#or i play music out loud n hes like That's Annoying. like fuckin CHILL MAYBE

[soleilnomoon]

5k words, fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni, angst & smut wrapped into a cute present; cw - blood, some knife play, there's a gun somewhere, death it's rly not bad but who knows; toji is a bastard and y/n continues to make wild choices; gojo makes an appearance! if u pretend, u might find smth close to fluff. maybe.

previous ⤹

tucked away from the throes of pesky traffic, stands an old, run down building. it’s slated to be demolished, but for some reason the city continues to stall. on the lowest level, in the basement floor, one fushiguro toji sits atop a dingy, white plastic chair, scrolling through various messages in his cell phone. off to the side is an old radio that remains plugged in the blood-stained wall, the heavy bass of the music pumping out of the small speakers is loud enough to drown out the pitiful noises his esteemed guest keeps making—his duress evident in the way his drool dampens the rag that toji stuffed into his mouth earlier.

seemingly in a trance, toji hums along to the music, twirling a sharp knife in his hand, eyes landing on a particular text that he reads not once, nor twice, but four times over. 

he sucks his teeth, and languidly glances over at the man who is barely alive; a man who is also probably pleading for toji to end his miserable life as quickly as he can. it’s hard to tell when a bloody rag muffles his words; and, while toji would never consider himself sympathetic, he’s quite annoyed that the man hasn’t given him much of a fight. even after toji went through the trouble of tying him up, even after he yanked his fingernails off, even after he knocked a few of his teeth out, even after he shot both of his legs—and still, toji graciously let him sit on a chair, because he’s not the savage that people claim he is.

it’s a courtesy he didn’t have to offer, but he does like to make sure his guests are taken care of.

toji rereads the text again, lips pressed together in a straight line, and contemplates the message before he stands up suddenly, his vigor renewed.

“it’s your lucky fuckin’ day, know that?” his voice booms around the room, the dim light barely giving him enough vision to see what he’s doing—but that’s why they call him a professional, isn’t it? a master at navigating through any element that’s thrown at him. toji’s laughter brings a sudden chill to the man, making him whimper even more the closer toji gets to him. “don’t make that face,” toji says gently, using the flat blade of the knife to tap his guest’s cheek. “i don’t care about whatever sob story you’re tryin’ to sell me.”

and it’s true, he doesn’t. 

“i’d love to stay and play, but duty calls,” he leans closer, voice lowering, that stoic, frightening demeanor making its way back into him again, “by the way, your wife did call your phone. i told her you were still in a meeting, hope that was okay.” toji’s grin unnerves the bound man so much that he can’t help but cry out and struggle against the rope bindings, tears in his eyes—a futile last ditch effort to survive. it’d be commendable if there wasn’t a time-constraint. and, unfortunately, toji isn’t in the business of letting his prey get away like that.

it takes one swing for him to slit the man’s throat, the blood just as uninteresting as the man that it’s spilling from. toji shoots him in the middle of his forehead for an added measure—he’s learned the hard way that some people just don’t know how to stay dead.

his phone rings as he finishes cleaning his tools; his annoyance evident when he picks up on the last ring.

“what do you want?” he doesn’t have time for idle chit-chat; he has things to do, places to be, business affairs to take care of. “hell no, i’m not cleaning any of this shit. i did what i was paid to do.” he surveys the room, dark green eyes landing on the splatters of blood, the man’s teeth that toji flung at him postmortem, the various chemicals toji used to keep him barely conscious. “send someone else, i’m leaving.” he hangs up without much fuss and collects the rest of his belongings, not bothering to look back at the mangled corpse he leaves behind.

since he’s used to this line of work, toji keeps himself relatively hidden—people get a little weird when they see him walk around casually with someone else’s blood on him, so he’s learned to acclimate for the sake of keeping a low profile. thankfully he parked in a secluded area; less people he has to worry about. not that it matters, anyway.

you don’t bother checking your phone, because your mind is still stuck on the fact that you had sex with gojo—and managed to prove toji right without him knowing. you’re pissed about everything, and even though gojo tries to bribe you with food in order to cheer you up, you’re barely eating.

a loud bang on the front door startles you, but gojo just grins. “right on time,” he says cheerfully, before adding, “guess that means playtime is over for us, butterfly.” his words confuse you, but you choose not to question it—telling yourself that the less you know, the better it’ll be. gojo opens the door fairly quickly and his chipper demeanor keeps up, even as toji pushes his way past him into the apartment.

you choke on your toast the moment you see his broad shoulders, disheveled black hair, and the look he gives you should make you terrified. but you’re not.

“the fuck do you think you’re doin’ here, huh?” 

his question is the most absurd thing you’ve heard all week. how the hell is he going to question you? you’re an adult just like him, and can do as you please. “you don’t own me, we’ve had this conversation before,” you say aloofly, pushing away from the kitchen island and collecting your things.

“like i told you earlier,” gojo chimes in, clapping a hand on toji’s shoulder, actively annoying the latter with his proximity, “i was keeping an eye on y/n for you.” he’s full of shit and knows it, but toji doesn’t care about any of that. 

“don’t make me repeat myself,” toji says as calmly as he can, while also actively ignoring gojo’s presence.

“take your own advice for once, fushiguro,” you say bitterly, storming past him and gojo, slamming the front door behind you. you’re so mad you can hardly think straight. the nerve of toji showing up here after you spent the night in tears over him, drinking, and fucking the last person you wanted to fuck — although, that’s not exactly true, now, is it? — like everything is your fault and not his. 

you’ll take responsibility for putting too much pressure on toji to commit, you’ll take responsibility for bothering him incessantly for validation, but you refuse to be a doormat to his bullshit any longer. despite all of that, you still make your way down to toji’s car; it’s unlocked and still on — he must’ve known it wouldn’t have taken much convincing on his part for you to get into the car with him, which only pisses you off even more.

why is he able to treat you that way and still make you want him just as much as you did before? he must’ve hypnotized you at some point or another, because none of it makes sense. 

toji casts a sidelong glance gojo’s way, eyeing the sorcerer critically, his irritation rising. gojo’s texts were bait, he knows that and willingly took it. why? he has no idea. but the moment he saw the picture, all he saw was red.

“the first,” he says to the white-haired man, surveying the living room, taking note of the familiar pair of panties that was tossed haphazardly onto the coffee table — by gojo, most likely, he knows you’re not the type — before continuing, “and last fucking time.” it’s all he says and gojo puts his hands up, chuckling lightly, as if he has no idea of what toji’s talking about.

by the time he makes it to his car, he sees you sitting with your feet propped up on the dashboard, crossed at the ankles. the sight annoys him, because he actually likes seeing you in his car, likes how comfortable you are around him, and likes that you don’t seem to have an attachment to gojo in the way that he originally thought. 

not that it makes things any better.

“feet off the dash.” 

his voice stirs a desire within you that you helplessly try to stamp out by reminding yourself of all the bullshit toji’s put you through over the past few months. you have yourself to blame, really, but you don’t want to take accountability just yet. it’s more fun pointing fingers at the man beside you instead.

“don’t tell me what to you,” you say casually, glancing down at your nails as he backs his car out of the driveway and speeds off. “you’re not my boyfriend,” your tone is every bit as bitter as it is childish, “nor are you my dad, so shut up.” it’s not smart of you to mouth off at the same man that laughed as he fucked you stupid, but with toji you always find yourself in this exact situation. every single time.

your words only make him laugh, his chuckles bringing a warmth to your chest and face; you ignore both, opting to look out the window instead. “you’re taking me home, right?” because you have absolutely no intention of going back to his place. not anytime soon, anyway.

his silence is unnerving, so you try again. and again. and again.

“toji, damn it, are you even listening to me?” you’ve long fixed yourself so you’re sitting properly in the passenger’s seat, but toji keeps quiet, his eyes drifting over towards you every now and then, that smug look carved deeply into his eyes, making you want to shout — but you refrain. you know if you lose your cool entirely, it means he’s won.

you refuse to let him win.

“where are we going, if you’re not taking me home.” is this the moment he finally makes good on his promise? is he taking you somewhere hidden, where no one will hear you scream, where they won’t find a body or any sort of evidence? a series of chilling, morbid thoughts pile into your mind one after the other; the way you shift in your seat makes him laugh again. it’s priceless, the way you’re so nervous, the way you think you have him figured out. it’s also terribly cute, and that thought is dangerous enough to make him almost hit the car in front of him. 

thankfully, he swerves out of the way just in time, earning a sharp glare from you, but he ignores that too.

“i hope you’re feeding me,” you say with a sigh, fussing with your hair, hoping the scent of gojo’s soap doesn’t linger for much longer. before you know it, he’s pulled into the parking lot of an impressive hotel somewhere downtown in the city. you know his ass can’t really afford to stay here, so you narrow your eyes at him and then look back at the hotel. “why are we here?” you know better than to voice the rest of your opinion; you’re not cruel, and you don’t have it in you to ever belittle anyone for their financial situation, and while toji is certainly an asshole — a proud one too — you can’t bring yourself to try hurting his feelings like that.

not when there are other ways.

although, can a man like that really get his feelings hurt? you might not ever know at the rate you’re going; his pace is inconsistent and he drives you to do ridiculous and reckless things, like seek out comfort from gojo, for example.

“the last job i took paid well, so,” he nods his head towards the building before grabbing his duffle bag and exiting the car. you scramble after him, not wanting to be left behind, not really having much on you besides your purse and cell phone. 

it’s then that you notice, with the sun shining high above you, the dark stains on his shirt; even though he’s always in dark clothing, it’s noticeable up close. you wrinkle your nose at that and inch away, much to his amusement. pretty pitiful behavior he’s exhibiting, if anyone asked him.

“so you couldn’t, like, shower before coming to kidnap me?” you don’t mean anything by it; you take notice of bit of blood on the side of his neck, and you swallow hard, wondering whose it is — his or someone else’s.

“s’not mine,” he says, as if reading your mind, “don’t worry about me so much.” if you weren’t in public, you’d slap him for his impudence.

it seems toji’s frequented this hotel before, because they don’t bat an eyelash at his appearance, they simply hand him a key and he strides off to the elevator. you struggle to keep up with him, say as much, which only makes him laugh again — he’s always fucking laughing — annoying you endlessly.

once inside the room, you’re immediately floored. the spacious suite — excuse you, the luxuriously spacious suite, that is — is pristine, heavenly, and possibly a dream. you look at him questioningly, knowing he didn’t get this for your sake, but for his. not that you blame him; if you had the money, you’d randomly splurge like this too.

“are you finally going to talk to me properly, or what?” you place a hand on your hip, his eyes take you in, before he lifts a shoulder up in a lazy attempt at a shrug.

“i need a shower.” it’s all he says as he starts stripping in front of you, tossing his clothes behind him, padding barefoot to the bathroom. you watch a little too hard, you realize, so you busy yourself with investigating the room. you know this is probably a one or two night deal for him, but you suppose you can enjoy it while you’re here; there’s no need to continue picking petty fights with him, when you’re in a place like this, is there?

toji, meanwhile, allows the water to pelt his skin, the heat scalding but refreshing. he scrubs off the grime of the day, wanting to rid himself of the bullshit he endured earlier; somehow his rage never subsides. if anything, it just keeps building. the sight of you sitting so comfortably with gojo made him think irrational, impossible things. he’s not a fool, he knows what happened, more or less; gojo’s texts and smug face only confirmed it. he doesn’t really blame you, but he feels like it.

one thing about gambling, is the stakes are always addicting, and right now, the stakes are incredibly high. it’s the thrill of the risk that has him finally step out of the shower, the steam thick enough to choke someone; he dries himself off with a large, fluffy towel, before wrapping it around his waist, stepping out of the bathroom and feeling like a brand new person.

you’ve ordered room service without his permission and drink champagne straight from the bottle, ignoring his pointed looks, sitting comfortably on the plush sofa as if you have every right to be there.

your nonchalance pisses him off somehow, so he grabs the duffle bag and places his gun and a knife — the type one goes camping with — onto the small circular table, unceremoniously dropping his bag onto the floor right after.

you watch, stupidly, blinking slowly as you try to understand. “what’s that for?” you look up at him, eyes widened, fear trickling through you, making your throat constrict in a way that makes it nearly impossible to speak. 

toji motions at the weapons on the table, “pick one.”

again, you find yourself blinking, your hands clutching the champagne bottle tightly. this has to be a joke, right? a sick, sick joke, where toji teases you mercilessly and eventually fucks you. you’re sure it has to be. but when he doesn’t say anything, when his eyes turn hard as he tilts his head to watch the way you’re refusing to do as he says.

“why?” you squeak, not wanting to play whatever game he’s started, “what are you going to do to me?” you’ve never considered yourself the valiant type, so this is an instance where your body tells you to run, run, run. somehow you remain seated; somehow a part of you demands to know his reasoning; somehow you regain a bit of control over yourself.

the longer you take, the more pissed he gets, so he says nothing, his green eyes lingering on you, reminding you of a feral animal that’s waiting for its prey to make the first move.

you sit up a little straighter, voice raising as you start to shout. “toji!” 

he tells himself it’ll be worth it in the end, if you could only fucking listen. “...i said choose.” his voice, like his presence, is commanding — low, but dangerous, a dark edge lacing his words without even trying. 

still, you won’t let him have his way that easily. you’re your own person, you should be allowed to ask questions and be treated as such. “not until you tell me what you’ll do to me—”

toji grabs the gun and slams it on the table, the sound loud enough to make you jump — as if the gun was angry too — the bottle of champagne still caught between your trembling hands, miraculously. 

“i won’t fucking say it again, y/n.” 

that makes you nervously blurt out, “the k-knife.”

for some reason, he’s disappointed — at what, he’s not entirely sure, but he knows disappointment — has known it all his life, and promptly decides that that’s what this empty feeling is.

“good choice.”

your curiosity be damned, you should’ve thought this through. toji carries you over to the bedroom, much to your feigned displeasure; he also brings both weapons and when you try asking him about it, he simply tosses you onto the large bed and watches as you bounce around. he places the gun on the table off to the side, his gaze halting your movements completely. something compels you to take your clothes off; maybe it’s from the way this whole thing started off, or maybe it’s from the way he’s looking at you. whatever it is, your clothes are off. 

because you’re so compliant, he flashes you a sly grin, his strides bring him to you swiftly; he twirls the knife around his fingers before spreading your legs apart. your heart beats loud enough that you’re sure he can hear it too. a normal person would simply leave, would never look his way again, but he told you last time, didn’t he? you’re not a saint; not even close. with a soft sigh, you watch him intently as he runs the flat side of the blade against your inner thigh. the metal is cool against your skin, making you inhale sharply; you bite down on your lip hard enough to make you wince, your pussy is in a world of its own right now.

while you know there’s something so incredibly fucked up about all of this, you also know that you like the sensual way he’s dragging the blade against your skin, and while he doesn’t mean to, he accidentally cuts you. before you open your mouth to tell him off, he’s already bent forward and licks the blood off. it’s only a tiny bit, but the contact forces a shudder to pass through you, your nipples hardening without remorse.

it’s absolutely absurd that you’re into this, but you can’t help it. you know, you know — it is what it is.

he spins the knife so that he can place the handle in your hand. you clutch it instinctively, which makes the corners of his lips curl upward. “fuck yourself with it.” he says suddenly, his towel finally slipping from his body and landing somewhere near your shirt. “i know you want to.” if you had just a bit more sense, you’d have resisted falling into his trap; but you don’t, you’re more foolish than you realize.

your legs shake, not out of fear, but anticipation and with your feet planted on top of the bed, you bring the tip of the round handle to your slit, breath still as you drag it in between your folds, arousal staining it immediately. you should be ashamed, you should dislike the way he’s watching you, and you should hate the way you want him so badly — but you don’t. it’s hopeless, so you stop fighting; the world you’ve found yourself in is illogical and irresistible, you hope you can survive long enough.

toji didn’t think you’d let him take it this far; if he were a decent man he’d be a bit more forgiving. but he’s not; he won’t pretend to be otherwise. but it would really suck if you hurt yourself in the process, so he yanks the knife out of your hand and ends up cutting himself. he’s so desensitized to pain, he doesn’t feel or notice it. you’re horrified at his callous behavior, and watch as the knife tumbles onto the floor. without considering the consequences, you hop off of the bed and sprint to grab the gun. you’ve never shot one before, but you’re sure you can manage.

not that you want to hurt him, but he’s being ridiculous now, and you’re still annoyed at him about a lot of things. the toxicity between you two should be enough to turn you off, but it doesn’t; which is why you hesitate. toji pushes you onto the bed again, eyes wild as you point the gun at his chest. “now that’s what i’m talkin’ about.” he moves closer, the metal touching his skin, making you worried that you’ll actually do damage if you’re not careful.

you just wanted him to see that he’s not the only one that’s capable of inducing fear; you wanted him on edge, just like you, but it backfires. it always does. 

