew,” you made a face. “Dustin! Not like that,” 

“I know, I know.” he pat your shoulder. “I’m just razzing you sissy,”

“Alright goober,” You shook your head. “Let’s head back down before they think we killed each other.”

-------------------

After you two were finished talking, you made your way to the TV room to find El and Max asleep on the big comfy couches. Then you headed back downstairs to the living room. Everyone had passed out in front of the TV while NEVERENDING STORY played. Eddie was in the kitchen nervously sipping coffee, waiting for your talk to be over.

“You should get some sleep,” you told Dustin as you waved to Eddie. 

“I’m not even--” he yawned. “Tired,”

“Hey, as your newly appointed sissy, I say you need to go to bed.” you ruffled his hair. Surprisingly, he let you. 

“But I hate sleeping on the floor,” he pouted. 

“Tell you what,” you lead him back to the kitchen where the stairs were. “You can take one of the guest rooms upstairs. A bed and bathroom to yourself.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. We’ll call it your room.” you winked. 

“My room?” he asked in astonishment. “But what if--”

“I told you Dust,” you now used a nickname. “They’re never here. And it’s not like we’ll spend tons of time here. But, at least for the summer, you can stay here all you want. Cool?”

“Cool!” he grinned as he ran over and hugged you. “Thanks, sissy,” 

“No problem bro,” you giggled. Dustin said good night to Eddie and then ran upstairs to find the biggest room he could claim. 

“So,” You now focused your attention on Eddie as you sat in his lap. 

“Oooh,” Eddie smiled as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “I take it the talk went well?” 

“It did,” you nodded with a sly smile. “He gave us the green light,” 

“He DID?” Eddie’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yes,” you giggled. “He said he just wanted us to be honest with him about it,”

“I mean--” he chuckled. “Does that mean we have to go tell him I’m about to ravish you?” 

“Eddie!!” you hit him. “You’re not ‘ravishing’ anything tonight. Not with the whole Scooby gang in the house,” 

“Scooby gang?” he laughed. “And why not?!” 

“Because horn dog,” you pushed a finger to his chest. “You can wait one more night.”

“I might not,” he put a hand over his heart. “I might die of anticipation,” 

“Hey--” you swung your other leg around his waist so you were straddling him. “Anticipation makes if more fun…” 

You had lowered your voice and stroked his hair behind his ear with a devilish smirk. You instantly felt a bulge in his pants, making you giggle. 

“So,” he gulped. 

“So--” you stood up. “That doesn’t mean we can’t-- ease the tension a little bit,” you bit your lip with a smirk, trying not to stare at his hard on through his jeans. 

“R-Realy?” he gulped harder.

“Really,” you walked up to him, inches from his face. “Boyfriend,” 

 “Boyfriend,” Eddie repeated with stars in his eyes. “Y’know…I’ve never been anyone’s boyfriend before.”

“Seriously?” you had to laugh but stopped quickly when you saw the sad look on his face. 

“Oh. Well, there’s a first time for everything.” you smiled before pulling him into a long, luxurious kiss. One you both could enjoy free of guilt or anxiety. 

“Mmm,” he pulled back just a tad. “Let’s go work that tension out girlfriend,” 

He resumed kissing you as he carried you upstairs, you both suppressing moans and giggles all the way to your room. 

-------------

As soon as the door shut behind you, Eddie had you on your bed laid backwards, climbing on top of you while his lips never left yours. 

���Eddie--” you took a breath. “I said no--” 

“I know, I know,” he nodded as he backed off. “I’m sorry, I just--” 

“Excited?” you smiled as you wiped your lipstick from his face. 

“Yeah,” he blushed. 

You couldn’t blame him. You had been wet since the moment you sat on his lap, and you were currently trying not to stare at the stain you’d left. But your eyes betrayed you, as Eddie noticed and glanced down, his own smirk crawling across his mouth. 

“Looks like someone else is too,” he smirked.

“Hey!!” you swatted at him as your face turned bright red. “I can’t help it,”

“Mmm, yeah?” He smirked while pushing you back on your pillows. “Then why hold back, princess?” 

“Mmm….” you were trying desperately to remember why you were holding back, your mind was too clouded with lust. 

“C’mon sweetheart, I promise not to be too loud,”

“I can’t echo that statement Eddie,”

“Ooooh, a screamer are we?” he giggled as he ran his fingers up your arms, causing you to shiver. 

“Yeah…” you sighed happily, already in a daze. 

“I can handle that,” he licked his lips as he slightly grinded against you. 

“No!” you suddenly grabbed a moment of sanity, remembering Dustin. “No, we can’t…not tonight, Eddie,” 

“....Okay, baby.” he nodded, backing off immediately. 

You smiled to yourself seeing how chivalrous he was. He kissed your forehead and got up to go to the bathroom. 

“Where are you going?” you asked with furrowed eyebrows. 

“I gotta get rid of this hard on before I can sleep somehow, Princess,” he stuck his tongue out before heading into the bathroom.

“Oh my god,” you shook your head and put your hands on your face as you laid back with giggles.