“don’t tell me, you’re not gonna follow through?” he actually looks disappointed, his thick, dark brows knitted closely together as he looks down at you. he rubs the tip of his hardened cock against your pussy, dragging it slowly along the slit before dipping it in between your folds. you still can’t find the words you want to say; your mouth parts, but all that comes out is a soft whimper that you’re too invested to feel any shame over. 

toji presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, tsking audibly at your audacity; he slips the thick head of his cock inside of your tight hole, bringing out a shameless moan from deep inside of you, your hands shaking, your desire so tangible that it’s making you dizzy. still, toji insists on being the absolute worst, and keeps running his stupid mouth. “if you wanna kill someone, then you have to mean it.” he cages his thick arms around you, crowding the small bit of space between you. “i can give you some pointers, if you like.” 

you’re so aroused and irritated that you don’t think as you speak. “go to hell.” and while you’d meant to say it with venom, you don’t — because he chooses that exact moment to bury the rest of his cock into your pussy, hips pressed firmly against yours. you wrap your legs around him to hold him still, needing a moment to adjust because he forgets how monstrous he is all the fucking time. again, he awards you that kindness, since he knows you’ll be begging him soon enough.

if he hadn’t seen it happen so many times, he wouldn’t be half as bold. toji, amused by your insistence on defying him again and again, leans closer, hips knocking roughly against yours. “been there, baby girl,” he says darkly, tongue darting out and licking his lips at the sight of your pussy soaked around him, “didn’t like it, so i came back to life.” he’s so full of shit, and you can’t stand him, but you forget all of that. all you can focus on is the rough way he’s fucking you, like he’s harshly reminding you of his previous assertion — that he’d ruin you for anyone else after him.

“took the bullets out, earlier,” he admits cheekily, a fierce look flashing behind your eyes as you chuck the gun off to the side.

“fuck you, i literally cannot stand y—”

he snaps his hips against yours, angling them so he can fuck you deeply. “shut up and stop lying.” he says this knowing damn well how hypocritical he’s being; but that’s not the point, is it? he doesn’t think so, anyway. 

you wish you could continue, but you can’t; your pussy covets the thickness of his cock more than you care to admit. if he ever knew, he’d never live it down. but, the thing is, he already knows — it’s why he does what he does, why he knows he has a slight edge over you for the time being. because if you found out how deeply embedded you are within him, he’d have to go into witness protection. it’s that serious.

grabbing onto your thighs, toji leans forward, dropping playful, sloppy kisses onto your lips, which only makes you clench around him. is it affection or arousal? you don’t actually know, but you do know that toji never has to do much to get you like this. it’s a fucking problem. you moan his name loudly, against your better judgment, and he kisses you greedily, swallowing the rest of your moans as his cock slams into you harder. 

if you ever have a bad day, you’ll just recall this moment; you can hardly breathe, the heat from his body melted all of your resolve, and it’s when his cock hits that spot that you scream, hips bucking up against his frantically, your breath coming out in soft pants as he continues to fuck you senseless. your orgasm has you mumbling nonsense, earning a mocking laugh from him. your arousal drips down your thighs and onto his skin. he likes that your pussy is a small form of paradise for him; your plush, tight walls squeezing around him, in a way that made him absolutely feral. he nips your neck, right below your ear, drags his tongue down the length of it, your mind spinning as your pussy aches in a way that has you calling out his name until your throat is hoarse.

an odd fury pulses through him and he bites your shoulder, earning a pinch from you on his side. “toji, fuck that hurt.” not terribly, but it was shocking, and if his cock wasn’t burrowing into you like that and making you delirious, you’d be more firm — but right now, you’re just trying to chase that high for as long as you can. as an apology — or what he considers an apology — toji pulls you onto his lap, your breasts pressed against his chest, skin rubbing together with each brutal thrust of his hips. you press needy kisses along his jaw, clenching your pussy around him reflexively, his large hands holding onto you as he rolls his hips. when you fall apart, when you cry out — hating how much you like the lewd squelching from your salacious cunt — an orgasm tears through him at the same time. 

the way he moans your name makes you want to stay like this forever; if you could bottle it up, you’d carry it around with you everywhere. you know it’s not love, but the infatuation is steadily taking over your life. you might need to reconsider a few things one of these days. but as his sloppy thrusting slows down, as his cum spills out of you, you can only think about how you’re always taken to new heights every time he fucks you. what is it about him that keeps you coming back? outside of the attraction, outside of his sculpted body, are you really depraved enough to want whatever semblance of affection he can give you?

the answer eludes you, heart beating pitifully, the sounds reverberating in your chest loud enough to remind you that you’re foolish as hell. toji knows that you’re doing all of this song and dance because he won’t validate the relationship officially. if he wasn’t already too enamored with you right now, he’d roll his eyes at that.

but, did he really want the likes of gojo — or worse nanami, geto — or anyone else having access to you the way he does? the answer hit him so clearly in the face that he cursed under his breath, making you look at him strangely. he pulls out of you so he can think straight; toji’s 94% sure that your pussy hypnotizes him each and every time. you’re inclined to entertain that idea if it means he’ll stop stomping over your feelings.

“if i say yes,” he says carefully, rolling onto his side, hoping the distance will keep him clear-headed, “will you shut up about all of that?” he didn’t need to explain because you know exactly what he’s talking about.

“no guarantees,” you say lightly, crawling over and tossing your curvy leg around his hip. he stares sharply, but you roll your eyes at his theatrics. “i’m kidding, god.” your lips brush against his gently and you leave behind a tender kiss. normally, he’d find a reason to get out of bed, to ghost you for weeks, but he can’t find that reason now. he slips his tongue into your mouth, kissing you slowly, reminding you just how dangerous he is. you already forgot why you were annoyed to begin with, and he’s mostly forgiven your transgressions. you know you should be more than elated, but a voice in the back of your mind spews a nasty, contrary opinion on the matter. you snuff it out, ignore the words completely, and smile instead. 

you refuse to fuck anything up with your over-thinking, you’d finally achieved your goal and don’t want to give up your prize anytime soon.

previous ⤹

#idk what to say; it's above me now #jjk imagine #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #fushiguro toji #fushiguro toji x y/n #fushiguro toji x reader #toji smut #toji x y/n #toji x reader #‘i can change him’ 🥴 #fic request #fushiguro toji smut #jjk angst #toji angst #he’s the worst and i love him #💋🍯— honeycomb and 808s —🍯💔

[ubernoxa]

The Token: A Guns N’ Roses Fanfiction

Chapter 10: A Little Black Book

Story Summary: Story inspired by the movie She’s the Man. A female Duff is tired of dealing with the bullshit of trying to make it on the strip as a female bassist. Did Michelle think it through as she chopped her hair? Nope. All she knew was that she wanted to make it on the strip. If she had to mascarade as a guy, so it shall be.

Chapter Summary: After Duff accidentally reviews that she is a girl she tried to not get kicks out of the band. The little black book part is inspired by @niksixx

MASTERLIST

Taglist: @viralwolf02 @littlemisscare-all @smokeandmirrorz @aratbaby @slashscowboyboots @achiweyow @queen-crue

I had never knew a room filled with music could be so silent. The notes that were once filling the small room had gone silent. No, the record Slash had chosen earlier hadn’t stopped play. Instead my brain had gotten rid of the sound. I focused on my breathing, frozen in place while my mind raced a thousand miles per a second.

“Slash...I..” I stood up and started to walk over towards him as I spoke. Maybe he would be okay with this? Maybe this wouldn’t destroy my position in the band.

Before I could continue, Slash shot up and walked past me heading towards the stairs, practically running me down in the process. As he bumped into me, I lost balance and fell back onto the couch.

Fuck. There was no way this wouldn’t have repercussions.

I felt like a mute as I tried to say something to

Slash. I didn’t know if it was my brain or my lips, but one of them was failing me.

“Aren’t you going to fuckin say something?” I screamed across the room. Slash froze when he was halfway up the stairs.

“Leave me the fuck alone.....just...what the fuck....Michelle.” He didn’t yell. I expected him to scream at me. He had every right to be mad or angry or furious. I would be the first to say that what I was doing was by no means normal. What I was doing was fucking insane.

I tried to keep my breathing even and hid my face in my hands. It was moments like this where I wished that I still had my long hair. It was a curtain for me to hide behind, but here I was still on a couch burying my head in my hands trying to figure out what the actual fuck I could do to save this situation.

I practically jumped out of my skin when I felt something cold touch my shoulder. I looked up to see Izzy silently offering me a glass of cold water. I began to sip the water, hoping that maybe it would sober me up.

“What the fuck do I do Izzy?” I hadn’t meant for it to sound desperate, but it had.

“Fuck if I know Shelly. Just go talk to him. He is probably really confused,” Izzy shrugged joining me of the ratty couch.

“Well he seemed pissed off”

“He has every right to be!”

“But Izzy, you weren’t mad. You didn’t seem to care,” I quickly shot back.

“Well first off, I was rather annoyed that you lied to me.”

“Really?” I turned towards him. I wanted to slap myself at my own stupidity. Of course he was mad at me. I LIED TO HIM.

“Well yeah,” he laughed back.

“Why were you so calm about it? You never yelled at me,” I sent him a confused look as I spoke.

“I don’t care if you are a chick or a guy. I know some do, but I don’t give a damn. Also, it was actually kinda fun to mess with you,” he admitted before finishing off his beer.

“Does Slash care?”

“No, I don’t see why he would honestly.”

“Then why is he mad? Why did he storm off?” I shot back.

“Shelly, you ripped off your shirt and said I am a girl!’ Not very subtle of you. Finding out your bandmate is a chick is a lot to proceeds...trust me,” I rolled my eyes at his reply.

I eyed the staircase for a couple of second before deciding to head upstairs to talk to him.

When I stood up I felt Izzy grab my wrist and pull me back.

“What the fuck Izzy, I gotta go talk to him!” I shot back.

“Just let him simmer, you’ve had a long week,” I ignored Izzy’s comment as I headed up the stairs. I could have sworn he said something as he watched me walk up the stairs, but I ignored it.

I remained frozen in front of the only closed door. I took a deep breath before knocking.

After a couple of moments of silence I tried knocking again, but once again silence filled the air. Did he escape? Maybe he crawled out a window or something.

I slowly opened the door, and was met by a loud groan.

“Izzy, this isn’t like some of the bull shit we deal with Axl. You don’t need to fix it. Just leave me the fuck alone...” his voice trailed off as our eyes met while I walked into the small room.

His room was dark. The only reason I could see him was a dim light outlining his features coming from a streetlight.

“Well I’m not Izzy,” I stood awkwardly in the doorway leaning against the doorframe.

“Then who the fuck are you?” I remained frozen at his question.

When he leaned forward, the light finally showed his face; however, I couldn’t look at him in the eyes. Instead I was distracted. I was distracted by the snake that was casually wrapped around his arm. I felt petrified as I looked the creature in the eyes. By the way it kept me frozen in place, it was like the snake was plucked from Medusa’s head.

I heard him chuckled and I immediately looked him in the eyes, pulling my attention from the snake.

“You ever seen a snake before?”

“Yeah, I saw a garden snake once....this one is...a little bigger,” this earned some laughter from slash.

“Yeah...she is a little bigger,” I could tell that he was finding my uneasiness hilarious as he continued to chuckle at my reaction.

I sat on the ground, not inching towards the snake as I watched it flick its tongue in the air.

“Is...is that...is that some sort of hissing?” I focused on my breathing as I spoke, making sure to keep a calm relaxed diminutive. You’re supposed to remain calm around bears, so maybe..maybe it would work the same for snakes. At the end of the day, it couldn’t make things worse.

“No, quite the contrary. She is just tasting the air,” Slash casually responded as he lifted his arm up to get a better look at the snake.

“Are you sure....” I spoke not much louder than a whisper. I made sure to keep my voice soft, not wanting to provoke the creature.

His laughter filled the room once again.

“Yes I’m sure. She isn’t clinging onto me any tighter. She’s just chilling. Wanna come closer?” I froze again at his offer.

Hell no.

Hell the fuck no.

There was no way in hell that I was getting any closer to the hissing beast than I have to.

It wasn’t until he spoke again that I began to contemplate taking a few steps closer.

“Come on, no need to worry. I think she likes you,” I nodded as he spoke and slowly scootered forward, my eyes never leaving the snake.

“Just remain calm as you are, and you should be fine,” I nodded at Slash’s words. Just remain calm, and everything will be fine, I repeated to myself over and over again. Im not going to die today.

Within no time I felt like I was face to face with the beast. How many snakes did he have? I hoped just one. I was in no position or mood to meet a second snake tonight. I froze again when I made eye contact with the snake. I couldn’t tell what it was, but I felt a calming sense flow through my body as I stared down the creature.

I looked up to see Slash smiling down at me as he stroked the beast.

“Is it tightening around your hand?” I whispered.

“No...she is still calm,” I relaxed as Slash replied. At least someone in this rundown place didn’t hate me.

My eyes stayed focused on the beast as he explored Slash’s hand. Slithering around every which way it pleased, clearly causing no harm to Slash. I looked up to see a wide grin grow across his face.

“What?” I inquired as I felt his gaze on me.

“Nah it’s nothing,” he immediately shrugged it off, but I wasn’t taking such a lame excuse as an answer.

“Hmmm...I beg to differ,” I teased back.

“No..well...it’s just that the last person to meet my little girl here was Axl..and he...,” I interrupted him before he could continue.

“Let me guess, your little girl here didn’t like him.”

“You are spot on,” he smiled back, once again looking at his little girl...as he called it.

“Well she isn’t the first and probably won’t be the last girl to hate him,” I teased back, my own laughter erupting and filling the room.

“Shh, not too loud. She likes it quiet,” Slash said, his smile never leaning his face as he tried to hide his laughter.

I nodded and looked back at the snake. A comfortable silence filled the room as the two of us watched his snake relax on his hand. It was rather clear that since the snake appeared to like me, slash hadn’t cussed me out or bitten my head off yet.

“Why?” Slash broke the silence as he spoke.

“Why what?” I quickly asked back without thinking. He sent me an ‘area you fucking kidding me’ look before rephrasing his question.

“Why are you pretending to be a guy?”

“I was tired of being a girl,” I shrugged back leaning into what I could only assume to be a nightstand.

I could tell by the look on Slash’s face that he was no please with my answer.

“Why?” I rolled my eyes as he acted like my little three year old cousin repeatedly asking questions.

I let out a sigh as I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt.

“I was tired of all the bull shit that comes with being a chick on the strip! Do you know how hard it is for a girl to make it on the strip? Whenever I show up to a gig, I’m immediately treated as either A) a potential sex symbol or B) someone who knows absolutely nothing about playing music. For Christ’s sake, if I had a dollar for every time I had someone mansplain to me on how to play, I wouldn’t ever go hungry. I just...it’s exhausting....and I just wanted a change,” I sighed before I took a sip of the vodka that I was holding.

“How much of it is true,” I could feel my eyebrows scrunch as Slash spoke.

“How much of what is true?” I asked back, trying to get my mind wrapped around what he was getting at.

“The rumors I have heard about you and Pixie?” I laughed at his question. There were hundreds of rumors of what happened between me and my old band.

“Slash, man you’re going to have to be more specific,” I replied before offering him the bottle which he quickly took.

“Are you really that good at sucking cock that it got Pixie priority gigs,” he seemed hesitant as he spoke. Of course his first question was going to be sex related. I don’t know why I was surprised.

I let a laugh escape me as I shook my head, trying to find the right way to reply to Slash.

“I have never sucked cock or had sex to get a gig. It’s against my code,” I causally responded back as he handed the bottle back to me.

“Ohh,” he seemed a tad disappointed as he spoke.

“Why are you disappointed by that?” I shot back forgetting that there was a snake in the room.

“Well....if things ever went south with the band...you could...well you know...take one for the team,” he teased back. I couldn’t help but laugh at his response.

“It’s good to know we have a well thought out backup plan,” I teased before taking another sip of vodka.

Before we could continue, I heard a knock at the door, causing an abrupt end to our conversation.

“Slash did you kill our bassist?” I turned to see Izzy poking his head through the busted door.

“Nah, still breathing,” I felt a smile flash across my face as Izzy walked into the room.

“At least for now,” Slash added causing a soft giggle to escape my lips.

“Was I interrupting something,” I watched as Izzy appeared tense as he sat down next to me.

“Not really, Duff...uhh...Michelle..was just debunking some rumors I’ve heard about him...her,” I smiled as he tried to correct himself and use the correct pronouns. It was sweet of him, at least he was trying. To be honest, I truly didn’t care which pronouns his used, but I still appreciated his attempt.

“Well, I got a question then,” Izzy paused before he faced.

“Are you really that good at sucking cock to get gigs,” there was no force on Earth that would have been able to help me contain my laughter. If I was sober I would have been annoyed with their childish questions, but I was far from sober. I wondered if this question was on every guy’s mind. I wondered if maybe he was jealous.

“What?” Izzy immediately asked as laughter erupted into the room.

Once my laughter calmed down I turned towards Izzy, “I never sucked cock for gigs, but I am pretty good.”

“Says who?” I watched as a smirk grew on Izzy’s face.

“Says my little black book,” I teased back. I felt my heart quicken as I felt Izzy’s eyes on me.

“Ohh please tell me you don’t actually keep a book,” Slash stole my attention as he spoke.

“Fuck no, it’s just an expression,” I replied. I froze as I looked at the pair as they remained motionless in front of me.

“No...you guys don’t....that’s not a thing right?” I was baffled as they remained silent in front of me.

“Seriously? I expected this out of Nikki Sixx, but not you guys....” before I could continue, Slash interrupted me.

“Don’t worry, we don’t,” Slash motioned towards him and Izzy as the pair laughed.

“Wow, Axl fucking Rose has a little black book? I knew he had an ego..but Holy Shit..I didn’t think it was that big,” I laughed at the thought of Axl writing down the names of girls and where/how to find them to have sex.

“I wouldn’t be laughing too hard..you were almost in that book,” Slash added, causing me to freeze in place.

“No...seriously ?!?” I shot back.

“Can you blame him?” I turned my attention back towards Izzy. I watched him take another sip of his beer before eyeing me over.

Just like the snake that was wrapped around Slash’s arm, I wanted nothing more than to wrap my mouth around Izzy’s cock.

#gnr fanfiction #gnr imagine #gnr fanfic #guns and roses fan fiction #guns and roses fanfic #guns and roses fanfiction #guns #guns and roses imagine #guns n’ roses fanfic #guns n’ roses imagine #guns n’ roses fanfiction #guns n roses fanfiction #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses fanfic #slash imagine #slash fanfic #slash fanfiction #izzy stradlin fanfic #izzy stradlin imagine #izzy stradlin fanfiction #duff mckagan imagine #duff mckagan fanfic #duff mckagan fanfiction

[naturallytom]

Holiday Cheer (Tom Holland x reader)

a/n: spot the christmas movie references (send me an ask if/when you find them😉)!! also i really really love this!! 

warnings: angst, tom’s a dick, mentions of sex, mentions of death, then a heck ton of fluff!! 

prompt: i hate the holidays more than anything in the world and you drive me nuts because you love the holidays more than anything in the world and this is why we aren’t friends (enemies to friends to lovers hello) + “You didn’t think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?” + “It looks like the North Pole threw up.” + frat!boy tom/college au

please please leave feedback & reblog!!

gif not mine!

It was that time of year again. Christmas was approaching which meant lots of joy, love, and laughter for many people, including you. It was your favorite time of the year- the snow falling and littering the ground creating the perfect scenery for shopping for friends and family. 

Your all time favorite thing to do was decorating your apartment and baking Christmas treats. Whether you did it alone or with friends, nothing beat hanging up stockings or putting up the tree and putting the ornaments and lights up. 

Spending the Christmas season in Boston meant lots of public tree lightings to go to as well, all of them filled with cheer, music, and people who were also in the Christmas spirit. 

It also meant finals. That brought on stress, panic, and many many deadlines to meet. Many students didn’t find a lot to be happy about during finals weeks, but not you. You found so much to be happy for, even during the most stressful weeks in college. Finals meant lots of stress, yes, but it also meant the end of the semester and that a break was coming your way soon. Sure, there were many deadlines to meet, but the relief that flooded through you when you were able to cross something else off your list and you felt the weight on your shoulders getting lighter and lighter was one of the best feelings. Break coming up meant more time to spend time with family and friends without worrying about what work you have to do and baking as many Christmas cookies as you wanted, decorating them with red and green frosting topped with sprinkles or candy cane bits. 

Tom Holland, however, was the opposite of you. He was an exchange student from London. He was a pessimistic frat boy who found no joy in anything besides hooking up with girls, using them for sex and then discarding them the next morning. Tom hated Christmas and the Christmas season. No one really knew why, he didn’t tell anyone. It could be that his shoes were too tight. It could be his head wasn’t screwed on just right. But you thought the most likely reason was that his heart was two sizes too small. 

Tom didn’t have a lot of close friends. Your friends hung around the frat he belonged to and was “friends” with one of your good friends, Liam so you saw quite a lot of Tom Holland. 

The two of you did not get along. Tom would roll his eyes whenever he saw you around while you would simply try to ignore it and be your usual optimistic self, which made Tom (metaphorically) sick. He couldn’t understand how one person could be so bubbly and happy all the damn time. And you, on the other hand, couldn’t understand how one person could be so pessimistic and full of anger all the damn time. You were pretty sure he hated you. You would say you hated him too but ‘hate’ is a very strong word, so you kept it to a heavy disliking. 

Tom shocked you, he really did. You went to the frat parties with your friends and they were fun, but you couldn’t understand how someone could gain all their happiness from doing this every weekend. Didn’t it get boring? All the drinking and smoking and sex? 

You were busy putting up your final Christmas decorations when you heard a knock at your door. When you answered the door you weren’t surprised to see Liam there with none other than Tom Holland. 

“It looks like the North Pole threw up.” Tom muttered, entering your apartment, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Thanks, Tom!” You replied through your gritted teeth as you let them in. 

“Wasn’t a fucking compliment.” He mumbled under his breath. 

“Looks nice, y/n! Smells nice too.” Liam complimented, genuinely making you smile. 

“Thanks, Liam. ‘S the fresh balsam candle right over there.” You pointed to the forest green candle on your coffee table, your little tree standing proudly in the corner, the lights shining brightly. 

“Jesus christ is all of this necessary?” Tom asked, his brown eyes scanning the decorations. 

“They’re just decorations, Tom. Don’t see what the big deal is.” You shrugged. 

“Little advice, tone it down. This isn’t good for throwing parties.” He said smugly, making you roll your eyes. 

“Some of us have better things to do that to mindlessly party every weekend, Holland.” You told him, anger flooding through your veins. 

“Just a suggestion, princess.” He winked, Liam rolling his eyes. 

“Well I think they look really nice.” Liam told you. 

“Thanks again, Liam. At least someone thinks so.” You replied. “So what brings you over here?” 

“I knew you’d be putting up the decorations. We wanted to see if you wanted any help.” Liam smiled, making you smile. 

“Thanks, Li. I’m alright, though. You guys are welcome to stay.” You offered, Tom rolling his eyes. 

“Dunno if I could ever deal with this much decorations.” He nearly whispered, making you roll your eyes once again. 

“No one’s begging you to stay, Holland.” 

“Oh so now we’re on a last name basis, are we y/l/n?” 

“Only for you since you don’t know how to keep your fucking mouth shut!” 

“Feisty. Didn’t think you had it in you to say a worse word than ‘heck’ or ‘gosh darn.’” He smirked. 

“Alright alright,” Liam interfered, stepping between you and Tom. “Thank you for the offer, y/n, but I think we’ll have to get going.” 

“‘S fine, Li. See you around, yeah?” You smiled softly, Liam nodding in return. 

“Yeah for sure. I’ll stop by later.” Liam smiled, ushering Tom out the front door. 

-

“What was that about?” Liam asked Tom, who simply shrugged. 

“She’s annoying.” He said casually. 

“She’s my friend.” Liam said. 

“So?” 

“Whatever, man. You don’t have to be such a dick.” 

-

You were sitting at your table later that night, scented candles set up around you with piano Christmas tracks playing softly as you went through your notes and organized them in preparation for the final next week. 

You were interrupted by a knock on the door, confusion taking over your features as you went to answer the door. 

“Tom?” You asked, shocked to see the British brunette leaning against your doorway. “You live on this floor?”

“Right next door, princess.” He smirked, a curl falling onto his forehead. “Anyway your music is annoying as fuck. Turn it down for me?” 

“Well not when you ask like that.” You replied, crossing your arms. “Gotta ask nicely. And it’s not even that loud!” 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Tom groaned. “You and your ‘gotta ask nicely shit’ can’t you just turn down your annoying music? ‘M trying to study for finals.”

“You? Studying for finals? Didn’t know that was a thing that occurred. Anyway, finals aren’t for a couple weeks.” You feigned shock while Tom rolled his eyes. 

“Will you please turn your music down?” He sighed, making you smile softly. 

“I’ll consider it.” 

-

It was Friday night. All you wanted was to watch a nice Christmas movie with a cup of hot chocolate but Tom had other plans. The sound of your movie was being drowned out by the moans and grunts of Tom and whatever girl he brought home as well as the bed creaking and hitting the wall. 

You groaned and rolled your eyes, waiting for the sounds to die down before you went over there. It took a lot to piss you off and somehow Tom knew how to do just that. 

Knocking on his door harshly, you were taken back when you were greeted by a shirtless Tom answering the door. 

“Well hi there princess. Gotta be honest ‘m surprised to see you out and about this late.” He greeted sarcastically. 

“You know the funniest thing happened. I was trying to watch Home Alone and I couldn’t hear anything because all I could hear was some girl getting fucked obnoxiously into next week and the bed slamming against the wall.” You said, watching the smug look on his face take over. “I think that’s much more annoying than some piano tracks.” 

“Well sorry princess,” Tom started. “Girls are always so loud when they’re in bed with me. I’m that good. Want me to prove it to you?” 

“First of all, that’s disgusting.” You gagged, Tom rolling his eyes at your theatrics. “Second of all, just keep it down. Some of us are trying to sleep and actually study for finals.” 

Tom shrugged. “Just gotta drown out that Christmas shit, princess.” 

“Why do you hate Christmas so much anyway?” You asked, genuinely interested in his response, seeing his demeanor shift. 

“None of your fucking business.” 

-

Finals were next week. You were having a small holiday party with a couple friends to chill before you all had to face final exams and papers and you invited Tom for the sake of being nice. 

Tom wasn't sure why he showed up. Maybe it was because deep down he was lonely and knew meaningless sex wouldn’t fill the void that needed to be filled. Maybe it was because he knew he would be drinking his pain away by himself on Christmas like he did every year and wanted some company this time.  

Tom told you he showed up for the free booze. You sighed, letting Tom in. As much as you thought the free booze reasoning was bullshit, you couldn’t find it in you to turn him away

Tom didn’t know anyone at the party. You were talking with all the guests gathered in the kitchen and offering drinks and light snacks to them. Tom took the opportunity to grab a beer and head to the living room to be by himself.

He sat on the couch, sipping on his beer while Christmas songs played throughout the apartment. Taking out his phone, he was greeted with a lack of notifications, rather he was staring at a picture of Tessa.

“Cute dog.” You commented, taking a seat next to him.

Tom considered replying with something sarcastic, but decided against doing so.

“Thanks.” He mumbled, taking another sip.

“So why’d you show up?” You asked, earning a shrug from Tom.

“Free booze.”

“Bullshit.”

“What?” He glanced at you, his brown eyes widened.

“You have plenty of booze at your apartment. You don’t need me to supply you.” You pointed out. 

“How do you know what I have my apartment, princess?” He smirked.

“You really want me to believe you don’t have booze at your place?” 

“Fair.” Tom smiled smugly. “I don’t know why I showed up. Why’d you invite me?”

“Don’t know.” You shrugged. “Guess I didn’t want you to feel left out.”

“That’s really nice.” Tom told you honestly. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” You smiled. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

“Why do you hate Christmas?” You asked, taking Tom by surprise.

“Why do you care?” He grumbled, playing with his beer bottle.

“Well Christmas brings me so much joy-” 

“-Everything brings you joy.” 

“So anyway Christmas brings me so much joy, it just makes me sad to know that it makes you sad. Or angry.” You told him gently. “You don’t have to answer if you really don’t want to.” 

“I haven’t really, uh, talked about this.” Tom muttered, placing his beer bottle on the table and dropping his head to his hands. 

“That’s okay, Tom. You don’t have to tell me.” You soothed, hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder. 

Tom didn’t know what it was but something about you made him feel like he could open up.  You made him feel safe. 

“A few years ago, right before I came here, my girlfriend at the time was killed in a car accident right around Christmas.” He spoke softly, his voice cracking. “We had just gotten into a fight and she was leaving my house. Someone ran a red light and crashed into her. Paramedics say she was killed instantly.”

“Oh Tom I’m so sorry.” You frowned, rubbing his shoulder softly. “I can’t even imagine what that must’ve been like.” 

“I kinda uh, spiraled and used alcohol to solve my problems, lashed out against my family.” He nearly whispered. “Haven’t been back since.” 

“Do you talk to them?” You asked softly.

“Only my brothers.” He responded. “They usually call me on Christmas for virtual company.” 

“You’re alone on Christmas?” You gasped as he nodded. “Will..will you be alone this year?”

“Probably.” He replied, shrugging. “‘S fine, I’ll be fine.” 

“Tom that’s so sad, though! Don’t you have any friend’s houses you could to?” 

“All my close friends are back home in London.” He shrugged. “Seriously, y/n, I’m fine.”

“I think you could use a friend.” You smiled, Tom rolling his eyes, though he smiled. 

“Why would you wanna be my friend? I’ve been a dick to you.” He chuckled, though he was serious. 

“That’s true.” You smiled. “But to be fair, I’ve been trying to be a friend to you, now I’m just declaring it official.”

“You were trying to be a friend to me?” Tom asked, feeling guilt wash over him. 

“Yeah.” You nodded, frowning slightly. “Jus’ thought you hated me.” 

“I’m really sorry, y/n. I don’t hate you.” Tom said softly. 

“You don’t?” 

Tom shook his head. “Christmas time just makes me so sad and angry. I keep up the act year round ‘cause it’s easy.” 

“Protecting your heart?” You asked, Tom nodding. “Well, think of it this way. You could have a pair of rollerblades that are really nice that you’re afraid to wreck. So you keep them locked away and you don’t use them for a few years. Then one day you want to use them, but they’re too small now because you outgrew this.” 

“‘M sort of confused as to how this relates to me trying to protect my heart.” 

“If you just keep it to yourself, maybe it'll be like the rollerblades. When you do decide to try it, it won't be any good. You should take a chance. Got nothing to lose.” You told him. 

“I guess that kind of makes sense. Thanks, y/n.” He smiled. 

“No problem, friend.” 

-

You helped Tom study for finals, making his study guides colorful and organized and quizzing him with flashcards. 

He even let you put up some Christmas lights in his apartment. 

Finals came and went and soon it was time for students to go home for the holidays or at least for break if they didn’t celebrate Christmas. 

You were done packing up to head to your family’s house for the holiday when you remembered you had one last thing to do before you left. 

Knocking on Tom’s door, you smiled and showed him the two digital train tickets on your phone. 

“You didn’t think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?” You asked, shock and confusion coming over Tom’s face. 

“You want me to spend Christmas with you?” He asked. 

“Yup. My family said it’s fine and I’m only going there for a few days. And so are you because I don’t want you being alone on Christmas.” You told him. 

“What should I pack?”

-

“Tom, Tom, hey! Wake up!” You whispered, shaking him awake. It was Christmas morning and you only had one bed for you and Tom so you had to share with him. Not that you minded, he was a good cuddler. 

“Hm what?” He mumbled. 

“It’s Christmas!” You whispered excitedly, making him smile. 

“Is it now?” He mumbled, a smile on his lips. 

“Come onnn, I have a present for you!” 

Tom opened his eyes, smiling when he saw you sitting up and smiling. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything.” He told you, making you shake your head. 

“Just open it.” You instructed, handing him the small gift bag. 

He reached in, pulling out the London ornament. 

“Do you like it?” You asked shyly. 

“I love it. Thank you so much, y/n.” He replied, admiring the London sites on the ornament. 

“Come on, let’s go downstairs.” 

Once downstairs, you watched as your siblings opened their presents. You and Tom sat on the couch, neither of you noticing the way Tom’s arm almost instinctively went around your shoulders. Or the way you leaned into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder. 

When everyone was done opening presents and your family was distracted, Tom got up and held his hand out for you to take, telling you he had something for you. 

You followed him to the dining room, where you saw a gift bag, Tom softly instructing you to open it. 

Inside you found a few scented candles, along with DVDs of your favorite Christmas movies, and an ornament in the shape of a pair of rollerblades. 

“Tom this is, this is so much.” You whispered, tears in your eyes. 

“Felt like this was the least I could do after all you’ve done for me.” He said softly. “And uh, I hope you like the rollerblade ornament.” 

“I love it, Tom.” 

“You know, someone I know once told me to uh, give using my heart again a chance.” He muttered, feeling his heart pound in his chest. 

“Think I know who you’re talking about.” You smiled, feeling butterflies in your stomach as he came closer. “Any particular reason you’re bringing this up?” 

“I think I figured out who I can let in.” He whispered. 

“Yeah? Who’s that?” You asked as he took one step closer. 