----------------------

if you llke what you read, please considering buying me a Ko-Fi☕, it's the only source of income I have right now. https://ko-fi.com/tinyboxtink

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things 4

[everlark777]

holding you is like the new past

next | previous

chapter three

“can you believe that asshole” i slam my hands down.

“STAY OUT OF MY WAY?? i am here at this school and i earned my place. how dare he!”

our cat, titan’s head poked up and looked around lazy from all the yelling.

“i can't believe him. everyone in the department should know how ruthless he is”

mikasa had been egging on my anger for the past ten minutes as we ate microwaveable ramen on the couch. mikasa and i had been living together for two years and she had seen her fair share of my outrages involving anyone and everyone in the department, but i could tell this one was tiring her out. it had been all i could talk about for the past week and with the next class being tomorrow, i could tell mikasa didn’t see a break in this anger for a while.

“i’m sorry. i know i’ve been talking about this with you so much” i said head in my hands.

“it’s just i can’t believe him. he actually thinks like that, and to think i had a slight crush on him?! i don’t even want to have a conversation with him much less spend my time with him”

“your feelings are valid, he is a douchebag and you’re going to prove him wrong, i know you will”

mikasa’s words calmed me. i didn’t have to follow his rules, much less listen to a word he says.

“i’m going to go research for our project” i said standing up heading towards my room.

“atta girl!! good for you” mikasa beamed up at me clearly happy to see my change of attitude.

i cracked my door leaving space for titan to come in. i turned on my lamp and opened my laptop. okay, I could accomplish this. It was 9:07, if i started right now i could easily finish around 2 a.m. and still get a few hours of sleep. but i should probably make some coffee beforehand.

—--

i ended up not going to sleep that night, but the next day i walked into class with most of our first project researched out.

i made sure to be early just so i could have the upper hand and made sure to sit in the seat he had “claimed” last class.

armin walked in ten minutes early but still not earlier than me. i made sure not to look up and meet his gaze but felt him when he sat down.

with less than a glance, i handed him a folder with the research i worked on all last night. i had placed a sticky note on top. in neat handwriting, much like his own said, “my half of the research, do with it what you will”.

i felt the small smile creep on my face as i watched him read it.

“what is this?” he scoffed, not as much a question as a demand.

“thought it was pretty obvious” my voice came out sterner than i thought it would and felt a ting of pride.

armin made a face i couldn’t quite place. “well, i thought i made it obvious you wouldn’t have to do any work,” he said as he sat in the seat next to me. once again i felt the nervousness of him being so close and it made me jumpy. his presence intimidated me and i wasn’t sure how i was going to be around him for much longer.

“and i’m making it obvious that i don’t agree with that,” my voice came out strong not letting in on how fast my heart was beating and my palms sweating.

i’m not a confrontational person. i don’t enjoy going out of my comfort zone to defend myself either, but something about armin had me not willing to give in.

“i’ll look over it after class and get back to you” he shrugged off the words as he placed his things on the desk.

i was taken back. did he just give in so easily? why did he not continue to fight back? unless he has some ulterior motive? maybe he thought i would go to the dean?

“so that’s it, you're just going to look over it?” i turned to him, clearly taken aback.

“what else would you like me to do?” his question almost sounded genuine.

i began to lose grip on my perception of him. he made me more angry than i’ve ever felt but now i found myself just confused.

when i started my response, i was cut off by the professor as they started the lecture. i forced my attention up front, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of my answer. he would have been able to see it written on my face, that he surprised me.

i fidgeted all class, i bounced my leg and picked at the skin on my fingers. i found myself abruptly changing highlighters for my notes, anything to keep myself busy to help the time past.

when class ended i quickly packed my things, ready to go out the door before noticing armin hadn’t moved. he was looking at me as if he was waiting for a response. i allowed myself to glance at him and i saw him give me a small smile.

“do you need something? i have somewhere to be” i snapped, lying to get away as quickly as possible.

armin reached into his bag to grab a sticky note and began writing on it.

“here’s my number then so we can talk about the project another time” he handed me the sticky note and written in his perfect handwriting was his name and number.

“i can just talk about it now” i forced out, not being able to imagine having to talk to him outside of this classroom. the idea made my head hurt.

“well you said you had somewhere to be. i would hate to make you late” he offered politely.

more confused than ever, i turned and walked out of the door leaving him with his things still out on the desk. my head was spinning. confusion for the whole situation consuming my thoughts. i walked out of the building and started my journey back to my apartment.

when i got home, i attached the sticky note still in my hand to the fridge for mikasa to see when she got home and with that crashed into my bed to finally get some sleep.

#armin x reader #armin aot #armin arlert #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #fanfic

[laventadorn]

old NJE cut scene

this isn't from chapter 14, but i was going through some scenes i'd cut from NJE ages ago and found this. in case anyone was interested in seeing alternate scenes/cuts, i thought i'd share it. i don't leave myself extensive notes and i'm kind of wondering why i cut this one out? it's got some bits i quite like!

this was from the chapter where snape, sirius, and harriet are going to sneak away from grimmauld place to rescue draco, who's gone missing in austria. it's just a scene of them prepping.