“You.” He mumbled, pressing his lips to yours softly. 

You wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him while his hands rested against your waist softly. 

“Must be one special girl.” You whispered against his lips when you pulled away, making him smile and chuckle as his hands wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him. 

“Yeah. She’s pretty special to me.” 

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland x female!reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst

[daviddobrikisabitch-blog]

Patience / David Dobrik Smut

warning: this is rated R. real icky stuff, pals. adults only!!! pff

summary: the main character’s boyfriend is David Dobrik and they’re in love n stuff. it’s fun

word count: 4,020

enjoy!!! <3

Patience is a lovely virtue. What a wonderful, gratifying, ethical thing to practice. Yes, I'm sure that knowing the ethics and the merit of this manner is probably all well and good enough to make a lot of people find it within themselves to just generally suck it up and friggin' wait for things; however, this is a method that I definitely have yet to master. In fact, I'm quite certain that I am going to need a lot more practice. I am just so fucking bad at handling anticipation. Sometimes I find the grip of apprehension to be so unbearably tight that I just give way to the tension and collapse under the pressure. It's around 1a.m. when I have exhausted all the apps on my phone, and I decide that I don't want to be alone in this big, lonely bed anymore. It's actually only been about 20 minutes since I came in here, but it feels like it's been a lot longer. Perhaps that's because I am finding it very difficult to stop thinking about that boy who is in the other room, just a short journey away from me. He is just as alone as I am right now, and I am almost certain that he must be thinking about me too. The thought of him is definitely a very hard thought to ignore, especially when it is so dang easy to just go walk out and see him. Nothing is holding me back. I get out of bed and quietly tiptoe my way into the living room. And there he is - David Dobrik. The love of my life. Still laying there on the couch in his favourite position; the same position that he had been in when I had announced that I was heading to bed less than half an hour ago. His legs are stretched out across the cushions in front of him, his head is propped up with a pillow behind his neck, and his laptop is resting on his chest. He must be comfy, but I'm pretty sure that this scrunched up way he always lays when he edits is really bad for his back. But he gets annoyed when I remind him of this, and at this point I've learned to just keep it to myself. I don't have the best posture either. Maybe he hasn't noticed that I'm standing here yet. Perhaps he is far too immersed in his work; his laptop speakers are blasting choppy bits and pieces of noise, various voices, music, and loud laughter, and his fingers are clicking and swiping away at the mousepad, organizing all of the clips and sounds to fit that finished puzzle he has in his vision. His brown hair is a dishevelled, fluffy mess, and his brow is furled as he concentrates on the screen in front of him. I love the way that he looks when he's focused. When he's creating that thing that invigorates him and lights the fire his under his ass. I can practically see that blazing ball of passion glowing brightly behind his eyes as he works. It's so strong; so much so that it's as though I can actually feel it energizing the air around him and flowing all throughout the room. It cascades over me and lingers on my skin, sending excited chills up my spine; this fire he kindles has long since ignited a bright spark somewhere deep inside of me. I've felt these torrid flames for some time now, and they only seem to be growing more and more radiant as each moment with him passes. I'm in love with that great intensity that lives inside of David's heart. I love to be around it; I love feeling it. It is fucking intoxicating. I would blissfully soak in it forever if I could; but ironically, that blazing motivation that he possesses makes him a little bit unavailable at times... I softly and slowly start to move closer to the couch; closer to David. I'm trying to be as dainty with my movements as possible; a part of me is hoping that he won't notice me. I'm having an internal debate about whether or not I should try and scare him, but my heart really doesn't want to disrupt him like that when he is clearly so in the zone (even though the prick has absolutely no problem scaring the absolute shit out of me and everyone else he loves). The soft spot I've grown for him can perhaps be a little bit too soft sometimes. I'm right next to him now, but I've decided not to scare him. I'm just standing here trying to figure out how to gently announce myself without giving him a start, but before I can think of it he is already looking at me. He doesn't really jump at all, but his eyebrows raise in a surprised fashion. "Fuck! When did you get there? You creep, Jesus Christ." A flush of warmth washes over me. Awe. Shit. I missed his voice. It sounds so tender and homey to me. Even though his words are calling me a creep... every sound still manages to flutter my heart. I grin at him. "You should really work on those peripherals, bud. If I was an assassin sent here to kill you I bet I could have easily just taken you out." He rolls his eyes at me, but he's smiling. I continue. "Dave, seriously, one swift lunge at you and I'd have my arm right around your neck and then just fuckin'-" I make a menacing *crack* sound. He's just smirking at me. It's that smirk that he does; the annoyingly sexy one. He knows that if I let go of my composure for too long, that captivating smirk has the potential of making me a blushy, flustered fawn of a woman; I'd become putty in those (probably already sweaty) palms of his. But now, I keep myself firm and I squeeze onto that composure as tightly as I can. No way am I going to give him the upper hand here, as he always seems to manage to have. I'm feeling powerful tonight. "Oh, yeah? How are you gonna manage that with those noodle arms?" He mocks me. I scoff at his honesty and pretend to be offended for a moment. But, I cave. My arms are, in fact, quite noodly. "Fine, okay, fair enough. But ... You fucking love pasta." He makes a deep humming sound and pauses for a moment. I can sense that he is beginning to fully take in my presence. His eyes are moving down my body, and although he is good at keeping his gaze languid and lazy, I can feel his flames turn that special shade that they only become when he's around me. He likes to play coy and act like I don't have the effect on him that I do; he likes to be in control. Or, he likes to seem in control. But, I know that underneath all that strongly painted bravado, David actually loves the submissive way that I can make him feel. In his life of constant domination and authority, he fucking craves it. While it's quiet, I sit down on the couch in front of him, placing myself right over his stretched out legs. He exhales audibly (do I sense a hint of frustration?) and he turns his eyes back to his laptop screen. "Honestly, baby, I knew you were there the whole time," he smugly informs me. The ghost of that fucking smirk is still lingering over his lips. "I just wanted you to give you a bit of hope... You know you can't sneak up on me." I giggle a little bit. "Right, of course, David. Of course you knew the whole time. Because that means that, technically... You were the one sneaking up on me... Right? Because you were being the sneaky one in choosing not to notice my sneakiness." "Uh, not "your sneakiness". Your attempted and failed sneakiness," he cockily corrects me. "And yeah, it's funny how I always win no matter what, huh?" This was all apart of his act. He knows full well that when we're together, we both always win no matter what. He just likes to tease me, and he knows that I fucking love it. He knows that I can tease him back just as indomitably. "When you win, I win. We're on the same team, baby. I'm rooting for you." This makes him make eye contact with me again for a moment, and we share a deep, knowing gaze; I feel a pang of heat inside of me and it's as if I can actually see that pang glow behind his eyes. He's blushing. Yes, he can play "manly" and domineering all he wants, but it's obvious how he really feels; I can make him just as flustered as he makes me. "I'm happy to have your noods on my team," he cracks. I laugh and then I lift my arms up into a flex. "What, these sexy things?" Raising my arms makes my pink, cropped "CLICKBAIT" hoodie lift up and reveal a hint of my breasts, and David definitely notices. How could he not? I've got nothing else on but these tight, hip-hugging, matching pink shorts. I am definitely creating a view that David could really get (all up) into, but it's clear that he wants to hold back his passion for me right now. It's already a few hours into Saturday and people are expecting a new video. David is not one to enjoy letting people (or himself) down. So, he keeps a hold on his composure, while I let my hands fall down onto his legs. "I guess I understand why you're happy..." I say as I let my fingertips lightly drag up his plaid pajama bottoms. He has a boner. He does that a lot. The connection we share can have him hard as a rock within seconds of even the smallest notion of something sexual between us. I absolutely love it, but he can find it quite annoying at times. "Okay, seriously, baby... Please stop... Please," he begs, and as he says this I notice his cock stir. Ironically, it really turns both of us on when one of us tries to deny our obvious, intense sexual tension. There is really no hiding it; this feeling is powerful as fuck. "I told you I was coming to bed soon, just please wait until I'm finished." I move my hands away from him and I sigh and pout. He's trying not to look at me, but I see him make a couple glances. Of course, he's still smirking a slight bit. Often when he acts like he's pushing away our sexuality, he's really hoping that I keep trying to convince him. And I always do. "The vlog isn't gonna suck your cock, Dave." He lets out a loud laugh and covers his flushed face with his hand. "Baby, fuck off, I'm serious! Shut your pretty little mouth." I'm blushing now. "Shut my pretty little mouth where? Around that hard cock you've got there?" He chuckles darkly and looks right at me, his eyes fervent. "You better stop," he sternly tells me. I see right through it. "What if I don't?" I taunt. He bites his bottom lip and shakes his head. "You better stop." He managed an air of authority there that made my pussy pulse a little bit. What can I say: I love it when he tells me what to do. And I love seeing what he does when I don't do what he says even more... "Okay, fine." I move off of his legs and crawl a few feet over to the other side of the couch. He huffs and goes back to editing, trying his hardest not to pay attention to me. I'm facing him, mirroring his position, watching him work again. He's much more unhinged than he'd been earlier; he's having trouble breathing normally and there is a vein bulging on his neck. His face is still red, and I'm certain that his palms must be very sweaty by now. I gradually move my stare down the curves of his neck, down his t-shirt covered chest and stomach... his cock is still hard. I can see the outline of it bulging through the thin fabric of his pajamas. That thick, beautiful cock that I've come to love so much. I'm finding it hard not to stare... not to trace along the imprint with my heated gaze; not to notice how tense my surely soaked pussy has been feeling and how that feeling is building with every passing second... and I can tell that he's finding it hard not to think about this as well, because as I'm letting these naughty thoughts pass through my head, the blush on his cheeks deepens. I can't help it. I'm picturing him naked; I'm thinking about what that lovely cock looks like beneath that fabric. I'm thinking about how hard I've made him, and about how firm he would feel if my hand was wrapped around his shaft. I love that look he gets on his face when I push my tongue out of my mouth and I slowly lean in, my eyes watching his carefully as I finally let the soft, warm wetness touch the smooth head of his cock... he tends to make sounds as well. Little, gaspy types of sounds. Sometimes they're almost accusatory as if he's scolding me for being such a cock-sucking little slut. But, he's never really scolding me... he feels blessed to have such an absolute thot be so madly in love with him. I'm breathing heavily now, and I keep sighing exasperatedly. Fantasizing about David is a dangerous game to play... it's often too much for me to handle; my pussy practically starts screaming. And I know that he can hear it... even though he's acting like he can't. He can't hide his true feelings with me; I know how badly he wants to just toss his laptop aside and come clamber on top of me. And knowing how badly he wants it, but watching him pretend like he doesn't... it only turns me on even more. I'm thinking about his fingers now... swiping away on that mousepad. It's wild to me how he can use that laptop pad to edit and not have to use a regular mouse... it (like most things he does) can make my pussy go nuts. Thinking about his fingertip swiftly gliding back and forth across that smooth surface, occasionally pressing it inward... this can definitely become an overwhelming thought. As I let myself fall further into my imagination, I bring my hands toward my body and I start to graze my own fingertips along my bare thighs. I tickle them for a few moments, listening to the sounds of David editing and watching the intensity on his face; bringing my gaze lower and admiring his jawline; even lower to watch the way the delicate parts of his neck move as he swallows and tenses up. Basking in the heat I'm feeling, I gradually move my hands upward to brush over my exposed stomach; very lightly, and tantalizingly slow. I revel in the sensations and the excitement as I come into a decision that has me giddy with foretaste. I get into a better position, getting comfy against a pillow behind me and then I spread open my legs as wide as I can. My one leg gets pushed against the back of the couch, and my other foot is placed over on the floor. My movement catches a glance from David, and then he does a well-deserved doubletake, his eyebrows shooting up. "What the fuck are you doing?" He asks, but I'm pretty sure he knows what I'm doing. I can tell that he's trying to act shocked and agitated, but he just can't seem to keep the corners of his mouth from turning up. "I'm getting comfy," I say matter-of-factly. And then I pull my sweater up over my breasts. He fully grins at me. "You fucking slut..." he's watching me intently, a madcap look behind his eyes. He's already slightly moving his laptop to the side. I giggle and I bring my hands up to start massaging my boobs for his viewing pleasure. "Your fucking slut," I correct him. "Oh, fuck you," he says hoarsely before biting his lip. His brows furl as he watches me pinch and tug at my nipples. "Oh, fuck me? Please?" I lower my right hand between my legs and I run it's fingertips across the inside of my thigh, slowly leading them over to my fabric-covered pussy. The tension has me already grinding my hips back and forth against my shorts, in desperate need of friction. David makes a noise that falls between a huff and a groan, and he puts his laptop on the floor. "You're just my fucking desperate, sexy, little slut, aren't you?" He makes a move to come towards me, but I have other plans. "Stop." He stops. "You stay over there." He makes a face - slightly dismayed, but clearly elated and excited to see what happens next. He gets comfy on the other side of the couch. "You make me stop working and now you won't even let me touch you?" "Hey, I didn't make you do anything, Dave. You're the one that put down the laptop." I brush my fingers over my clit and a rush of thrill runs through me. It makes my eyes close and my lips part involuntarily, and I make a small sound. "You bitch," he says, his tone low and kind of whiney. I giggle again, and I rub myself in circles over my shorts, opening my eyes and looking right at him as I start to immerse myself in the pleasure. He stares back at me, slowly shaking his head with his eyes narrowed. "Does that feel good, you fucking tease?" I immediately start nodding and bite my lip as I moan a little bit. We're both blushing profusely. He's breathing almost just as heavily as I am, and he can't seem to sit still. He keeps switching his gaze between my eyes and my hand, and every time we make eye contact there is a hitch in both of our breath. I moan again and he is looking more and more desperate by the second. He keeps fidgeting; grabbing at his pants, touching his neck, running a hand roughly through his hair... And when I bring my legs together for a moment so that I can tug off my shorts (reveal that I am not wearing any panties) and toss them at his face with a giggle, he huffs yet another time and slumps himself into the couch, letting his arms fall limp at his sides and staring at me as I spread my legs for him again. I do it slowly because the suspense is always important. He gazes at my exposed pussy as if it's the holy grail. "Baby..." he says quietly, letting the word drag out a bit. I smile and nod. "Yep-" I use both hands to open and expose myself even deeper. "That's where it would come out of." His wide grin is always priceless. He speaks, and his tone is downright giddy. "That's where 'it' would cum into..." I let out a "ha ha" at his pun, my eyes lingering on his as I start tracing my fingertips around my pussy. Not on my pussy... Not yet. Like I said: suspense is important. I'm tickling the delicate skin all around it, looking at David's reaction intently. He licks his lips and I watch as he brings his hand over his fabric-covered cock. He squeezes it, and as he does my pussy tightens, knowing he's about to retaliate. "Look what you've done..." he scolds me. "Look how hard I am, baby." He squeezes it again, and then he pulls it out of his pants. My eyes widen, as they do every time I see that beautiful thing. What a perfect cock. Literally the perfect cock for me. I trace the curves of it with my eyes as I trace the curves of my pussy with my fingertips. David wraps his palm around his shaft. "You've started a war," he says as he slowly starts to rub himself. I grin and bite my lip. "Yeah, well, I'm pretty confident in my army..." I run my pointer finger right down the middle of my pussy and my lips part with a small sigh. David groans. "Yeah, your fuckin... Your noodle army." Leave it to David to make me full out belly laugh while my fingers are on my vagina. "Both noodle armies." I wave at him with both arms and then my left-hand finds one of my breasts and my right-hand goes back downtown. I tug at my nipple as I finally let my finger slip inside of me. Gently, though. Just a little dip and swirl. David goes nuts at even the slightest touch. I can see the sweat dripping down his glistening forehead. What are you thinking about, huh, baby?" He asks me. I bite my bottom lip again and I crack a half-smirk. "I'm thinking about you watching me..." I tell him. And it's true. The thought of him watching me in this kind of state is almost too much for me to handle.  I have to keep teasing myself so that I don't cum too fast and ruin the show. It's clear that David loves to hear that I think about him when I masturbate. The head of his cock is getting to be a strained, purplish colour, and the look on his face is priceless. I pump two fingers inside of me, and he sighs. "You're a goddess," he says, matter-of-factly. I purse my lips and shrug my shoulders. "Who, me? No, no... just a noodle." I slip my fingers out of myself and place them on the clit, rubbing in circles ever so softly. David speeds up his own assault on his cock. "I'm a hard noodle." The strained look on his face... his eyes strained closed; his lips pursed in a light-hearted grimace. I can't help but giggle at him again. He's so cute and hilarious, especially when he's all horny and needy. I want to get on top of him so badly. "We both love pasta," I whisper with a giddy grin. I can hardly take what I'm doing seriously with all this silliness that's going on. "You're making it hard to be sexy," I say. He goes, "Ha!" "I can promise you, baby. I'm definitely hard and you're definitely sexy." "You're sexy, too," I assure him. And he is, oh wow. I don't even know how to describe the intense feeling I get when I look at this boy; when I think about this boy. This passion... It could set the world on fire. The urges are astronomical. David starts to shake his head. "What are we doing right now?" He asks. "Why are you not on top of me?" I smile. "We're seeing who's gonna crack first." "Oh, it's gonna be you," he informs me. "You make me lose focus and stop editing, you get the heck over here." I smile wider and shake my head. "No. You thought editing is more important than giving the love of your life attention and now you realize how silly that is. Now, you come over here." We both pause and contently watch each other in silence. We're both still touching ourselves, but only lightly. We're mostly just admiring each other; neither of us is really waiting for the other to come over. We're just content in the soft stillness right now, admiring the beauty of one another. There's no need for a fuss or a big desperate commotion. We are happy.

#david dobrik #david dobrik smut #david dobrik imagine #david imagine #david smut #david dobrik imagines #david dobrik x reader #david dobrik fanfiction #david dobrik fanfic #smut

[maiuoart]

Depressed Human.

Today... Was a difficult day.

The whole day, you slumped with a large weight on your chest. It dragged you down, dragged you til you felt like crawling. But you continued onward, had to, needed to.

Today was a day you wish never came, but it came nonetheless. The amount of pain it produced caused your heart to cave into itself, your brain fogging with nonsense, and your ability to process anything dwindled to nothing. 

You didn’t desire to talk to any of your friends, to do your hobbies, work even took a large tool on your shoulders. Though you could crack a genuine smile at your favorite pictures, it only lasted for seconds before you felt like breaking.

For once in your life, you didn’t have the Passion to hold anything. Forced your movements with a fake smile and hoping no one would ask about anything.

It was only until after you were face to face with a familiar tall Skeleton monster, did you feel your mask start to crumble.

“Hey, Russ... How’re you doin’?” Trying to muster as much cheer as you could, you smiled tiredly up at the being.

“s’good, jus’ headin’ out fer a bite...” He motioned in the direction with a soft grin on his fangs. “wanna join?”

Normally you would tag along, listen to his stories of whatever had happened during the day.

“No, thanks... Not into paying your tab for you.” You joked softly, forcing a soft chuckle out. 

All you wanted to do was get into your comfortable bed, curl up with some music, maybe have a few drinks to swallow your pity, and sleep.

Russ simply stared at you with a quirked brow raised, a normal flirty smirk on his fangs absent as he narrowed his sights on you.

“ya sure, Darlin’? got a nice, silly story tha’ might make ya crack a perty smile.” He tried to bargain with you, a natural bribe that would work...

...If you hadn’t had just lost someone close to you.

“I’m sure, Russ... You tell the sweethearts I say hey, alright? I’m-... Just going to chill for a while.” You stuck your hands into your pockets with a grin you hoped was teasing. “Any new ladies there, you hit on them twice as hard so I can hear ‘em swoon from here, huh?”

Due to being in the relationship you were in, you had always found it absolutely hilarious that Papyrus, the Hounddog, could always talk his way into anyones lives. Flirtatious ways or not, he was a smooth talker. 

It was more hilarious when his flirtatious ass got ahold of a very clingy fangirl... You’ve had to chase a few away for him, but he would never learn his lesson. Then it became a game, see how many he could get into a Fanclub about him at the bar...

To say that more than half the city was involved should say something.

With only knowing him for a few months, it was quite amazing how a Monster could do that. It never could work on you, you were as stubborn as a mule when it came to your relationship... Thankfully he backed off of you when telling him that, because he had became someone trustworthy to talk to when you had no one else... He was a good friend.

“oi, no promises... bu’ it’d be twice as good if ya had th’front row to it, huh? ‘sides, got th’whole silly shit on cam...” He took his phone out and wiggled it. “’n don’ say ‘send it’ to ya, cause i need, absolutely fuckin’ need, ta see tha’ face of yers in real time morph.”

“Another time, huh?” You smiled, feeling your heart give a hard stutter that time.

You were getting close before braking, you needed to get home.

Russ gave you a once over, before he gave you a pat on the top of your head. 

“allright... bu’ ya need me, ‘m jus’ a call away, huh?”

“We’re neighbors, Russ... You’re more than a few feet away.” You huffed, amused.

Even if you were trying to hide your cracking voice behind what was left of your facade.

“fair ‘nough, Darlin’.” He shrugged. “catch ya later, huh?”

“Yeah. Later, Papyrus.”

You both walked opposite ways... Running in your case. 

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

It was about 9pm and you were nursing your second drink with your favorite soda and alcohol. You added extra, but the first one you skipped from buzzed to straight up tipsy.

Thats what you get for not eating...

Looking to your cell phone as you sat at your desk, you saw a few missed messaged. Grabbing the accursed item, turning it to silent, you tossed it to your bed with an annoyed huff. No one needed to know about you, no one needed to poke their nosey little noses into your world while you’re breaking! 

You watched youtube, smiling and laughing at your favorite Let’s Players with their friends, watching adorable videos of random baby animals, and any other video that would take your mind off of anything.

The whole time, your face was red, wet, and eyes stung. By your third mix drink, you didn’t know if it was due to laughing so hard at someone tripping and falling down the stairs or you were legit crying at what today was.

After so long, after such a painful decision on your part; Your patiences had run thin, your heart broke for the last time, and the darkness in the room felt so ungodly welcoming; You were done. 

You broke from the simplest thought; ‘I’ll never love again.’ 

You felt your chest shake with a sob as you felt the hole in your heart becoming larger.

A knock on your door made your uncontrollable fits of wheezing and sobbing quiet down, covering your mouth as to silence your lost self. 

You were in an apartment... Perhaps you had become too loud? They would just simply say something off a warning, wouldn’t they? 

...You don’t care.

Turning your laptop off, you crawled into your bed and covered up, leaving the rest of your mix abandoned. You’ll muffle your noises with the pillow from now, your heart pulsing in pain as you whimpered quietly under your sheets. Hoping to whatever Gods above the person would just talk and leave you alone. 

When the knocking stopped, you gave a shaky sigh of relief. Grabbing your phone, you were determined to see what everyone wanted... But your mind was distorted, you could barely type in your passcode correctly.

...Maybe you made your mix drinks a bit too strong... 

Never were a good drinker, anyways. The only reason was to allow yourself to focus on certain things, to relax after a hard day, or just purely to become silly. You were a good drunk, a silly drunk, kind that enjoyed to have fun. 

It would only be if your mind went into the darkness that you could fall quickly to being a sad one... But you had a good control on your emotions. 

Couldn’t down them like others you knew. Couldn’t still function like Papyrus when he could down about 10 strong monster ones. 

That had to have been more magic... Could that liquid even effect him? Oh my god, what if he just pulled a show and had some sort of bucket or something inside his clothing to catch all the liquid!? 

No wonder he could outdrink so many people! Had to be a cheater... 

You found yourself chuckling at the memory, only to rub your eyes to dry them. Everything sucked... Why did you drink again? To swallow your pity? If anything, it was making you feel worse... 

“Emotions suck, man...” You groaned into your pillow, hugging it hard as you tried to stop another onslaught of sobs from why you were drinking.

“i’d say, ya had me worried, Darlin’.” A husky voice startled you, making you yelp and jump. 

Sitting up, your turned your head to view a fuzzy Papyrus standing in your room, wearing a black turtleneck with dark jeans, his chains jingling softly as he walked over. 

“Paps-... Wha-” You narrowed your dizzy vision, the room spinning from getting up too fast. 

“somethin’ was goin’ on outside, some rooms were kicked in. a bit of anti-monsta humans apparently rushed inta th’partment buildin’, lookin’ ta fight... uh, s’i called ya, hopin ya weren’t-... well, hurt.” He sat at the edge of the bed, his weight barely registering to you as you sat on your knees. “when ya didn’ answer, i uh-... heh, came as fast as i could...”

“Th’fuck... Hooman jerks?” You slurred. “I uh... Been in m’room th’ whole time, doode. Didn’t ‘ear nuthin’. Well, cept a few knockins’... bu’ they stopped.” 

“yeah?... tha’s good.” He sighed, but looked confused about something.

Your eyes narrowed before you pointed accusingly at him, wanting to call him out on his drinking bullshit before you forgot!

“Cheat!”

Papyrus gave a disbelief look in his sockets as he watched your face, then huffed with amusement. “...you drunk, Kitten?”

Your cheeked puffed and you pointed right back at him again. 

“Don’ change subject... Ya cheat!”

“okay, okay... th’fuck did i cheat in, Sugah?” He purred, poking your pointed finger with his own as his fangs turned upward in a smirk.

“Drinkin’, ya cheat everyone in drinkin’!...” You playfully swiped his hand away, your scowl quickly erased by your smile. “Bet ya had a bucket inside yer body t’catch the stuff, huh!?” Your eyes went down to his midsection, curious if you could get a hint of a form of a bucket or anything.

You slumped, not seeing one.

Papyrus began to laugh, his voice ringing like bells to your otherwise ringing head.

“oh, noooo... how’ja catch me? thou’t I had m’game all covered, not a lick spillin’ of m’secrets...” He cooed, leaning back on the bed with his smile.

“Just makes sense, I’m onta yooh!” You smiled cheekily, only to blink and rub your eyes, traces of wet tracks still on your face. “Fook, why you here ‘gain?”

Papyrus didn’t answer.

“Paps?”

“y’know... ya never call me Papyrus or Paps unless yer really under some type’a stress.” 

You bit your lip, looking down at your pillow as a hand grabbed your blanket. 

“S-...sowrries.” You grumbled, playing with your sheets. “T’day wasn’t good, didn’ want company...”

“mmm... welp...” His weight lifted from your bed, and you were hoping he would just do his disappearing act to leave you. 

Leave, just like many others.

...Oh god, don’t you start-

He picked you up swiftly, bundling you up in your comforters as you squirmed to protest, but his arms were too quick for you to push off.

“H-heeeh?! P-Paps, th’fuck--” “yer adorable as fuck bein’ drunk, now i see why ya didn’ wanna try ta outdrink me, Darlin.” Papyrus gave you a mocked cradle rock, making you growl but it was lost to a soft laugh as his fingers wiggled into your side from the blanket, making you squeak from the sudden tickling. “such a babe.”

“I swears t’god, if ya weren’t m’friend, I would smack you!” You squirmed again, trying hard to undo the blasted blankets to make your point to free your arms.

“mmmmm... ya could try, bu’ ya couldn’ hit me, even if ya were sober.” He chuckled at your attempt, walking you out of your room and somewhere else. “‘sides, ya seem to be a bit-... bundled up, Kitten.”

“S’no fair! An’ s’no fair you can pick me up! I can pick ya up, too, y’know!” You began to succumb to his holdings, feeling oddly soft the more he held onto you.

“oh, m’so sure ya can... always an Alley cat, tryna prove yer point.” He once more gave you a rock. “bu’, lemme baby you a bit, huh?”

Your brows furrowed as you glanced at him. “Why? I ain’t blubberin’ er nuthin’...” You sulked into the cocoon blanket, forcing the blankets hood up over your head as you glared at him.

What was he up to? 

“nah, thats where yer wrong.” He said, pointing at your chest with his free hand. “can hear yer fuckin’ Soul thrummin’ like a damn siren. if ya can gain my attention, then yer’ll gain otha’s. ‘n trust me, Kitten, a monsta would love ta fuckin’ eat ya up.” He sounded serious, dangerously so.

You stilled in his grasp, your eyes going wide.

“Y-you-... You gunna-” “ya want me ta?” Papyrus gave you a large cheshire grin, and your face instantly flushed more than any alcohol you drank during the night.

“i’d rather gobble ya up than hear some otha monsta did it... heh, ya jus’ too damn cute, Kitten.” He came close and nuzzled into your temple, hosting you up into his arms a bit tighter.

...You were trying so hard to bury your face into the blanket, trying to get away from his cooings and nuzzling, you just seemed to have become lost in a dark tunnel. 

Only Papyrus deep chuckle made you peek from having your eyes closed shut tight.

“Kitten, i’m jus’ jokin’... c’mon, i’d rather beat th’fuckers up who try ta eat cha... i mean, yer taken, right? gotta protect-”

....Oh... That did it.

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

Papyrus had taken you to his own apartment, into his room as your sniffling was settling down. You hiccuped and managed to squirm your hands up and over your eyes, covering your face as you whimpered softly as you could, but no doubt looked a mess. You curled into the blanket harder as Papyrus seemed to have sat down, sitting you down in his lap.

His arms were wrapping around you securely, a boney hand coming up and gently running down your hair in a means to soothe you, his jaw against your head.

“oi, s’okay... i’m sorri’, Darlin’... i didn’t-” “N-no... S’okay, like ya knew, ya damn dork...” You choked, a dry laugh coming out as it was replaced by a hiccup. “... m’sorry”

“what’re ya sorri fer? th’fuck? nah, don’ say that.” He chided you gently, running his hands over your scalp. “ya wanna talk ‘bout it?”

Talking would feel good...

You leaned into his touch, his hold, curling up more as you hid your face down into his shoulder, a hand grabbing his sweater as you hiccuped once again.

“N-...no... Not now-” You whimpered as your chest gave another hard twist, making you twitch and push against him more.

God, it hurts... It hurts so much! Why?! Why does it-

“...ya were bonded, Kitten...”

That made you come out of your thoughts. Scrunching up your face, you looked up to Papyrus. “Bonded?... Like-... Like Soul bond?”

“yup... ya were Soulbonded ta yer-... well. ta ‘em.”

“...But-... How? We weren’t-” “Soulbonded is different than yer regula human customs.” Papyrus tucked your hair behind your ear, leaning back as he rubbed soothing circles on your back. 

“when ya Soulbond, it’s-... it’s confusin’ really... plenty of different types, lemme say... bu’ wha’ yer dealin’ wit’-... it’s a type dealin’ wit’ Mates, the best kinds. if ya feelin’ strong feelin’s fer one ‘notha, ya can create a Soulbond, even if ya were far away from th’otha.” He softly sighs, digging into his pocket for a smoke. “it jus’ takes one visit, fuck; one phone call, ta cause yerself ta Soulbond wit’ ‘notha human... s’easy, unlike wha’ monsta’s gotta do.”

After lighting it up and taking a drag, he continued. “Soulbond fer any of ‘em hurts, bu’ what really hurts is when ya separate th’metaphorical string tha’ ties a couple together. siblin’ bonds can be tied, broken, and retied like how Sans ‘n i have... cause we’re stuck wit’ one anotha, we’ll always care fer th’otha. bu’ Mates?... oi, tha’ shit can be dangerous.”

“...Dangerous?” You parroted.

“mhm... when ya love someone, truly adore someone, yer tied. bu’, if they don’ love ya back or someone cuts th’strings, it can hurt so bad, some monsta’s have Fallen Down from it.” He took another deep inhale of his smoke, blowing it out as it danced and took your attention with some more than questionable cloud shapes.

As if they were beginning to tell a story within the smoke.

“ya see... i neva tried any deeper fer ya cause i could see how thick yer string was wrapped wit’ someone else’s was. s’was tied, like a lil’ ribbon wit’ a bow. whoever ya loved had loved ya back jus’ as much... them strings, there?” He pointed to the colorful threads beginning to form. “when their a certain type of thickness, they can be pretty hard ta break. so, th’thicker th’connection, the harder it is fer someone t’come along ‘n break it.”

You choked on a sob when images danced in the smoke, imagines you knew that were you and the one you broke up with, the beautiful strings of both color traits entangling the other almost lovingly.

“means tha’ ya both protect th’otha. when a monsta sees that, pretty much ya ain’ gunna be fucked wit’. our kind respects such a sight, ‘n it kinda makes more than some of us sick ta our Souls. s’was rare in th’Underground... thou’, wit’cha hurtin’ and yer Soul wailin’ as it is, wit’ the string cut ‘n th’Mates string slowly evaporating... well, yer gunna be attractin’ a lot of attention.”

The smoke began to darken, lighter orbs of pairs shown up in the darkness surrounding the two, looking as if they were eyes staring as the two figures separated. Your jaw was clenching, and your heart was wailing to not leave the other.

But it was already going, already done, the strings between the two dissolving as if a bridge was being burned between the two.

“a monsta is made up of Love, Hope, n’ Compassion.” Papyrus waved a bony hand through the smoke, separating one of the figures and waving the other side away. “bu’ the problem wit’ us is tha’ we’ve turned... we’re corrupted, so we got a few screws loose... n’ when a Soul is wailin’, it makes a creature-... well, thirst fer th’ corruption of ones Soul. we desire ta take ahold of it, cause it’s in a vulnerable state of mind tha’ some can’t help but-”

Papyrus’ hand began to curl around the now curled figure, who seemed to be sobbing on the ground, his finger traced over the silhouette and you felt your whole back shutter with something unknown. 