Sirius was very excited with this plan to run off to Austria to rescue Draco Malfoy. Harriet suspected he was eager to get out of Grimmauld Place and go abroad. His and Remus’ trip to the werewolves hadn’t exactly been a holiday. He’d come back after those long months with a scroungy beard and his hair matted and filthy: if not as bad as he’d been after escaping Azkaban, then at least a far cry from a guest anyone would want at their house party. Remus had once said that Sirius got antsy if stuck in one place for too long; from hearing Sirius talk, she also knew he had a thirst for adventure.

He was zealously applying himself to the business of planning, sneaking, packing, and disguising. In one of Grimmauld Place’s chipped bathrooms, he’d helped Harriet comb some magical paste through her hair that made it grow a foot in ten seconds (they’d overdone it and she’d wound up with hair enough for them to have dangled it out the window and climbed to the street), and then, after a judicious trim, had rubbed Sleekeazy’s in it until it was only wavy rather than a snarled mass. 

“Where’d you learn how to do this?” she’d asked, staring at the girl with long, almost-straight hair and her face in the mirror.

“Your granddad invented this stuff. You didn’t know?” Sirius scrubbed his paste-sticky hand with a flannel. “For your grandmother -- that’s who that crazy hair comes from, and she always complained about it, how it wouldn’t behave itself any better than Prongs did. So he fixed up this stuff. It’s the only thing that can hold your, hah, in-hair-itance.”

“Painfully bad, Sirius.” Harriet’s hand hovered over her now-sleek hair, nervous that she’d undo all his work if she touched it and die strangled by her own hair as it came back to life like a Devil’s Snare, twice as angry as before. “Parvati tried some of this stuff on my hair at the Yule Ball, but I only ended up looking Medusa.”

“You’ve got to heat it a bit before you apply it. Your gran used to take a full hour at this -- wore these elaborate braids and jeweled pins like a duchess.” 

He kept rubbing the flannel over his fingers, his gaze far away, and compassion filled Harriet’s throat. She’d always longed for stories like these, but she hadn’t known them the way Sirius did. That made it a different kind of pain.

“Anyway.” His gaze refocused and he smiled, lopsided. “Let’s put it under a scarf or something so nobody knows how we’ve changed it -- it’ll spoil the disguise if they all know about it before we make our great escape. You can tell everyone you’re straightening it. I doubt anyone in this house will have any clue.”

Snape did give her a funny look when she reappeared wearing a beryl-green scarf around her head, but then he returned to his default expression of probably wishing to shove a bradawl between Sirius’ ears. 

“I’ve got the Polyjuice,” he said, like he was sad it wasn’t poison. 

“You can’t have made it just now,” Harriet said, remembering the ages it had taken when Hermione had brewed it up in second year. “D’you just carry it around?”

“It would hardly help me be prepared if I left it at home.”

“Hairs, too?” she asked curiously. 

“I can’t go raiding the heads of passerby whenever I need to disappear, can I?”

Harriet brushed off his sarcasm. She remembered the stranger he’d become last summer at the World Cup; it would be interesting to watch the transformation from the other side. Plus, it was deeply intriguing to know that Snape apparently carried around everything he needed to maintain a disguise at any given moment. She’d always thought he was more of a hiding-in-plain-sight spy. 

A yell came from downstairs, followed by sounds of an angry gong and a crash. Sirius nipped out Regulus’ bedroom door and then back in again a moment later. 

“Moony’s got it,” he said, shutting the door with a snap. “That old grandfather clock started spitting bolts when they tried to move it. But that means we should split up.” He grimaced in reply to Harriet’s curious look. “Moony always knows when I’m scheming.”

“He’s had ample opportunity to develop the sense,” Snape said snidely, and got a rude gesture in reply. 

“Should I go help them?” Harriet asked. 

“You should use the distraction to pack,” Sirius said, steering her toward the door. “While everyone’s downstairs. I’ll go help.”

Harriet wanted to ask, ‘What if Snape sneaks off without us?’ Snape didn’t look to be in any shape to make it very far without them, but he did look better. What if that was all it took? He was bloody-minded enough to try.

She took the stairs two at a time, cast a quick gander around the room to make sure it was Ginny-free, and then tossed open her trunk and grabbed some clothes at random. It wasn’t like she had a great variety to choose from, but a bit of everything would cover any weather eventualities. The Invisibility Cloak and her wand mattered more. She tied it all up in one of her dresses, stuck her head in the hall to make sure the coast was clear, and was back in Regulus’ room in time to hear Sirius proposing that they should escape across the rooftops. 

“If that was something you wanted to do in your ill-advised youth,” Snape said, “you’ve missed your chance. I am not hieing across the bloody rooftops when I can walk out the front door.”

“Killjoy. Why am I not surprised? That was fast,” he said in surprise as Harriet handed him her bundle. “You’re made for this getting the heck outta dodge. What do you say to escaping over the rooftops, ey?”

“How’d we get down to street-level?” she asked, smiling, while Snape rolled his eyes so hard that it was a wonder they didn’t stick backwards in his head.

“Scale the fire escape,” Sirius said promptly. 

“I think we should save that for when we really need it.”

“I think you can never have too many rooftop escapes, but I see I’m outvoted. What lousy curriculum are they teaching at Hogwarts these days?” 

“We’ll wait until the others are asleep,” Snape said, ignoring him with a scathing air. “Then be off. We could probably slip out with all the racket they’re making--” They all paused to listen to a cacophony of clangs, twangs, and bangs, which sounded a lot like the grandfather clock plummeting down several flights of stairs. “--but we want the longest period of time possible before they notice we’ve gone.”

“Is Remus going to be okay without you?” Harriet asked Sirius. “Transforming, I mean.”

“Yeah. Like he said, that trip we took back in the spring solved it. He doesn’t need me or the Wolfsbane anymore.”

A/N: snape and sirius are BFF's and they dont even know it

#laventadorn's adventures in writing stuff #tner tag

[projectbluearcadia]

Epilogue

Solomon: Simeon, about the other day, when Anne confided in you... you wouldn’t happen to have noticed anything... odd, would you?

Simeon: Odd? 

Solomon: Well... Ever since she gave me some of her blood to analyze, I’ve been puzzling over it because it was so bizarre. 

Simeon: Well, Anne is already a bit of an odd case...

Solomon shakes his head. 

Solomon: It’s weird enough that Barachiel was found and opened, let alone the fact that it changed Anne from human to demon, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Annelie isn’t a succubus. 

Simeon: ...what?

Solomon: I shouldn’t say she isn’t one. She is, but she’s a very specific kind of succubus. 

Simeon: Which is?

Solomon: Well... you remember how Lucifer mentioned Barachiel called him Prince Charming?

Simeon: Was that while Lucifer was lecturing you?

Solomon chuckles uncomfortably. 

Solomon: ...yeah. I don’t think Barachiel was trying to make fun of him. I think Annelie might be a Queen. 

Simeon: A Queen Succubus? 

Solomon: I don’t think she’s matured yet, but yes. 

Simeon: ...I feel a bit stupid for asking, but what’s a “Queen Succubus”? 

Solomon: You shouldn’t. They’re supposed to be extinct. From what I could find in the records, the previous demon lord had them all killed. 

Simeon: What? Why?

Solomon: I don’t know. But it seems like Queen Succubi were... quite dangerous, and not in a good way. 

Simeon: Danger can be good?

Solomon: ...Simeon, sometimes I can’t tell if you’re actually pure or just an airhead. 

Simeon: Eh?

Solomon: Anyway, there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary about her?

Simeon: Well... 

Solomon: There was something?

Simeon: I’m not sure if I’d call it odd, but she smelled pretty strongly of gloxinia. It kind of made my head spin a little. She probably sprayed too much perfume because she was angry with Lucifer though. 

Solomon: That sounds plausible, considering how much she loves those flowers, but... I’ll keep researching. Keep me posted. 

[ meanwhile, back in the human world ]

Lucifer chuckles as Annelie hugs Lucifer’s arm.

Lucifer: Someone is very clingy this morning.

Annelie: Problem?

Annelie nuzzles his shoulder. 

Lucifer: I really don’t have a problem, but I think sitting on my lap was a little much for breakfast.

Annelie: I fixed the problem I made, didn’t I?

Lucifer: Yes, yes you did. Hm? Belphie, why are you awake so early?

Belphie: I could ask you the same question, but I know exactly why. 

Belphegor yawns. 

Annelie: Good morning, Belphegor. 

Belphie: Morning. Do me a favor and gag Lucifer next time, would you? The last thing I need to hear is my older brother moaning at 2 in the morning while his girlfriend rides him.  

Lucifer coughs and Annelie flushes.

Annelie: Sorry. 

Belphie: “Sorry” doesn’t replace my sleep. If someone’s moans are going to wake me, I’d prefer they were yours. 

Lucifer: Oi. 

Annelie: Uh, breakfast? We had chocolate-filled croissants. They’re really good. 

Annelie gestures to the assortment of breakfast foods available. 

Belphie: Nice. I’ll bring one to Beel. 

Belphie picks up two and gnaws the tip off the first as he walks away.

Annelie: Sorry, Lucifer. 

Lucifer: If anyone is at fault, it’s me. 

Annelie: ...does that mean I can still dominate you a little?

Lucifer: Control is taken, darling. 

Annelie: I didn’t hear a no. 

Lucifer chuckles and kisses her temple. 

Lucifer: And?

Annelie: And I’m going to take it. 

She kisses his cheek with a smirk, and Lucifer smirks back. 

Lucifer: I see last night was wonderful for your self-esteem.

Annelie: Well, there’s definitely something to be said about having the Great and Powerful Lucifer under me begging for release.

Lucifer: Is that a challenge?

Annelie: I don’t know, is it?

They both giggle evilly while Lucifer’s siblings watch them from the doorway.

Levi: ...

Beel: ...

Mammon: ...

Asmo: ...

Satan: ...this bullshit is going to become normal, isn’t it?

Sapphire World

"The Fears I Wear" / END

[ thank you for reading! ]

#these poor guys #i smell part 3 #obey me lucifer #obey me shall we date #shameless #self indulgence #fanfiction #obey me! #LuciAnne

[wheredafandomat]

Two slow dancers

Loki x female avenger reader

Chapter 7 - realisation

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Storming towards Lokis room, Bucky found himself growing angrier and angrier with Loki. The last time he spoke with you, you said you were going to ask him to the gala yet now you were crying and Loki had walked away. Who was he to reject you? Reaching his door, he didn’t bother knocking it, instead he pushed it open, forcing his way into Lokis room and resisting the urge to throw him a punch when he spotted him sitting on his bed with his head in his hands. Hearing Bucky coming in, Loki quickly tried to reposition himself to look more nonchalant but it was too late.