“-want ‘em fer their own.”

Once his hand came around, you suppressed a yelp as it felt your whole body was feeling as if it was being wrapped around. Your heart was stuttering in your chest, your glare moved to Papyrus who was looking at the smoke with an unreadable emotion.

“...they’ll come ‘n ‘gobble ya up’... y’know what i’m sayin’?” His expression softened as he turned his face down to you, the feeling of being squeezed left as his hand rested on your knees. 

You could feel yourself shake under the blankets, new sets of tears on their way as you tried to process what he was saying.

“So... Vulnerable Souls attract-... Monsters, cause they like the Lost?...” Your shaking was speeding up, gulping thickly. “Th-they-”

“whoa, whoa.. calm down, Darlin’. i ain’ gunna hurt’cha.” He chuckled softly, the noise helping ease you.

But not entirely.

“yah, monsta’s will come ‘n try ta gain ya under their arms. they crave that, ‘n some will hurt th’humans worse afta they get what they want, maybe do it ta keep ‘em. bu’ some...”

Papyrus began to undo the blanket from your shoulder, shifting you to sit up right as the blanket fell from your shoulders. He cupped your tear tracked face, looking into your eyes with such intensity that it made you forget your heart turning in pain for a moment.

“some of us... wanna heal more than harm...” He softly whispered, bring you into him softly. “not all monsta’s are crazy... i gotta say some would wanna cage ya up, trap ya in their area, go fuckin’ psycho... bu’, i’d rather... heal ya, Angel.” He softly breathed against your lips, his thumb brushing against your cheek as it wiped away some tears in its wake.

“B-but... That-... Heal how?...” You managed to ask, pulling away slightly as he tried to lean more into you.

Papyrus’ eyes flashed with something that was too quick for you to catch, but his hand came down and gently hovered over your chest, where your heart was twisting with pain and felt as if it would explode.

“heal... yer Soul tha’s singin’ such a sad, sad song, Angel... ‘n out of all th’ monsta’s from Underground... i’m th’one ya need ta help heal ya th’best...” He purred softly. 

You squirmed a bit, trying to pull the blanket back up, but his other hand rested gently on your side, a soft shutter rolling through your body as a gentle pulse of heat began to cover your body. 

...You didn’t realize you were sighing in relief as Papyrus pressed his bony palm against your heart. The warmth surrounded you like a blanket, what felt like flames nipping the bottom of your heart was racing away the harmful knives, making you take a deeper breath.

“O-oh... Lord, Russ?...” You tried, bringing your hand up and gently grabbing ahold of his wrist. “R-russ, what’re-”

“ya feel th’heat, Darlin’?...” When did his skull get beside your ear? “tha’s jus’ how m’magic is... allow it ta wrap ya up, i gotcha... s’allright...” He was talking so gently...

You felt your mind becoming foggy, your body relaxing back into that hold of his that was becoming a quick comfort. 

Nuzzling into his vertebrae, you sighed in relief once more as you felt his overwhelming magic softly enwrap you more... And more... It was becoming too warm, but for right now-...

You didn’t care.

He was making your heart stop hurting, could feel some sort of humming coming from the contact of his bones that synced with his magic pulsing through you like harmony. It was beautiful, could feel every single part of your body that had the slightest bit of pain, throb ever so slightly before it vanished under his touch.

Then, you felt tired.

So tired.

You drifted off in the comforts of bones, clinging onto him like a lifeline. 

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

The next day, you woke up in the same bony arms wrapped securely around you. You were in a different room, the curtains were blacked out as you shifted. Your head didn’t even hurt from what you drank, and you glanced down to your chest where you felt a weight. 

A smile escaped your lips as Papyrus was laying right on top of you, his skull rested just above your heart. It had a small stifle of pain, but it was quickly chased away by something warm...

It was chased away with Russ’ magic.

Gently, you rubbed his skull. He moved a bit, but otherwise stayed fast asleep on you. You gave a soft chuckle and decided to fall back to sleep with him.

Today... Was going to be a better day.

Couldn’t wait to see what Russ wanted to show you, either.

#Self insert #Depressive story #Swapfell Papyrus #A friend in need #A friend indeed #Soulbonding explaination #...Hm #A bit yAnDeRe there Russ? #Nah not even #...Maybe #Lolol #I just wanted to feel soft and needed a possessive take on it #I really wonder what Russ had on his phone #Probably something from doing Truth or Dares ;) #Happy ending #...Did you get Soulbonded to Russ? #Quite possibly #And tbh i would be okay with that #A fucking rebound story ftw

[parkeraul]

hunger – grease!shawn

a/n: anon suggested me grease!shawn on my askbox and as an obsessed person that i am for the 60′s, here i am trying this one little thing. depending on the feedbacks, this might turn into a series. let me know if you like it. pairing: shawn x reader.  words: 1,594 warning: hints of badboy!shawn and badgirl!reader ahead. boldness is going to be well appreciated in here, my dudes. 

One by one, all of the guys were climbing the bleachers to chill after an intense class. A couple of them quickly grabbing cigarettes, enjoying the opportunity as they couldn’t find that familiar figure of the inspector trailing her way all around the schoolyard looking for people to chastise.  Matt appeared right after, bringing soda drinks to everyone and throwing the cans to his friends and Connor followed, fixing his denim jacket as soon as he made his way to the top.  “Where did you get this?” Brian asked, frowning.  “Uhm... my mom got me this.” He could feel the judgemental stare of the boys nearly turning his body into flames as he checked his own outfit. “Had to drop my leather jacket for laundry...” He tried to justify, tilting his head down in shyness.  “Oh!” Ian aggressively held him by the shoulder and wiggled his limbs after whining. “Is momma’s little boy going to show up in diapers tomorrow too?”  “Shut up!” Connor’s arms tried to push Ian away. “This is trending right now, okay?”  “This is pretty much why the both of you haven’t had sex in 3 months.” Shawn’s raspy voice called them out, teasing them and smirking right after. He pointed his chin to a couple of girls looking up at them and grimacing after walking away.  Everybody in that school knew them. Guys would die to be a part of the crew and girls were always daydreaming about them during classes. Even though they used to give the teachers a hard time, they all had a special place in their hearts as well at the end of the day. And it could be shown by the way the gym teacher complimented their performances in a discreet mode or by the way the biology teacher tried hard to hold back a laugh everytime they joked during a test.  People could either eat them up... or hate the group to death. There was no place in between.  The ones who hated had to hate in silence so they wouldn’t get a taste of Brian’s stupid jokes or Ian’s threatens.  “Why is your girlfriend taking so long?” Shawn spoke in a firm tone, bringing Brian back to reality. “Test happens next class and she’s still not here with her fuckin’ notes.”  "Isn’t she down in there running like a dork?” Matt asked and everyone looked down.  She was hanging out with her old friends Lisa and Claire but holding hands with someone... new.  Lisa seemed to feel annoyed by the situation, so she saved herself from being a part of the party by holding her hands behind her back. Claire and Wendy were carrying the new girl around the school with rushed steps as they talked to her excitedly. Apparently, they were showing her all the spots and places inside the school before french class.  The girl couldn’t help being dragged by the two other loud girls and the grouchy one following behind with eyes constantly rolling. Everybody burning her silhouette with hungry and curious eyes as the skirt of her beautiful dress kept on swaying helplessly because, when her legs weren’t tiptoeing fast across the schoolyard, the wind used to show up a little bit rougher just to collapse against the fabric so it could draw the air with the pretty little patterns of her cloth.  They were all smiles and laughs, curiously studying her eyeliner, the style of her hair, the colour on her lips and the new girl pretended to listen whatever they were talking about as her eyes decided to get lost up in there by the bleachers.  “Who are they?” Capturing at least 5 different pairs of eyes inspecting her, she whispered softly to the girls without breaking eye-contact.  “Shawn Mendes’ stupid gang.” Lisa finally decided to speak, still keeping distance.  “Stupid, huh?” She could barely blink now, trying to confirm the ‘stupid’ concept by finding any typical boyish action.  “They’re not stupid...” Wendy said, toying with her dress to avoid looking Lisa in the eyes.  “You say this because your boyfriend is a part of the clownery.” Lisa calls her out once again, giving the boys a disgusting look and they all look away, except for the curly-haired one.  They start arguing and she seizes the moment to put up an internal challenge of who would dare to look away first?  No need to say that he had the same thing in mind.  “Mendes!” Matt called and he just mumbled a quick ‘Hm?’ “Clean up your chin, man.”  Worried, Shawn raises an eyebrow and has to give up on glancing at the pretty girl surrounded by Wendy’s friends.  “Why?” His hand makes the way up to touch his skin and everyone starts to laugh.  “You’re drooling all over the outsider!” Connor shouted and quickly covered his mouth when he saw Shawn’s fingers making a fist.  “Someone’s getting over Ashley!” Ian teases and the guys are now gathering around to make fun of him while they could.  Because Shawn had been always wearing this serious look on his face and acting like a leader so he would never be seen as the foolish member of the squad – and then nobody would ever try to confront him. And the boys learned to treat him like this after finding out that he wasn’t quite the polite guy when people stepped on his damn nerves.  Lots of hands shaking his body relentlessly and he kept the flat look on his expression, breathing deeply and bringing two fingers between his rosy lips, whistling loud and making the boys step back, fixing all of the jackets and hairs as they kept on joking silently.  Wendy catches Shawn’s eyeballs peeking her and he opens his arms in complain, quietly waiting for her to get the hint of his impatience kicking in.  Wendy finds the stairs and goes upwards, promptly taking a small paper from one of her pockets and giving it to Shawn. When he’s about to grab it, she pulls back.  “Three magic words?” Wendy asks, lips slightly apart as her hand goes to the back of her earshell, waiting for the answer.  “Gimme this shit.” His thick arm stretches towards her, palm open to receive the note as he speaks through gritted teeth.  “Wrong answer, mister.” Wendy turns to steal a quick peck from Brian’s lips and hides the paper filled with the answers to the french test inside the pocket of his black shirt. “Pass it on if he behaves.”  Lisa, Claire and Y/N are down in there near the trees. Lisa checks on her nails and Claire tells the new girl about how lovely Connor is and how she thinks that the rest of the group is about to ruin his innocence. Clearly a crush. And she’s not the only one with a crush.  Wendy has to stop in the middle of her way downstairs.  “Who’s that girl?” Shawn’s tone asks her rigidly.  “What girl?” Wendy plays the fool.  “Don’t fuckin’ make me ask you twice.” He throws and Brian is about to affront. Shawn notices and acts ‘cool’ to avoid fighting his best friend, still keeping his unmistakable attitude. “That one in the pink dress!” He points harshly and then lets his palm smack down against his thigh covered by the tight jeans, trying to vanish away the stress somehow.  Down by the trees, the conversation goes the same way.  “Who’s the curly boy?” She asks and Claire is quick to answer, just like when you ask someone about The Beatles: they could tell you all the details from head to toe by heart.  “Shawn Mendes, the one and only.”  “Her name is Y/N. But you don’t wanna get out with her.” Wendy says.  “But you don’t wanna get out with him.” Claire unconsciously imitates.  “Why not?”  “Her brother is a senior! He’s always bookin’ inside this amazing Camaro and he picks her up after the last classes everyday. You don’t wanna piss him off, believe me. He’s super duper jealous!” Wendy explains.  “He’s a piece of shit.” Lisa gets in the middle and warns. “He broke up with Ashley last summer and I had never seen anyone cry that much after vacation.”  “And no one could ever date him. He’s out of everyone’s leagues.” Claire vents, exhaling deeply. “Lucky ones who ever got their chance to place a kiss right onto his beautiful lips...”  “EW! Seriously, stop that or I’m going to throw up right here right now.” Lisa interrupts and she’s back at glancing him one more time.  As his greenish eyes move to catch hers, she can listen something about how unreal his skills were when things came to music and he could hear how she easily learned 4 languages during her whole life.  “She’s a fox!” Matt slips out... “He’s a hunk!” And Claire copies the context again.  “But you better watch out, ‘cause he’s a badass.” Lisa finishes.  “Go slow, she’s a badass.” Wendy gives her final information.  “Maybe we should see about that.” Both Y/N and Shawn are letting these words fly away from their lips in response and the inspector shows up to call everyone’s attention to head back to their classes. The guys were putting the cigarettes down, the girls were rearranging their skirts and people started walking back to the building.  Classroom filled with nervous students as the teacher walks in.  “Bonjour.” The teacher spoke flatly.  “Bonjour, professeure!” Y/N answers, catching her by surprise.  Well, not only her.  Maybe someone’s not going to need notes in a paper anymore. 

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes blurbs #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfics #grease!shawn #mine #ficsofmine

[andaleduardo]

Rooftop N.7

Ao3  N.6  N.8

 Tuesday 18.05.1993

“I'm gonna fuckin get ya, four-eyes!”

That’s the third time Henry spats those same exact words behind their backs, Eddie thinks to himself as he hears Richie throwing some lost response in shallow breaths.

“How’s that working-  fuck!  How’s that working for you, dude?”

To feel their sweaty hands intertwined, tight enough to stop blood circulation, would have been great if they were not trying to stop Henry Bowers from catching them and start throwing punches. They had been running for a bit now, and false respiratory complications aside, Richie knew that Eddie could go for longer than him, so he really hoped their chaser would have given up by the time he fell in utter exhaustion.

Running with a backpack is the weirdest fucking thing to do, Richie notices. And if he wasn't about to puke out a lung at the moment, he would have joked around, telling Eddie how ridiculous they must look. Like the backpack was doing them from behind or something.

Nah, he scratches off that option. That's way too bad, even for me.

So, he settles on running, because that's all he can do at the moment. Not even breathing. No, he doesn't think he can breathe, automatic mode at its best.

His clammy hand grasps tighter onto Eddie's to pull him forward along. Since his legs are smaller, it leaves him behind some steps, long enough to keep their arms stretched between them. Just as Richie was about to allow his body to pass out, a frustrated grunt was heard from behind them. A small reminder that they were still being chased.

See, things were going pretty regular today, at least for Eddie. As for Richie… well, let’s just say he had a few plans.

This morning, when they woke up to the sound of Eddie’s alarm an hour earlier than normal so as to avoid Sonia discovering the bedroom’s door locked, Eddie expected everything to be worse. And by worse he means more awkward. More tense between them than what it had been the day after the quarry, more distant from each other in opposition from last night’s events. But Richie woke up and threw his body on top of Eddie’s, and he had to turn on his ‘totally annoyed mode’ in order to keep things on the regular track.

After pushing Richie out of bed and onto the floor, he waited until the (apparently energetic in the morning) boy got dressed and left through the window. Then, in the room all by himself, Eddie unlocked the door carefully, attempting to keep the noise down, and got dressed and ready for school.

His mother, unsuspicious as ever, sat with him in the kitchen table to watch him eat breakfast and complain about life in general. Luckily, she didn’t come in time to see Eddie shove two plastic-wrapped peanut butter sandwiches on the outer pocket of his school bag.

When asked why he was leaving earlier than usual, Eddie answered with a simple

“I want to talk to the teacher about my work project before class starts.”

And off he went, mocking her naivety.

Richie was sitting on the sidewalk some houses away, just enough to be hidden from the Kaspbrak’s living room window. When Eddie approached him, bike by his side, he tossed the two sandwiches to his face, startling him out of his existence when one collided with his ear.

“Ouch, Eds! You sure know how to woo a guy.” Eddie watched as thankfulness made its way on Richie’s eyes as he grabbed the two sandwiches, now on his lap, and stuffed one in the pocket of his jacket.

Their ride to school was comfortingly quiet, the town was still waking up. They could see stores opening up, adults leaving their houses and entering their cars. There were no kids around, yet. And there wouldn’t be many until half an hour later, when they’d start their path to school. The morning air was vaguely chill, the rain from last night gave the asphalt a glossy touch and the sidewalks were slippery, along with the small patches of dirt and front backyards that looked alive and muddy.

Derry. What else could they say about a town that is heavily rained upon in the beginning of summer. Just Derry.

It wasn’t until they were stuck going around the school building to pass the 30 minutes left until their friends would arrive, that the awkwardness seemed to settle.

Eddie could easily say he was feeling terrified of what he allowed his body to do some hours prior. Did it happen? He couldn’t wrap is head around the reality of it, couldn’t distinguish if it was a dream or not. He wished it was.  Did it really happen? He thinks again.

Did I make things harder for us? If he weren’t so preoccupied, he would have laughed out loud for the innuendo of his question.

Oh God. He thinks. Fuck, no. This is so wrong on so many levels. There’s definitely nothing funny about the double meanings of that.

Embarrassed was an understatement for how he felt. Eddie was ready to turn around right now and leave Richie walking alone. He would run in any other direction, as long as it didn’t have Richie standing at the end of those.

Wrong paths they would have been.