“You’re a jackass.” Bucky spoke, not in the angry tone he thought he was going to speak in “you’ve really upset her.”

“Yes.” Loki agreed with a mirthless laugh. “I have.”

“Why did you reject her? She’s perfect.” Bucky questioned, leaning against the wall as he glared down at Loki.

“Reject her?” Loki spoke, taken aback as he looked up at Bucky. “I saved her.”

Saved?

“She asked you to the gala and you said no. That’s rejection in my book.” Bucky explained as Loki furrowed his brows seemingly lost in his thoughts. “If you didn’t like her, you could have just said so or gone as just friends.” Bucky continued.

“L— like her?” Loki stuttered “Wait, what are you talking about?”

“She asked you to the gala and you said no. She really likes you man and now she’s bawling her eyes out.” Bucky sighed.

“She wanted to go to the gala w—with me?” Loki asked, looking back up at Bucky.

“Are you hard of hearing? What don’t you understand?” Bucky scoffed.

Loki felt his breath hitch in his throat. You liked him back. You liked him and you were about to ask him to the gala. He found himself unable to contain his smile at the thought of going with you until he remembered how he treated you and the harsh things he said a minute ago. So stupid. His face fell again.

“I’ve made a grave mistake.” He mumbled.

“So then fix it. She likes you so much that she’ll probably forgive you.” Bucky huffed “not that you deserve it.”

That’s what he’d do he’d fix it he thought.

“Out!” Loki ordered, standing to his feet as he began pushing Bucky out of his room wanting to get to work with planning how he’d make it up to you.

“I’m going I’m going.” He said, flinging his arms up as he left.

Now alone in his room, Loki internally scolded himself for upsetting you so much and allowing his stupidity get the better of him. Making his way towards his chest of draws, he opened it and took out the other scrunchie that you had gifted him that day. How could he have let childish teasing come between you both? How could he have destroyed your creation? He felt physically nauseous. He settled with the idea that perhaps you were in fact too good to him but it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t at least try and apologise to you.

Making your way back to your bedroom after calming down slightly after your confrontation with Loki, you collapsed onto your bed, finally allowing your tears to cascade down your face as opposed to the controlled sobs that had escaped you previously. Of course he didn’t actually like you or the things you had made him. Your ‘stupid gifts’. You felt silly. All this time, you were falling for someone who had no feelings for you besides strictly professional ones. Of course he didn’t. He didn’t. You internally scolded yourself for thinking Loki meant something more when he used the term partner. Damn you and your need to read further into things you sighed, burying yourself underneath your covers. Hearing the door knock, you slammed a hand over your mouth to silence yourself.

“Y/n, it’s me.” Bucky called from the other side. You remained silent. “I’m coming in, okay?” Again, you remained silent. Hearing the door open, you looked towards the door at Bucky who entered. He stopped and looked at you for a few moments before knitting his brows in sympathy and making his way to the bed. Pulling back the duvet, he settled next to you allowing you to cry into his embrace. He didn’t speak, he just soothingly rubbed circles on your back until you eventually fell into a dreamless sleep.

IM SICK OF THIS ITS TIME FOR ME TO WRITE AN ACTUAL Y/N X BUCKY FIC! HES ALWAYS THAT GUY IN MY FICS. I HAVE TO START A STRICTLY BUCKY X Y/N FIC TONIGHT!! 😂

Tags:

@michelleleewise

@mcufan72

@mischief2sarawr

@lucylaufeyson3

#loki x reader #tom hiddelston loki #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki (marvel) #oc fiction #loki x avenger reader #loki angst #reader x bucky barnes

[toast-tales]

In the World of Monsters, P18

Read on A03  |  Chapter masterlist can be found here

The gang visits the leader of the Human Rights Alliance - though one of them is a bit apprehensive about it. Contains language and mentions of g/t (safe) vore. 

Protector of Humans

It was another lazy morning the next day. Christopher's eyes fluttered open to see the sleeping human next to him, and her familiar scent once again filled his lungs warmly. He usually slept in, at least a little, but his empty stomach wouldn't let him rest with Danny being so close. Despite that, he was starting to realize it was...nice to wake up next to someone, even if it was just a human.

As he watched her sleep, he felt a strange urge to hold her closer—not to eat her, exactly (though he wouldn't say no to that). He realized he wanted to hold her the way Nathan had. Close to his body, hands wrapped around her protectively, tightly, letting the heat from his body warm her tiny, fragile figure. He wanted Danny to feel safe with him, to be...comforted by him.

You've already blown that chance, asshole. The angry Danny voice that seemed to have replaced his conscience bit back with a snarky retort.

He sighed. He really had no business feeling this way, not after what he'd done. Especially considering that some of Danny's nightmares were...probably caused by him.

Seriously, years of dealing humans, and all it took was this one—this stupid human—to reduce him to a pitiable, soft mess of a giant? He'd never been overly cruel to his stock—he at least took better care of them than Cyrus—but he'd obviously also never considered their...feelings, before. He couldn't allow himself to. So why now? Why did he feel so protective of Danny, to the point where he gave up his business...for her? For Nathan, he corrected himself. Mostly.

Had he been...having doubts about dealing, before he'd met Danny?

He didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to think about how uncertain the future was to him now, either, nor did he want to think about what he was going to do now that his source of income was gone. Maybe he could...take a different approach. Be more selective with clients. Take better care of the humans...

Goddamn Danny. He shouldn't have felt the way he did when he saw the human Sam had coughed up—the look of fear in his face was nothing new, it should have been nothing new, but all he could see was Danny's face instead. He could practically feel her body shaking in fear, lying unconscious on his kitchen table, her knees curled up against her chest...and it made him feel bad. It made his own chest twist up in knots to think about it.

He couldn't deal humans again. He wouldn't be able to get Danny out of his mind.

A soft buzzing sound broke him out of the frankly depressing train of thought he'd wandered into. His phone had vibrated with a text from Nathan, and he felt his heart jump at the name that appeared on the screen. It was actually the first text he'd received from Nathan, since they had exchanged numbers on the night he'd taken Danny home with him.

I talked to the hr leader. She wants to meet us today.

Christopher felt a nervous pang in his gut. He wasn't sure who the human rights leader was, but he was fairly certain she'd know about him.

All of us?

There was a long pause before Nathan replied.

Yes.

Christopher rolled back over and gently prodded Danny, who tried to feebly swat him away. "Hey. Wake up, dollface."

"Mrghm," she replied, pulling the sheets tighter around herself and rolling away from him.

He chuckled darkly. "You asked for it." Sheets and all, he grabbed the human's foot and hoisted her up into the air upside-down until she was level with his face. Her eyes flew open in shock before she glared at him, twisting around fruitlessly in his grasp.

"Hey! Put me down, you fucking—"

"Oh good. You're awake," he replied flatly, barely containing a guilty grin. He set her back down on the bed, resisting the urge to drop her onto the mattress to further wake her up. It wouldn't be a great time to test her fragility.

"What was that for, bastard?"

He grinned, though it was more to hide his own unease now. "It looks like we're taking a little road trip today."

* * * * * * * * * * 

Nathan pulled up with his car after breakfast. For some reason, Danny was surprised to learn that Christopher didn't have a car, though she wasn't sure why that surprised her. Her exposure to Red Tree had not been extensive, but she hadn't noticed a lot of other cars—everyone seemed to prefer walking in such a tiny town.

"I suppose it's a good thing one of us can drive, huh?" Christopher laughed slightly underneath her as he spoke, walking outside to meet Nathan. She was seated on his shoulder, his long hair brushing against her back. She would be complaining about the arrangement, although she knew she preferred it over the alternative Christopher had suggested earlier. "I didn't know you had a car, Nathan."

"It belongs to my parents. It's really just for the farm," he said, shrugging. "Sometimes we have to get supplies from pretty far out of town." He noticed Danny on Christopher's shoulder and looked like he wanted to say something about it, but didn't.

"Right. So, uh...how far is this lady, exactly?" Christopher seemed...nervous? Of course he's nervous. We're going to see the leader of a human rights organization, right? I bet they've got his face on a dartboard. Danny stifled a laugh at the mental image. Today was going to be a good day for schadenfreude.

Nathan checked his phone. "About an hour. I did say she was pretty far out of town. She apparently lives in the middle of nowhere."

"And she just...gave you her address? I thought this whole organization was supposed to be secret?" Christopher sounded dubious. "What if it's a trap?"

Nathan looked at him oddly. "What do you mean, 'trap'? It's not like I haven't met her before. She seems trustworthy, she's just a little...intense. And it sounds like she's the only one who can help us with an antidote."

"Did you, uh...did you mention it was me that was coming?"

There was a very Christopher-like smirk on Nathan's face. "After I told her Christopher Penn was helping, she insisted you come, specifically."

Danny heard Christopher swallow nervously.

"Now get in," said Nathan, walking back around to the driver's side with what seemed to be an extra spring in his step. "Or we're going to be late."

* * * * * * * * * * 

The sensation of riding in a car was oddly familiar, though Danny couldn't clearly remember being in one before. But she was sure that this was the most awkward car ride she'd ever been a part of.

Neither Christopher or Nathan spoke the entire time, and Danny wasn't about to try breaking the silence, either. The radio droned on with bright, peppy music that offered a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere surrounding them.

And to top it all off, they'd all come to the somewhat reluctant conclusion that the safest position for Danny to sit in was on Christopher's leg in the passenger seat. Christopher hadn't even suggested eating her this time—though maybe that would be less embarrassing, she thought glumly. Christopher seemed all too eager to accept his role of "seatbelt," his hand wrapped securely over her the entire ride as she kicked her legs absently, resisting the urge to lean against him—even if it was warm and probably more comfortable. He was already enjoying himself more than she liked.