On the other hand, Richie was sure it had been a dream. Pffff, yeah sure. Eddie gets a boner rutting against me?

Yowza! That’s the funniest joke I’ve heard since diapers.

But that didn’t explain why his cheeks felt warm, or why Eddie’s looked pink. That didn’t explain why Richie could feel his skin prickle where he can faintly remake the images of being in touch with another body.

Funny!

 -

 By the time their whole group was present by the bike rack, Beverly got the pleasure to announce, as she opened the zipper of her bag and shoved a hand inside it, that their party was still on. And then, as if it was the world’s most natural gesture, she took out a thick stack of purple … paper sheets?

“What’s that?” Ben had asked while leaning over Bev’s figure to read the words on the top paper.

Overexcited, Richie removed the whole stack from Bev’s hands and shook his arms in the middle of the group while grasping the papers. “These? There are flyers, baby!”   Bev’s aunt works in a stationary store, it was easy for her to print a hundred of them while working one of her single shifts.

Stan rolled his eyes and turned around to start walking towards the building, everyone subconsciously started following along.

“Flyers? Are you serious right now?” Eddie asked no one in particular. Bill, who was by his side, agreed to his surprised tone.

“Isn’t that a buh-bit ex-exss-” He struggled with the word, frustrated momentarily while the group kept walking but waiting for him to succeed. “-Excessive...?” He spoke carefully.

“No sir, no sir!” Richie took one of the flyers from his arms and stuck it in Bill’s face. Eddie peered over to see it for himself, too.

It was a fairly small piece of purple paper, with big blocky yellow letters announcing “PARTY”. Creative. Above that was some information like the date, which Eddie noticed was next Friday, the address to Mike’s barn, and, surrounded by musical notes’ doodles standing in a stupidly flashy neon font:

“LIVE MUSIC!”

“Live music?” Bill must have been reading the same part along with Eddie, because they both asked the same thing together, stuttering tossed aside.

Eddie and Bill shared a glance, then looked straight to the party organizers. Eddie mocked them. “Who’d you get to play there? Some shitty group with low percussion skills?”

Richie flashes him a grin. “That’s up to you to find out ain’t it?”

With a scoff, Eddie tore his eyes away to instead look around the school halls as if they were any interesting. “Yeah, right.”

“You promised!” Richie shrieked, surprised.

“I promised my ass, Richie!” He retorted back.

“I’ll take that, too, then.”

Bev rolled her eyes and bumped Richie’s elbow, he smiled sheepishly at her.

Trying to ignore the burning sensation on most of his skin, Eddie tore the flyer from Bill’s grip to read it over better while the others started handing out the rest of them throughout students.

That’s when he read it.

 everyone invited except Mullet Bowers and Greta-st Face Disaster

Oh man.

 And here they are, unwillingly skipping last period because it took Henry that long to understand why he was being laughed at in class. Nonetheless, he found out. Eddie had been walking to his chemistry lab along with Ben and Richie when the bull came out of nowhere, fumbling with rage (was it even necessary?).  By the time Richie spotted Henry at the end of the hall, he had grabbed Eddie’s hand and started off in the opposite direction.

Ben stood there, confused, and Eddie stumbled to try to keep up. He fell as soon as Richie began running, which took him three seconds, but their hands had been clasped together which meant Richie was pushed towards the floor, too.

That’s when Henry screams reached them. (seriously is it really necessary?) But Eddie’s thoughts were pushed out of his head when both of them stumbled to their feet, fingers still intertwined, and resumed properly running this time, still with a long advantage over the older bully.

Here they are now, long left school ground. Bowers was still after them and Eddie was trying to overlook past his burning muscles to think ‘Why did you drag me along, Richie?’ But maybe Eddie should be asking himself why he had let Richie drag him in the first place.

“Holy fuck…” Richie’s lungs were on fire. “No way- ugh! I need to-”

Eddie kept throwing glances behind his back, snapping his neck in weird angles. He couldn’t find any trace of Henry. He was about to warn Richie about it when suddenly he collided into the latter’s backpack. With a surprised grunt and an aching nose, Eddie let go of Richie’s hand and clasped both of his on his face. You could have warned me, dickhead! Eddie thought, but he was too busy panting to find enough oxygen to speak at the moment. He turned around once again just to make sure they were free of danger and lowered one of his hands to grab his backpack straps, an old habit he has.

They stared at each other in the middle of the street. Panting and harsh breathing. Aching legs and nose. They laughed. They laughed so much it started to hurt. They were slowly becoming two bundles of pain. Maybe they could merge together and become a single one. That sounded nice.

There wasn’t a coherent conversation after they stood there like panting idiots. Something along the lines of:

“Should we…?” Richie heaved through his words while pointing a thumb in the direction of which they had come. Should we go back to school? That’s what he meant to ask.

“No.” Eddie said. “Should we…?” He panted heavily, pointing to the other end of the road. Should we go home?

Richie nodded and planted both hands on his knees, curving his body so that he could bend his back in different angles. Man, running with a backpack is harder than it should be.  He straightened himself out again. “Yours or-”

“Mine.” Eddie answered.

It was a silent agreement that they were meant to spend the rest of the day together.

They walked together, there wasn’t one moment that Eddie worried about his lungs. Running felt great, freeing, perhaps. So, when they were approaching the street where his house stood, he did something un-Eddie like. He shoved Richie with his elbow, he might have used more strength than needed. He blamed the adrenaline still running through him. Funny, the adrenaline runs too.  With Richie’s suspicious attention on him, Eddie grinned, but didn’t bother to look in his direction. “I’ll race you to the front door.” And then proceeded to take off, the burning in his legs returning, but that wasn’t going to stop him.

He heard Richie complain behind him, but Eddie knew he had started running too by the sounds of his sneakers hitting the ground.

Eddie rounded the fence of the house next to his and crossed the grass that his mother called “front yard”.  His mother. Eddie’s throat tightened and he stopped abruptly. For what felt like the twentieth time today, Richie and Eddie collapsed against each other. Richie tried to stop, he did, but he was almost catching up to Eddie, and the grass was still wet, still muddy. His feet slipped against Eddie’s and he fell on his butt into the cold surface, something inside the backpack pressed into his ribs.

“Fuck, Eddie!” He groaned on, hands digging into the dirt. “What the hell was that for?”

But Eddie didn’t turn around, he just gaped at the front door and whispered. “My mom, Richie. I can’t be home before school ends.” With that, he faced the boy on the ground, his worried frown deepened at the sight. “Can’t you even stay on your feet for one minute? You’re all dirty!” His whispers were staged, just in case Sonia was in ear-range.

Frustrated, and helplessly mad (although he didn’t want to be) Richie laughed ironically, way too loud for Eddie’s liking. “Excuse me, will you? You stopped out of fucking nowhere, Eds!” He scrambled to his feet, already feeling his pants glued to his legs where the wetness installed itself.

“Lower your voice-”

“Your mom’s not home.” He shrugged while adjusting his clothes into place. Eddie stared with furrowed eyebrows.

“And how do you know that?”

“Her car’s missing.”

Gaping slightly, Eddie snapped his neck to stare at the spot where his mother parks the car, it wasn’t, in fact, there.

Richie passed through Eddie while flicking his forehead. “Dummie. Lend me your shower.” Eddie followed him with his eyes, noticing pieces of grass stuck to Richie’s hair, and his soaked clothes, the backpack too.

“Don’t you dare step a foot in my house!”

-

After the bathroom door closed, Eddie allowed himself to sit on his bed and capture every sound that made its way to him. Richie's barefoot steps on the tiles, the ruffling of clothes against skin, the squeaks that his faucet does every time someone turns it on, the water hitting the bottom of the tub. His mind goes back in time, years ago when both of them had enough innocence (yes, even Richie) to take showers together.

11-year olds would be playing outside, usually with Stan and Bill, and they'd get dirty. Well, Eddie couldn't, or his mother would be upset. She always sounded angry and sad after Eddie came home with stains and messy hair. Eddie didn't want to make her feel that way so, most times, he came home sweaty.

One time, Richie and him went over to his place and played on the streets until his parents allowed. Back when they cared.  Then they had stumbled inside in a fit of giggles, knees and hands dirty, clothes slightly smudged in greys and browns. Eddie didn't care about it.  Richie had asked his mother if Eddie could bath in his house and stay for dinner. Maggie had smiled at the boys and ush them upstairs.

Maybe she didn't realize that Richie would be joining the said shower, Eddie thinks so, years later.

But the boys didn't think too much at the time, they just struggled out of their clothes in chuckles and pushes and got under the water. If memory doesn't fail him, Richie had joked about 'Eddie's pickle', saying it was smaller, but that it was okay because Eddie was small all over and Richie liked him like that.

Remembering this now, while Richie was in next room showering, made Eddie's cheeks crimson and his heart stammer.

He recalls, among those years of innocence, that both of them had asked the same to Sonia one time. Eddie doesn't know if he ever saw his mom freak out like that ever before. At the moment, neither of them could grasp her reasons, they just stood there, mouths gaping like fishes and ears red from being scowled, while she threatened to call Richie's parents.  Now things were different. He supposed that if he went to join Richie right now, something ought to go wrong, even if he recognised a subtle wish to do just so. But then there’s an image on his head of all those solo times Eddie has in his shower, the exact same place where Richie is now, and he groans. Rubbing his face to shake away those images, he feels embarrassed. What is it about Richie that everything involving him leaves Eddie embarrassing himself?

To use his time better, Eddie tidied up the room and searched for the clothes Richie sometimes forgets. He ended up finding some in the back of his closet. He placed them neatly on top of his bed, the footprint was still there.

The kitchen sink was a mess of pilled up dishes from breakfast and his mother’s lunch, so he settled on taking care of that and arranging something for both of them to eat.  Mid way from getting two glasses of orange juice on the table, Richie burst through the kitchen entry, already dressed, with a towel on his hand. Eddie didn’t hear him coming down the stairs, so when Richie asked: “Hey, where’d you want me to leave this?” - he almost spilled one glass on the floor, but managed to salvage it.

Before Eddie could say anything at all, he heard a voice that wasn’t Richie’s.

“I knew it.”

 He faintly recognized his mother’s way of spatting out words in disapproval. Not even settling the glasses down, he turned to lock eyes with Richie, who was torn between glaring at Eddie with huge eyes, and looking at Sonia, who was out of Eddie’s view but certainly not out of his. The way Richie’s throat moved while he dry swallowed didn’t went unnoticed.

“Mrs. Kaspbrak!” He exclaimed, faking amusement. “Long time no see!”

Eddie’s heartbeat was everywhere, in his hands holding the cups for dear life, in his ears, in the back of his head and the sides of his neck.

Almost like a barrier between Eddie and his own mother, stood Richie. The kitchen entry occupied by his body, Sonia by the front door. Richie watched as the woman’s eyes studied his face, maybe his damp hair, then lowered down to the towel in both his hands. In a slow-motion-like movement, Richie watched Mrs. Kaspbrak’s expression turn into one of recognition.

“Did you just shower in my house?!”

Eddie’s breathing stopped for a second, still haven’t laid an eye on her.  He could see Richie’s fists grasp the towel harder and his smile twitch. Suddenly, he feared what may happen in the next seconds.

There was anger in his movements as Richie moved one hand to his own hip and cocked an eyebrow at the woman in front of him. “Ridiculous idea, ma’am!” He pressed down the R’s. “Eddie licked my hair nice and wet-”

She didn’t give him time to finish, horror in her face as she grabbed Richie by the ear, obliging the boy to bent down so as to not get any body part ripped out of him.  Eddie’s eyes widened, finally seeing his mom there to make things real. Richie dropped the towel and grabbed her wrist, hissing in pain and squeezing his eyes.

“Mom, cut it out!” They made eye contact, then, but she didn’t let go.

“We have a lot to discuss, Eddie.” Before he could talk again, Richie was barking out a laugh, a very sarcastic and angry one.

“Listen, lady, I’m trying my best to not lose my shit right now. So, would you kindly let go of my fucking ear?”

“Mom, let him go.” Even Eddie himself was surprised at the bravery in his tone. Mrs. Kaspbrak lifted her head to look at her son in disbelief, nonetheless, she let Richie’s ear alone but pushed him to enter the kitchen properly, following him inside. Richie stumbled with the push but managed to get a grip on the towel before making his way to Eddie’s side.

“So, dryer?” He lifted an eyebrow while pointing, with the soft fabric, to the machine under the kitchen counter.

“Not right now, Richie.”  Richie’s intentions were certainly not comical, Eddie knew it was his coping mechanism but he couldn’t help and turn him down. He stared at his mom again, who was standing in front of him with an unreadable expression. “What do we have to talk about?”

He tried so hard to keep it together, hell, he did. But as soon as a paper bag was pushed to his hands, Eddie knew it was only a matter of seconds for him to lose it. Carefully, and finally, placing the full glasses on the table, Eddie grabbed the bag shakily. He peered inside.

A wave of shock ran his spine when he saw Richie’s lighter inside, along with a pharmaceutic box he too well recognised.

“Mom?” he whimpered. There were tears fogging up his vision. “Care to explain?” Behind him, he could hear Richie walking in circles and trying not to peer over and see for himself.

“Explain it, Eddie?” Aggressively, she tore the paper bag from her son’s hands and turned it upside down, letting its contents fall on the kitchen table. Richie was there in a minute. My lighter. He thought. And then he remembered the sound that took them both by surprise last night.

“You went looking through Eddie’s bedroom?” He spat those words to her, on the corner of his eye, he saw Eddie’s shoulders slump. Neither of them answered him, so he scoffed and started pacing again, not even noticing the other half of the bag’s contents.

Eddie stared at the box until he couldn’t restrain himself from blinking any longer. When he opened his eyes again, it was still there.

“If you give me reasons, Eddie, I will do what I have to. Think I haven’t noticed you coughing around and trying to cover it up? And then what do I find, Eddie?” He didn’t answer, eyes on the ground. “If you think it’s funny to go smoking behind my back, I hope you find this funny too-

“Smoking? Are you serious?” He finally looked up at her in disbelief, voice strained and cheeks stained. “Do you think I’d go around smoking?!”

“I don’t care, Eddie!” Her voice echoed. Eddie sniffled, feeling helpless and ashamed that Richie had to be here while this argument happened. “You’re going to carry your inhaler around again-”

Richie’s mouth fell opened at those words, watching Eddie shake his head frantically from side to side. He was choking up on his tears while trying to speak. “N-no! D-don’t make me!”

But she answered him by shoving the white and blue carton box in his chest, and Eddie took it sheepishly. That’s when Richie snapped.

“Mrs. Kaspbrak,” He approached her carefully. “I don’t think this is reasonable, Eddie doesn’t need it and besides, the lighter is mine not his-”

“Great, then he’ll stop being around you, too. You can start by leaving.”  Then she made her way to the fridge, like nothing had happened, and started taking out various things needed to prepare dinner.  Eddie stood there, listening as Richie’s politeness left his body in a second and started hitting her with words and curses. He stood there, getting angrier and angrier every time his mother had the audacity to attack Richie back, like she was some kind of superior being who had the right to do so.  She’s not, Eddie realises.

She doesn’t have the right to be doing this.

“You’re a worthless prick, woman. I bet you were waiting for your chance to get Eddie under your thumb again!”

“Congrats, boy!” She tossed the tub of butter she took out of the fridge onto the counter. “You’ve got me all figured, a shame you can’t seem to understand your own mother as well.”

With all the strength he could find, although Eddie doesn’t know where it came from, maybe from the adrenaline, he screamed for them to stop while tossing the box onto the wall in front of him. There was a snapping sound once it fell to the floor, and since Eddie wasn’t so sure if it broke, he walked over and stepped on it forcefully while his throat squeezed out grunts of frustration.

Sonia spoke carefully to him, nonetheless threateningly. “Edward-

“I am not asthmatic, and I do not smoke.” He wasn’t lying, but there was still a pang of guilt living in his chest. He sniffled once more, and locked eyes with Richie, who was looking at him like he’d found his hero. “And I won’t certainly stop seeing Richie.”

On his way out of the kitchen, Richie bumped shoulders with Sonia, a childish act, yeah, but damn it if he didn’t want to push her more.  For the next hour, Eddie expected his mom to burst through his bedroom door and make Richie leave, but strangely, she didn’t even make her presence noticeable while Eddie tried to stop crying and Richie apologized for what felt like the millionth time.

“It’s okay.” Eddie told him. “I think she needed a second reminder, you know?”

Richie knew, but that didn’t stop him from feeling guilty.

By dinner time, Richie had to leave and Eddie went downstairs with him to carry him to the door. Once it was closed, his mother walked closer to him.

“Dinner is ready.”

And when Eddie followed her to the kitchen, ice cold quietness, he took a glance at the spot where his inhaler stood moments ago, it wasn’t laying there anymore. The silence in which they ate felt different this time, as if, somehow, Eddie finally let his mother know who he truly was.