They finally turned off the main road (or at least, Danny guessed as much, since she couldn't actually see much out of the window) and headed down a bumpier path. Tall pine trees began to appear next to the road, towering high and blocking out the blue sky.

"This is...way off the beaten path, for sure." Christopher seemed a bit awestruck as he gazed up at the trees.

"We're not there yet," said Nathan. He parked the car and shut off the engine. "She gave us some more instructions."

"But there's nothing here. It's just woods. I don't even see a path."

Nathan hopped out of the car, and Christopher, somewhat reluctantly, followed suit, holding Danny close as he stepped outside. She could hear an increased heartbeat in the giant's chest, thudding apprehensively as he looked around the surrounding area. There was a tenseness in the way he was holding her, like he was sensing some kind of danger.

Danny looked around as well. There was nothing unusual that she could sense, except for the fact that Nathan really had parked the car in the middle of nowhere. The road reached a dead end, and there was nothing but a forest of gigantic trees surrounding them.

"She said the path was...here," said Nathan, looking carefully in the underbrush to the side of the car. As Christopher followed him, Danny did see a very narrow (by giant standards) trail snake off into the forest. It looked more like a path for wildlife than an intentional path for giants. However, Danny did notice a few small stones set into the ground near the entrance of the path—not remarkable enough to notice if you didn't know what you were looking for, but a clear indication that Nathan was right.

"I'm not sure I like this," muttered Christopher.

"That's too bad," Nathan replied. He turned back towards Christopher and held out his hands. "Let me carry her."

There was a slight pause where Danny was afraid Christopher wasn't going to let her go, as his grip around her tightened slightly. But he relented, handing her off to Nathan with only the faintest of sighs, so quiet that Danny thought she must have been the only one to hear it. Nathan held her close to his chest with a gentle smile before making his way down the path, Christopher trailing behind.

They walked for a while before the path opened up into a large clearing, where a giant-sized house awaited them. It was a quaint cabin made of logs, looking a little smaller than Danny would have expected. Carefully placed stones laid a path to the front door, and there were wild plants growing all around. The house itself seemed like an extension of the forest.

"This is definitely her place," said Nathan, approaching the front door confidently.

Christopher muttered under his breath. "Oh good."

Nathan rapped lightly on the...oddly tall door, and they did not have to wait long for a response.

The door was opened by a large, female giant—she seemed even taller than Christopher, and Danny realized that the large doorframe must have been made for her, specifically. She wore loose, white linen clothing, and her thick, dark hair was tied back in a series of tight, elaborate braids. Danny guessed she was middle-aged, though her austere features could have placed her anywhere from Nathan's age to older than his mother.

"Hi, Sybil." Nathan waved pleasantly, and the giantess responded with a kind smile before resting her eyes first on Danny, then narrowing in Christopher's direction, then back to Danny.

"I've been expecting you all. It's very good to meet you, Danny." She had a surprisingly gentle voice, given the authority with which she held herself. Danny got the impression that Sybil's soft, yet oddly powerful voice was the result of speaking frequently with other humans.

"Nice to meet you too, um, Sybil." Nathan set Danny carefully on his shoulder so that she could speak to Sybil closer to eye level.

Sybil did not make a move to let them into the house. Instead, she cast a cold look over Nathan's other shoulder. She looked Danny in the eyes again, a more serious expression on her face. "Danny, I may not look it, but I am quite capable of handling myself against other giants. So I'd like to ask you...are both of your friends trustworthy? Do you feel safe?"

The question caught Danny off guard, but she nodded. "Y-yeah, no, I'm good. They're fine." What exactly was she going to do if I said no? Fight them?

Sybil stepped forward, past Nathan. She stood toe-to-toe with Christopher, and Danny realized she was, in fact, taller than him. By a good head, at least. "So you can vouch for Christopher Penn?" Sybil's eyes were narrowed in a steely glare. Danny turned to look at him—he was staring at Danny, wide-eyed like a deer caught in the headlights.

Danny got the sudden, chilling impression that his life was in her hands.

"Yeah, he's cool," she said with a sigh. "He's been helping me. Us," she corrected hastily. She could almost see Christopher let out a breath of relief as Sybil backed off. He gave Danny an appreciative grin, and she wrinkled her nose at him in return.

"I will take your word for it. For now." Sybil glared back at Christopher. "But do not think of trying anything while you are here, Penn." She spat the name with distaste.

"O-of course not," he replied meekly. Danny had never seen confidence leave Christopher's body so quickly before.

"Follow me," said Sybil, motioning towards the three of them. "There is much to discuss."

* * * * * * * * * * 

There was nothing immediately strange about Sybil's house, from what Danny could tell. Everything was well-kept and clean, and the rustic furniture gave it a bit of charm. There were a few modern appliances, like a fridge and a stovetop, but it otherwise seemed quite "off the grid."

She led them to what looked like a dining area and gestured for them to sit down. Nathan placed Danny on the table next to him, and Christopher took the chair furthest away from Sybil, who had chosen a seat at the head of the table. Her sharp, golden eyes fell on Danny.

"Now. Danny, I'd like you to start from the beginning, please. I thought it would be best to hear this story from you, in person."

Out of the corner of her eye, Danny noticed Christopher stiffen in his chair.