 He hoped that she could take it better this time.

rooftop taglist:   @richietoaster   @rainydayriots   @reddieloves    @thetrashmouthclub   @lemonboi03 @noodleboyshane    @pillsandglasses   @studpuffin      @dandelion-stan     @reddiesetrichie     @squishynonbinarytwink      @itschunky      @burymestanding     @duderrific    @its-rye @salty-kaspbrak  @youtubequeens   @reddieseggrolls   @addimagination   @pastelstozier @sleepysirenprincess @constantreaderfool   @mrs-vh @eds-trashmouth

perma taglist:  @constantreaderfool   @mrs-vh  @eds-trashmouth @girasol-eddie

#reddie #fanfic #writing #rooftop #ao3 #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #stanley kubrick #bill denbrough #henry bowers #pennywise happened but certainly dead #ao3 isn't working #original

[smutty-fics]

Girl I’m Sorry I Was Blind...

Steve X Reader X Bucky

This is part two. Sorry for the wait. Anonther submission for @caplansteverogers Angst Challenge. This may involve language, and possible smut. Thank you all for your support. 

You are currently sitting on Bucky’s lap eating popcorn and watching Supernatural. His hard chest pressing against your backside. He kisses your temple before burying his face into the crook of your neck. He places light kisses and you moan softly while weaving your fingers through his brown locks. He mumbles something against your neck. 

“Huh?” He lifts his head, turns you around so you’re facing him and gazed into your (e/c) eyes lovingly. He lifts his hands - both metal and flesh - to cup your face. You lean into his touch wanting to cherish it forever.

“You know I love you, right? I’ve been in love ever since my eyes landed on you. You had this rope that pulled me right into your trap. After Hydra, I was afraid that I’d never find love because of the monster they made me into. But then you came along.” Tears pool in his beautiful blue eyes. “You don’t deserve me. You deserve better but I can’t  get over how I need you.” He kisses your cheeks, nose, forehead and each of your eyelids. 

“Oh Buck, I love you too. I never realized it until now. I feel guilty and selfish since I kept denying it over and over.” You smile sweetly despite the tears streaming down your cheeks from his words. He leans in closer as do you. Your lips connect lightly before the kiss turns more passionate. Your eyes close as you get lost in the kiss. His tongue traces your bottom lip for entrance but you deny him access. Groaning, he bites and tugs the sameness lip but it only erects moans from you. You smirk into the kiss before yanking his head back. He makes a low growl but stops when you resume kissing. You place your hands in his chest Andy his hands go to your waist. 

You both hear someone clear their throat and you scrambled off his lap. You turn and see Tony with a smirk on his face and his arms crossed. “Looks like you two are getting busy.” At his last words, he wiggles his rows suggestively. You roll your eyes before laying your head on Bucky’s shoulders. “I thought you had a thing for Mr. Righteous.” Bucky’s grip tightens at the mention of Steve’s name. You intertwined your hand with his as a comfort. 

“Tony, what do you want?” You sigh as the man pulls out a manila folder with a paper clip on the corner.

“Fury’s got a mission for you. Said you need a partner so he assigned one.” You hesitantly grab it. Opening it curiously, you see a  two photo, a letter and information on the two pictures. “Do you know who my partner is?” Stark shakes his head. 

“He just said it was classified so I don’t know a thing besides that.” He pointedly looks at the folder, eyes switching between the two of you. Tony walks toward the lab, his footsteps clicking from his heeled shoes. 

Throwing on a black tank top, you slip on your S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform and your shoes. It’s not much - black pants, a hoodie, fingerless leather gloves and utility belt. You slip a gun in the holster on your belt, another in a hidden pocket in your hoodie, and a knife in your boot. You grab a wireless Bluetooth device for your ear and head out your room. Your footsteps silent due to your soundless shoes made from Shuri. The elevator ride was silent except for the annoying music. Why do they play this kind of music in elevators? 

Through the clear walls of the planning room, you see Steve seated with Fury in a deep conversation. You contemplate on whether you should go in or wait. After a couple long seconds, you decide to barge in. Fury’s eyes meet your but Steve keep his eyes trained on the table. 

“Have a seat Agent L/N.” You sit opposite of Steve which is next to the head of the table. “Have you read the file?” 

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I sent Tony to tell you that you’re assigned a partner. Everyone else was occupied so Rogers here will help you on your mission.”

““But sir-” He cuts you off before you can finish.

“Despite whatever drama, I expect you to fuckin’ complete this damn assignment. I don’t care if you are torn between two men. We need strong agents. If you can put do it, then get your ass out. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s what I like to hear. You two are dismissed. The base is on location 20, the coordinates are plugged into the  quinjet.” You get up and the chair scrapes against the flooring. As you leave you hear him call you. “Don’t die.”

*time skip brought to you by everyone hiding Easter eggs and Nat stealing everyone's*

The whir of the quinjet is the only sound. You and Steve are sitting side to side piloting the plane. No words are exchanged between the two of you. It just seems too awkward so you decide to not say a thing unless necessary. The coordinates lead to an underground lab. The main goal is to retrieve the chip. The chip contains nuclear codes, data base from past mission, most wanted and more.

The landing is soft and easy. You carefully walk to a long forgotten backdoor before unscrewing the hinges. It falls with a loud thus but you continue your journey. Dark halls with no light send chills to your spine. As you make your way through the dark, you bump into whatseems like metallic railings. You soon realize they're stairs. Having no choice, you begin to descend upwards. The sun illuminates in a small room. You're guessing it's for interrogation.

Across the room is a lab. You notice there's no guards making it seem suspicious but you lead onwards. The chip glimmers in the light and you stealthily detache it from it's hold. You clip it safely into a compartment in your belt. As you retreat, several gunshots ring out.

There's pain in your right leg and on your left shoulder. Another in your abdomen. You feel your yourself falling as you come your eyes trying to lessen the pain.

Steve stares at the clock. You've been gone for too long. It's time he's gone in whether he's ready or not. Grabbing his shield, he takes off. He tries to contact your device but all he receives is static making him worry. The hall is errie and quiet. Making his way through the dark, he trips over a metal grate? No, it's stairs. He climbs them and sees a room with some light, a chair and a desk. Moving onward, he sees the pad and a figure on the floor. A pool of crismon red surrounds the person. Squinting, he comes to realization that it's you!

He runs and kneels down to your level. Taking your head into his lap he cradles you. He notices five bullet wounds on your leg, shoulder and abdomen. Blood leaks onto your iniform despite the dark color. You open your eyes and see Steve. You smile sadly knowing you're not going to make it. You failed your mission.

"Come on, Y/N. We can make it. I'll get you back to the tower and Tony could-"

"I can't go, Steve. Just leave without me. Take the chip." You reach into your pocket and pull out the small, grey device. "Go on, Mr. America."

He sighs through his nose. Pressing the earpiece he calls the team letting them know about the situation and that he needs backup. When he's done, he stares down at you memorizing your facial features. How you look when you smile. How you always cheered the team up when they're down.

"I already lost one of my best girls. I'm not loosing another." You don't say anything for a while. You just stare at the ceiling before shaking your head causing him to look at you.

"Steve, if you're not going to leave, can you sing to me? Just one song." He nods at you request.

"Maybe I didn't love you

Quite as often as I could have

Maybe I didn't treat you

Quite as good as I should have

If I made you feel second best

Girl I'm sorry I was blind....

You were always on my mind

You were always on my mind.

Maybe I didn't hold you

All those lonely, lonely times

And I guess I never told you

I'm so happy that you're mine

Little things I should have sasi and done

I just never took the time

But you were always on my mind

You were always on my mind"

You close your eyes  once again. Your breathing soft and steady. “Steve, you know I still love you. After all this time.” Tears silently slide down his face and onto your intertwined hands. Sobs escape his lips but he tries to be strong. For you. For him.

“Don’t say that. You’re gonna make it. Come on, you have to. Who is going to help me with all the movies I gotta catch up on? What about helping me with my phone? Who is going to make fun of my suit? I need you Y/N. Don’t leave me.”

No response. 

More tears find they’re way. Screams rip through his throat. Why did such a thing happen to you? Why? Why? He lays his head on your chest trying to find a heartbeat but it’s no use. All he wanted was to love again. ““Goodbye, Y/N”

I hope you guys liked it because I cried making this. I’m sorry for the long wait. Thank you for your support and I love each and everyone of you. 

@caplansteverogers

@buckysforeverprincess

@iavengesuperwholock

@tomhiddleston20

#marvel #mcu #avengers #supermarvelobsessed #xreader #captain america #steve rogers #chris evans #bucky barnes #winter solider x reader #sebastian stan #captain america x reader #angst #love

[ediblenapkin-moved]

That's the Thing About Dreams- Chapter 5

A/N: CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 2-

So hey! I’m back, and it’s time for cHAPTER MOTHERFIPPITY 2-

Anyways. This is gonna be either fun, or a complete and utter pain in the neck to write (my bet’s on the latter…). Who knows, though? (Future me. that’s who. future me what’s your status) (future iteration 1- i am not doing well. i am having small difficulties. oh my i did not spell that right what is wrong with me what time is it) (translation: it is 10:26 PM, i am covered in mosquito bites and this story is a pain.) (future iteration 2- i took a break. it’s a whole new day… and I’m ending the chapter. why? because me, that’s why. chapter 2’s gonna be in at least 3 separate pieces… and chapter 3???? hahahaha yeah that’s gonna be in at least 3 too. at least. i’m not even gonna try for ch4. not yet.)

Edit: I thought this chapter was gone today. So far, I’ve been writing all these little shits offline, google docs, you know? Well, today I got online- and when it went to sync my offline changes… three of eight documents I’d created/edited offline had vanished. Ofc, this scared me to no end- these things weren’t fun to figure out, in terms of all the little pieces and bits- and I was flipping out. I thought I was going to have to rewrite at least three different stories.

Thankfully, I waited a little bit and they reappeared. Which is good. But that was terrifying…

But now I'm on mobile. I just gotta mess with the formatting every damn time I go to post... I don't know if it's better or worse this way.

Enjoy.

lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

The first thing Joey was aware of was that his head was pounding.

“What hit me…?” He groaned, slowly pushing himself up. Once he was standing, he put a hand to his head. The throbbing was going away, but not fast enough.

He shut his eyes, waiting for it to go away. It didn’t, but it became manageable.

He finally reopened his eyes, looking around the small room- and quickly stepping out of the pentagram. It hurt to look at for some reason- the pulse in his head got worse even thinking about it.

He found himself picking up the axe, which, oddly enough, was now leaning against one of the coffins… and he knew he hadn’t left it there as he’d passed out. Which meant someone had been here and they moved his axe… but was that all they did?

Joey sighed. It wasn’t helping anyone to ask all these questions that- at the moment at least- had no answers. With that in mind, he looked towards the closed door in front of him.

Guess I’ve got no choice now… I’ve got to keep moving. Keep moving forward…

He chopped the boards off the next door and started walking.

Another stairwell. This one proudly displayed a little sign that read UTILITY SHAFT 9. As he walked down, a board collapsed and fell from the ceiling- nearly causing Joey to slip and fall down the stairs. Thankfully, he caught himself.

As soon as he reached the bottom step, he looked up- and another line greeted him- HE WILL SET US FREE- scrawled next to a smaller version of the cutouts that were everywhere. The little shelf was filled with candles, and cans of bacon soup, some closed, some open and poured in bowls. A banjo was leaning next to the shelf, slightly dusty.

He walked further in, noting that most of the shelves were in a similar state to the first- except one had another cassette tape. He clicked play.

“He appears from the shadows to rain his sweet blessings upon me. The figure of ink that shines in the darkness. I see you, my savior. I pray that you hear me. Those old songs, I still sing them. For I know you are coming to save me. And I will be swept into your final loving embrace. But, love requires sacrifice. Can I get an amen?”

The tape clicked off, and Joey frowned. He made to step back-

“I said, can I get an amen?”

He spun around- and stopped.

Sammy Lawrence- his voice- it had just been here, right behind him. Joey was sure of it- he was here. Somewhere.

After a minute of silence, Joey took a deep breath and kept going. He’d never in his life heard the songwriter like that- and it was genuinely creepy. It was wrong, it was too calm, it was too… off.

By nature, he tended to be loud, impatient, and was easily distracted at times. He was also an amazing composer- the studio’s only composer. With him around, there was no need for another. Sammy worked best alone, but made an exception for the lyricist- who, at first, he’d shown no mercy to. But eventually something had happened- and they were able to be in the same room and actually talk to each other.

Joey reached the next hallway- and stopped. It was flooded with ink. Knee high at least, and it looked positively repulsive. After taking a moment to sigh- his shoes and socks had finally been dry when he’d woken up- he stepped in and began wading to the other side.

And then, halfway down the hall, he heard muttering. Whispering- and then a dark figure clad in white overalls appeared, walking past the doorway- carrying a Bendy cutout under its arm.

The voice, while quiet- was unmistakable.

“Lawrence? Lawrence! What the hell-” He pulled himself through the rest of the hall as fast as he could, nearly jumping out of the ink to turn the corner the songwriter had vanished around-

Only to see a dead end… and the Bendy cutout sitting in front of a pentagram scratched on the wall.

Joey looked around, noting the trail of ink- but where the hell had he gone?

The voice in his head whispered, It’s got something to do with this ink. It’s everywhere, and that’s unnatural… ‘Who needs that much ink anyways?’ Something is really off with all this.

It’s not right…

He turned around, noticing a closed metal gate- much like the ones that had penned him in upstairs- and a panel next to it, featuring three blinking lights.

Seems like the gate needed power.

He found himself searching for the three different switches- two of them were back down the flooded hall, and after coming back through it for the third time he sat down, took off his shoes, then wrung out his socks. It was a pointless move- there was ink everywhere, and it was more than likely he was gonna be covered in it at some point, and more than just knee high or waist high- probably neck high or above head.

He slipped his slightly less soaked socks back on, then his shoes. He stood and walked over to the switchboard- all three lights were on. He threw the switch.

With a rumble and a lot of groaning, the metal gate slowly lifted- and just as it clicked into place, a low moan sounded- followed by the sound of a light flicking on.

Joey walked closer to the boarded up doorway- seriously, what was up with all these boarded up areas- and listened, but there was nothing else. Quickly, he hacked his way through the wood, and walked in.

The music department kind of looked like shit at the moment.

Ink puddles scattered everywhere, only a few candles- god it was dark- and most of the lights were off. Looking around, Joey sighed before noticing the tape next to the sign- in the dark, it was hard to see, but this tape was labelled- Lawrence. He turned it on.

“So first this Ink Machine is installed over our heads. Then it begins to leak. Three times last month we couldn’t even get out of our department because the ink kept flooding the stairwell. The solution? An ink pump to drain it periodically. Now I have this ugly pump switch right in my office. People in and out all day. Just what I needed. More distractions. These stupid cartoon songs don’t write themselves, you know.”

Now that sounded like Sammy…. the stairwell, right. Turning around, Joey walked to the stairs- and what do you know? It was flooded. The main power switch sat on the wall to the right, though- thankfully. He threw the switch, hearing the clicking of lights turning on- then wincing as the room suddenly filled with harsh light.

And then, the sound of ink dripping filled the room.

He turned, and walked back into the main room-

And a glob of ink dropped from the ceiling, forming into a humanoid shape.

Almost instantly, it swiped at Joey, who raised the axe and swung back.

Only one of them made their mark.

The body- he assumed- melted, and returned to a regular puddle of ink.

And then there were more.

Before he got time to think, he was fighting the inky creatures as best he could- he wasn’t a perfect aim with the axe- but eventually the last one took a hit and vanished, leaving Joey, panting, alone in the room as music began to play- and as a metal gate began to open.

And, finally, he got a chance to think, and a chill ran down his back.

Those things… weren’t right.

lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

A/N: jesus fuckin shit this is gonna be hard

i just rewatched someone play through it… fuck. I THOUGHT I WAS DONE SHORTCUTTING CRAP-

Nope. Apparently not. Sorry, suckers, but we’re shortcutting the hell out of this chapter… and Chapter 3. Saying it now so you don’t wonder, because no way in hell am I writing out that entire fucking annoying ass errand list. The Angel can go suck a lemon.

(Am I reading too many fics these days…? I’m actually not swearing as much as I usually do. wow. thanks for the influence, fics.)

I can already tell this fic, if it gets finished porplery, (porperly????? pfft), will be about 8 chapters minimum. so yeah. probably around 12 or 14…. excluding bullshit…

Is it crazy that I’m already looking forward to transcribing Chapter 3? Yes? No? Maybe, so? (hahahahhahahahahahahahahahahaahahah sorry)

next up: cutouts. why.

#that's the thing about dreams chapter #that's the thing about dreams #batim #fanfiction #animator reversal au #my writing #writing tag