Danny wondered if she should tell Sybil everything, or if Sybil would grow suspicious if she left anything out. As much as she thought she'd enjoy watching Christopher be miserable today, she couldn't find it in her right now to go into detail about what an asshole he'd been when she first met him. Or about what he'd done to Nathan.

She decided to start with her being taken to the Black Dragon, and watched as Christopher visibly relaxed in his chair, though both he and Nathan seemed surprised that she started there. Sybil listened solemnly as she described being eaten by Gary, and Danny realized that it was the first time she'd spoken about the experience in detail. She could feel emotion rising in her voice, her throat tightening unexpectedly as she recalled the near-death experience. Nathan placed a steadying hand against her, while Christopher just stared at the floor with a stony expression.

"So Penn was the one to save you." Sybil seemed skeptical. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, Danny, but I need to clarify something first." She turned towards Christopher, who snapped his head up. "Why?"

Christopher paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. "Nathan noticed that she went missing that night, and came to me to ask where she'd gone. I didn't want him to get hurt, so I went to look for her."

Sybil's eyes narrowed. "Did he think you'd taken her?"

"Uhhh..." Christopher looked warily toward Nathan.

"I did," said Nathan. "But he hadn't." He didn't elaborate further, prompting another relieved look from Christopher. 

Sybil nodded, still a bit guarded. "Continue, Danny."

There wasn't much left to tell—she explained the "agreement" Nathan had made with Christopher, where she would stay with him until they could find an antidote to return her to her normal size.

"And you trusted him to uphold his end of the bargain when you left Danny in his care?" Sybil's tone towards Nathan was almost accusatory.

Nathan shrunk back in his chair a bit. "Well..." He stole a quick glance toward Christopher, then sighed. "Frankly, no. But I guess I didn't feel like I had a lot of options at the time."

"You should have come to me," said Sybil, gentler.

"I...probably should have, yeah. I wasn't thinking." Danny could hear the guilt creeping into Nathan's voice, and she squeezed his finger in reassurance.

"Hey, it ended up okay. Christopher stopped dealing humans, and he..." Danny realized a bit too late that her attempt to make Nathan feel better was turning into defending Christopher.

"He what?" Sybil raised an eyebrow, clearly disbelieving. She looked Christopher square in the eyes. "Is that true?"

"Y-yeah. I, um...decided it was time for a career change."

Sybil stood up and crossed the room slowly, prompting Christopher to stand up as she approached him. He was trying to put on a brave face, but Danny could see right through his bravado. She noticed the way his fingers were digging into his palms.

"What prompted this?" she asked, her voice quiet yet authoritative.

"I...well, I was already having trouble finding humans, so—"

"So it was a matter of convenience," Sybil replied derisively.

"No, no, well, not completely—" Christopher looked toward Danny and Nathan with what seemed to be fear in his eyes. Danny almost felt sorry for him, but frankly, she was interested in his answer to this too.

He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, looking somewhat defeated. "I just started to realize how what I did hurt the people I cared about, and I wanted to make it right. That's all."

Sybil studied his face for a while, as if judging the sincerity of his statement. He flinched as she put a hand gently on his shoulder. "It seems like you have a lot to learn, Penn. But perhaps you're going in the right direction."

She turned towards Nathan and Danny, prompting a sigh of relief from Christopher as she stepped away from him. "There is something I want to show you all. Before we discuss acquiring an antidote." She motioned for them to follow her down the hallway, and they did—Danny being carried by Nathan, and Christopher once again trailing behind.

She led them to a back door that opened into what seemed to be some sort of large, covered greenhouse. There were healthy, vegetable-laden plants growing in the soil, with a narrow path winding through them for the giants to walk through.

"Watch your step, you two."

Nathan gasped. Looking around, Danny noticed that there were humans in the garden, scurrying behind leaves and moving to the sides of the path. They looked back at Danny with wide-eyed curiosity.

"Holy shit," Christopher said, with quiet amazement . "Where in the world did you get all these humans? There's at least ten, twenty, no—way more in here."

Sybil chuckled.

"Wait a minute..." Christopher paused, putting something together in his head. "You're the one who's been taking all the humans from Red Tree, aren't you?"

"You dealers aren't the only ones with 'smugglers.' The Alliance has quite a few feet on the ground."

"How did I not...how come I can't smell them?"

Sybil stopped and turned around, smiling knowingly. "I figured you of all people would be familiar with scent-masking serums, Penn."

"Yeah, but, on this scale? How did you get your hands on that many?"

She laughed. "Easily. We produce them ourselves, using the plants and herbs we grow right here. And they're far more effective than the ones you can acquire."

Christopher seemed lost in thought. "Huh. I...didn't realize that was possible."

Sybil led them to a small patio table toward the back of the greenhouse, where the three giants sat down. Danny sat cross-legged on the table, still taking in the sights of the greenhouse. There were more humans running around than she had thought. They all seemed to be watching them intently, all while keeping a good distance.

Sybil gave them all a soft grin, folding her hands in her lap. "So. How much do you know about where humans come from?"

* * * * * * * * * * 

Part 19 ->

We’ve got a heaping helping of lore coming in next time! The next chapter should be coming next week, so stay tuned. Thanks for reading!

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